Nostromo: A Tale of the Seaboard
been contrived by a conquistador farmer of the pearl fishery three hundred years ago, is perfectly silent. So is the plain between the town and the harbor; silent, but not so dark as the house, because the pickets of Italian workmen guarding the railway have lighted little fires all along the line. It was not so quiet around here yesterday. We had an awful riot a sudden outbreak of the populace, which was not suppressed till late to-day. Its object, no doubt, was loot, and that was defeated, as you must have learned already from the cablegram sent via San Francisco and New York last night, when the cables were still open. You have read already there that the energetic action of the Europeans of the railway has saved the town from destruction, and you may believe that. I wrote out the cable myself. We have no Reuter's Agency man here. I have also fired at the mob from the windows of the club, in company with some other young men of position. Our object was to keep the Calle da la Constitucion clear for the exodus of the ladies and children, who have taken refuge on board a couple of cargo-ships now in the harbor here. That was yesterday. You should also have learned from the cable that the missing President, Ribiera, who had disappeared after the battle of Sta. Marta, has turned up here in Sulaco by one of those strange coincidences that are almost incredible, riding on a lame mule into the very midst of the street-fighting. It appears that he had fled, in company of a muleteer called Bonifacio, across the mountains, from the threats of Montero, into the arms of an enraged mob.
"The capataz of cargadores, that Italian sailor of
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