百年孤独(英文版)-第39部分

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　　　“We’ll　tell　them　that　we　found　him　floating　in　the　basket；？she　said　smiling。
　　　“No　one　will　believe　it；？the　nun　said。
　　　“If　they　believe　it　in　the　Bible；？Fernanda　replied；　“I　don’t　see　why　they　shouldn’t　believe　it　from　me。？
　　　The　nun　lunched　at　the　house　while　she　waited　for　the　train　back；　and　in　accordance　with　the　discretion　they　asked　of　her；　she　did　not　mention　the　child　again；　but　Fernanda　viewed　her　as　an　undesirable　witness　of　her　shame　and　lamented　the　fact　that　they　had　abandoned　the　medieval　custom　of　hanging　a　messenger　who　bore　bad　news。　It　was　then　that　she　decided　to　drown　the　child　in　the　cistern　as　soon　as　the　nun　left；　but　her　heart　was　not　strong　enough　and　she　preferred　to　wait　patiently　until　the　infinite　goodness　of　God　would　free　her　from　the　annoyance。
　　　The　new　Aureliano　was　a　year　old　when　the　tension　of　the　people　broke　with　no　forewarning。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　and　other　union　leaders　who　had　remained　underground　until　then　suddenly　appeared　one　weekend　and　anized　demonstrations　in　towns　throughout　the　banana　region。　The　police　merely　maintained　public　order。　But　on　Monday　night　the　leaders　were　taken　from　their　homes　and　sent　to　jail　in　the　capital　of　the　province　with　twopound　irons　on　their　legs。　Taken　among　them　were　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　and　Lorenzo　Gavilán；　a　colonel　in　the　Mexican　revolution；　exiled　in　Macondo；　who　said　that　he　had　been　witness　to　the　heroism　of　his　rade　Artemio　Cruz。　They　were　set　free；　however；　within　three　months　because　of　the　fact　that　the　government　and　the　banana　pany　could　not　reach　an　agreement　as　to　who　should　feed　them　in　jail。　The　protests　of　the　workers　this　time　were　based　on　the　lack　of　sanitary　facilities　in　their　living　quarters；　the　nonexistence　of　medical　services；　and　terrible　working　conditions。　They　stated；　furthermore；　that　they　were　not　being　paid　in　real　money　but　in　scrip；　which　was　good　only　to　buy　Virginia　ham　in　the　pany　missaries。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　put　in　jail　because　he　revealed　that　the　scrip　system　was　a　way　for　the　pany　to　finance　its　fruit　ships；　which　without　the　missary　merchandise　would　have　to　return　empty　from　New　Orleans　to　the　banana　ports。　The　other　plaints　were　mon　knowledge。　The　pany　physicians　did　not　examine　the　sick　but　had　them　line　up　behind　one　another　in　the　dispensaries　and　a　nurse　would　put　a　pill　the　color　of　copper　sulfate　on　their　tongues；　whether　they　had　malaria；　gonorrhea；　or　constipation。　It　was　a　cure　that　was　so　mon　that　children　would　stand　in　line　several　times　and　instead　of　swallowing　the　pills　would　take　them　home　to　use　as　bingo　markers。　The　pany　workers　were　crowded　together　in　miserable　barracks。　The　engineers；　instead　of　putting　in　toilets；　had　a　portable　latrine　for　every　fifty　people　brought　to　the　camps　at　Christmas　time　and　they　held　public　demonstrations　of　how　to　use　them　so　that　they　would　last　longer。　The　decrepit　lawyers　dressed　in　black　who　during　other　times　had　besieged　Colonel　Aureliano　Buendía　and　who　now　were　controlled　by　the　banana　pany　dismissed　those　demands　with　decisions　that　seemed　like　acts　of　magic。　When　the　workers　drew　up　a　list　of　unanimous　petitions；　a　long　time　passed　before　they　were　able　to　notify　the　banana　pany　officially。　As　soon　as　he　found　out　about　the　agreement　Mr。　Brown　hitched　his　luxurious　glassedin　coach　to　the　train　and　disappeared　from　Macondo　along　with　the　more　prominent　representatives　of　his　pany。　Nonetheless　some　workers　found　one　of　them　the　following　Saturday　in　a　brothel　and　they　made　him　sign　a　copy　of　the　sheet　with　the　demands　while　he　was　naked　with　the　women　who　had　helped　to　entrap　him。　The　mournful　lawyers　showed　in　court　that　that　man　had　nothing　to　do　with　the　pany　and　in　order　that　no　one　doubt　their　arguments　they　had　him　jailed　as　an　impostor。　Later　on；　Mr。　Brown　was　surprised　traveling　incognito；　in　a　thirdclass　coach　and　they　made　him　sign　another　copy　of　the　demands。　On　the　following　day　he　appeared　before　the　judges　with　his　hair　dyed　black　and　speaking　flawless　Spanish。　The　lawyers　showed　that　the　man　was　not　Mr。　Jack　Brown；　the　superintendent　of　the　banana　pany；　born　in　Prattville　Alabama；　but　a　harmless　vendor　of　medicinal　plants；　born　in　Macondo　and　baptized　there　with　the　name　of　Dagoberto　Fonseca。　A　while　later；　faced　with　a　new　attempt　by　the　workers　the　lawyers　publicly　exhibited　Mr。　Brown’s　death　certificate；　attested　to　by　consuls　and　foreign　ministers　which　bore　witness　that　on　June　ninth　last　he　had　been　run　over　by　a　fire　engine　in　Chicago。　Tired　of　that　hermeneutical　delirium；　the　workers　turned　away　from　the　authorities　in　Macondo　and　brought　their　plaints　up　to　the　higher　courts。　It　was　there　that　the　sleightofhand　lawyers　proved　that　the　demands　lacked　all　validity　for　the　simple　reason　that　the　banana　pany　did　not　have；　never　had　had；　and　never　would　have　any　workers　in　its　service　because　they　were　all　hired　on　a　temporary　and　occasional　basis。　So　that　the　fable　of　the　Virginia　ham　was　nonsense；　the　same　as　that　of　the　miraculous　pills　and　the　Yuletide　toilets；　and　by　a　decision　of　the　court　it　was　established　and　set　down　in　solemn　decrees　that　the　workers　did　not　exist。
　　　The　great　strike　broke　out。　Cultivation　stopped　halfway；　the　fruit　rotted　on　the　trees　and　the　hundredtwentycar　trains　remained　on　the　sidings。　The　idle　workers　overflowed　the　towns。　The　Street　of　the　Turks　echoed　with　a　Saturday　that　lasted　for　several　days　and　in　the　poolroom　at　the　Hotel　Jacob　they　had　to　arrange　twentyfourhour　shifts。　That　was　where　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　on　the　day　it　was　announced　that　the　army　had　been　assigned　to　reestablish　public　order。　Although　he　was　not　a　man　given　to　omens；　the　news　was　like　an　announcement　of　death　that　he　had　been　waiting　for　ever　since　that　distant　morning　when　Colonel　Gerineldo　Márquez　had　let　him　see　an　execution。　The　bad　omen　did　not　change　his　solemnity；　however。　He　took　the　shot　he　had　planned　and　it　was　good。　A　short　time　later　the　drumbeats；　the　shrill　of　the　bugle；　the　shouting　and　running　of　the　people　told　him　that　not　only　had　the　game　of　pool　e　to　an　end；　but　also　the　silent　and　solitary　game　that　he　had　been　playing　with　himself　ever　since　that　dawn　execution。　Then　he　went　out　into　the　street　and　saw　them。　There　were　three　regiments；　whose　march　in　time　to　a　galley　drum　made　the　earth　tremble。　Their　snorting　of　a　manyheaded　dragon　filled　the　glow　of　noon　with　a　pestilential　vapor。　They　were　short；　stocky；　and　brutelike。　They　perspired　with　the　sweat　of　a　horse　and　had　a　smell　of　suntanned　hide　and　the　taciturn　and　impenetrable　perseverance　of　men　from　the　uplands。　Although　it　took　them　over　an　hour　to　pass　by；　one　might　have　thought　that　they　were　only　a　few　squads　marching　in　a　circle；　because　they　were　all　identical；　sons　of　the　same　bitch；　and　with　the　same　stolidity　they　all　bore　the　weight　of　their　packs　and　canteens；　the　shame　of　their　rifles　with　fixed　bayonets；　and　the　chancre　of　blind　obedience　and　a　sense　of　honor。　？rsula　heard　them　pass　from　her　bed　in　the　shadows　and　she　made　a　crow　with　her　fingers。　Santa　Sofía　de　la　Piedad　existed　for　an　instant；　leaning　over　the　embroidered　tablecloth　that　she　had　just　ironed；　and　she　thought　of　her　son；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　who　without　changing　expression　watched　the　last　soldiers　pass　by　the　door　of　the　Hotel　Jacob。
　　　Martial　law　enabled　the　army　to　assume　the　functions　of　arbitrator　in　the　controversy；　but　no　effort　at　conciliation　was　made。　As　soon　as　they　appeared　in　Macondo；　the　soldiers　put　aside　their　rifles　and　cut　and　loaded　the　bananas　and　started　the　trains　running。　The　workers；　who　had　been　content　to　wait　until　then；　went　into　the　woods　with　no　other　weapons　but　their　working　machetes　and　they　began　to　sabotage　the　sabotage。　They　burned　plantations　and　missaries；　tore　up　tracks　to　impede　the　passage　of　the　trains　that　began　to　open　their　path　with　machinegun　fire；　and　they　cut　telegraph　and　telephone　wires。　The　irrigation　ditches　were　stained　with　blood。　Mr。　Brown；　who　was　alive　in　the　electrified　chicken　coop；　was　taken　out　of　Macondo　with　his　family　and　those　of　his　fellow　countrymen　and　brought　to　a　safe　place　under　the　protection　of　the　army。　The　situation　was　threatening　to　lead　to　a　bloody　and　unequal　civil　war　when　the　authorities　called　upon　the　workers　to　gather　in　Macondo。　The　summons　announced　that　the　civil　and　military　leader　of　the　province　would　arrive　on　the　following　Friday　ready　to　intercede　in　the　conflict。
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　was　in　the　crowd　that　had　gathered　at　the　station　on　Friday　since　early　in　the　morning。　He　had　taken　part　in　a　meeting　of　union　leaders　and　had　been　missioned；　along　with　Colonel　Gavilán；　to　mingle　in　the　crowd　and　orient　it　according　to　how　things　went。　He　did　not　feel　well　and　a　salty　paste　was　beginning　to　collect　on　his　palate　when　he　noticed　that　the　army　had　set　up　machinegun　emplacements　around　the　small　square　and　that　the　wired　city　of　the　banana　pany　was　protected　by　artillery　pieces。　Around　twelve　o’clock；　waiting　for　a　train　that　was　not　arriving；　more　than　three　thousand　people；　workers；　women；　and　children；　had　spilled　out　of　the　open　space　in　front　of　the　station　and　were　pressing　into　the　neighboring　streets；　which　the　army　had　closed　off　with　rows　of　machine　guns。　At　that　time　it　all　seemed　more　like　a　jubilant　fair　than　a　waiting　crowd。　They　had　brought　over　the　fritter　and　drink　stands　from　the　Street　of　the　Turks　and　the　people　were　in　good　spirits　as　they　bore　the　tedium　of　waiting　and　the　scorching　sun。　A　short　time　before　three　o’clock　the　rumor　spread　that　the　official　train　would　not　arrive　until　the　following　day。　The　crowd　let　out　a　sigh　of　disappointment。　An　army　lieutenant　then　climbed　up　onto　the　roof　of　the　station　where　there　were　four　machinegun　emplacements　aiming　at　the　crowd　and　called　for　silence。　Next　to　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　there　was　a　barefooted　woman；　very　fat；　with　two　children　between　the　ages　of　four　and　seven。　She　was　carrying　the　smaller　one　and　she　asked　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　without　knowing　him；　if　he　would　lift　up　the　other　one　so　that　he　could　hear　better。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　put　the　child　on　his　shoulders。　Many　years　later　that　child　would　still　tell；　to　the　disbelief　of　all；　that　he　had　seen　the　lieutenant　reading　Decree　No。　4　of　the　civil　and　military　leader　of　the　province　through　an　old　phonograph　horn。　It　had　been　signed　by　General　Carlos　Cortes　Vargas　and　his　secretary；　Major　Enrique　García　Isaza；　and　in　three　articles　of　eighty　words　he　declared　the　strikers　to　be　a　“bunch　of　hoodlums？and　he　authorized　the　army　to　shoot　to　kill。
　　　After　the　decree　was　read；　in　the　midst　of　a　deafening　hoot　of　protest；　a　captain　took　the　place　of　the　lieutenant　on　the　roof　of　the　station　and　with　the　horn　he　signaled　that　he　wanted　to　speak。　The　crowd　was　quiet　again。
　　　“Ladies　and　gentlemen；？the　captain　said　in　a　low　voice　that　was　slow　and　a　little　tired。　“you　have　five　minutes　to　withdraw。？
　　　The　redoubled　hooting　and　shouting　drowned　out　the　bugle　call　that　announced　the　start　of　the　count。　No　one　moved。
　　　Five　minutes　have　passed；？the　captain　said　in　the　same　tone。　“One　more　minute　and　we’ll　open　fire。？
　　　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo；　sweating　ice；　lowered　the　child　and　gave　him　to　the　woman。　“Those　bastards　might　just　shoot；？she　murmured。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　did　not　have　time　to　speak　because　at　that　instant　he　recognized　the　hoarse　voice　of　Colonel　Gavilán　echoing　the　words　of　the　woman　with　a　shout。　Intoxicated　by　the　tension；　by　the　miraculous　depth　of　the　silence；　and　furthermore　convinced　that　nothing　could　move　that　crowd　held　tight　in　a　fascination　with　death；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　raised　himself　up　over　the　heads　in　front　of　him　and　for　the　first　time　in　his　life　he　raised　his　voice。
　　　“You　bastards！？he　shouted。　“Take　the　extra　minute　and　stick　it　up　your　ass！？
　　　After　his　shout　something　happened　that　did　not　bring　on　fright　but　a　kind　of　hallucination。　The　captain　gave　the　order　to　fire　and　fourteen　machine　guns　answered　at　once。　But　it　all　seemed　like　a　farce。　It　was　as　if　the　machine　guns　had　been　loaded　with　caps；　because　their　panting　rattle　could　be　heard　and　their　incandescent　spitting　could　be　seen；　but　not　the　slightest　reaction　was　perceived；　not　a　cry；　not　even　a　sigh　among　the　pact　crowd　that　seemed　petrified　by　an　instantaneous　invulnerability。　Suddenly；　on　one　sideof　the　station；　a　cry　of　death　tore　open　the　enchantment：　“Aaaagh；　Mother。？A　seismic　voice；　a　volcanic　breath。　the　roar　of　a　cataclysm　broke　out　in　the　center　of　the　crowd　with　a　great　potential　of　expansion。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　barely　had　time　to　pick　up　the　child　while　the　mother　with　the　other　one　was　swallowed　up　by　the　crowd　that　swirled　about　in　panic。
　　　Many　years　later　that　child　would　still　tell；　in　spite　of　people　thinking　that　he　was　a　crazy　old　man；　how　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　had　lifted　him　over　his　head　and　hauled　him；　almost　in　the　air；　as　if　floating　on　the　terror　of　the　crowd；　toward　a　nearby　street。　The　child’s　privileged　position　allowed　him　to　see　at　that　moment　that　the　wild　mass　was　starting　to　get　to　the　corner　and　the　row　of　machine　guns　opened　fire。　Several　voices　shouted　at　the　same　time：
　　　“Get　down！　Get　down！？
　　　The　people　in　front　had　already　done　so；　swept　down　by　the　wave　of　bullets。　The　survivors；　instead　of　getting　down；　tried　to　go　back　to　the　small　square；　and　the　panic　became　a　dragon’s　tail　as　one　pact　wave　ran　against　another　which　was　moving　in　the　opposite　direction；　toward　the　other　dragon’s　tail　In　the　street　across　the　way；　where　the　machine　guns　were　also　firing　without　cease。　They　were　Penned　in。　swirling　about　in　a　gigantic　whirlwind　that　little　by　little　was　being　reduced　to　its　epicenter　as　the　edges　were　systematically　being　cut　off　all　around　like　an　onion　being　peeled　by　the　insatiable　and　methodical　shears　of　the　machine　guns。　The　child　saw　a　woman　kneeling　with　her　arms　in　the　shape　of　a　cross　in　an　open　space；　mysteriously　free　of　the　stampede。　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　put　him　up　there　at　the　moment　he　fell　with　his　face　bathed　in　blood；　before　the　colossal　troop　wiped　out　the　empty　space；　the　kneeling　woman；　the　light　of　the　high；　droughtstricken　sky；　and　the　whorish　world　where　？rsula　Iguarán　had　sold　so　many　little　candy　animals。
　　　When　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　came　to　he　was　lying　face　up　in　the　darkness。　He　realized　that　he　was　riding　on　an　endless　and　silent　train　and　that　his　head　was　caked　with　dry　blood　and　that　all　his　bones　ached。　He　felt　an　intolerable　desire　to　sleep。　Prepared　to　sleep　for　many　hours；　safe　from　the　terror　and　the　horror；　he　made　himself　fortable　on　the　side　that　pained　him　less；　and　only　then　did　he　discover　that　he　was　lying　against　dead　people。　There　was　no　free　space　in　the　car　except　for　an　aisle　in　the　middle。　Several　hours　must　have　passed　since　the　massacre　because　the　corpses　had　the　same　temperature　as　a　plaster　in　autumn　and　the　same　consistency　of　petrified　foam　that　it　had；　and　those　who　had　put　them　in　the　car　had　had　time　to　pile　them　up　in　the　same　way　in　which　they　transported　bunches　of　bananas。　Trying　to　flee　from　the　nightmare；　Jos？Arcadio　Segundo　dragged　himself　from　one　car　to　an　other　in　the　direction　in　which　the　train　was　heading；　and　in　the　flashes　of　light　that　broke　through　the　wooden　slats　as　they　went　through　sleeping　towns　he　saw　th