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Just then it seemed to be going up and spreading out. Stevey Todd looked over the side, and gave a grunt, and he says, "Something's a-suckin' the water out of the harbour." Then I felt the Helen Mar tugging at her anchor, and the water was going by her like a mill race, and Cuco was gone, and on shore people were running away from the wharves and the river toward the upper town.
I was feeling injured too, thinking Sadler was likely to be having more happiness than he deserved, maybe setting up a centre of insurrection in Portate, and leaving me out of it. Cuco come out in his boat, putting it under the ship's side, and crying up to us to buy his mangoes.
Stevey Todd came out of the galley to tell him his mangoes were no good, so as to get up an argument, and Cuco laughed. "Si, senor," he says, "look! Ver' good." Then he nodded towards the shore: "La Sarasara! Oh, la Sarasara!" laughing and holding up his mangoes. The smoke-cap over the Sarasara was blacker than usual and uncommon big it looked to me.
Of the permanent tenants in the first courtyard, those who were intimate with Senor Ignacio included: a proof-corrector, nick-named El Corretor; a certain Rebolledo, both barber and inventor, and four blind men, who were known by the sobriquets El Calabazas, El Sapistas, El Erigido and El Cuco and dwelt in harmony with their respective wives playing the latest tangos, tientos and zarzuela ditties on the streets.
Beyond were six peaks of the Andes, and four of them were white, and two blue-black in the distance, with little white caps of smoke over them. The biggest of the black ones was named "Sarasara," which was a nasty volcano, so a little old boatman told us. "Si, senor! Oh, la Sarasara!" His name was Cuco, and he sold us bananas and mangoes, and was drowned afterwards. The Sarasara was a gay bird.
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