Fo'castle Waltz

A middle-aged lady with a massive, waved coiffure piled high on her head, resplendent with earrings and many necklaces, brooches, watches, clusters of bracelets and rings, joined our party. A big pocketbook swung from her belt. She was dressed, along with all the metal and stones, in sweaters, skirts, and a black apron. I couldn't tell how many of each—definitely more than one, I'm sure. She seemed well bundled up. That place was cold and those girls looked sort of blue and goose-pimply.

The Madame, the general contractor who took a percentage on the girls' earnings—some of the crew later said it was about fifty per cent—carried on a bit of banter with Perry. It was evident she urged him to go cavort with one of her kimono-clad, slop-bottomed charmers. Perry giggled and no-no'd and resisted a couple of the hustlers. Joe was having the same difficulty. One or two of the older women made a vague dab at me, and then concerned themselves with trying to help promote the affairs of their colleagues who were prospecting on Perry and Joe.

It's strange how much these girls looked like people I'd known before. It seemed to me some looked like schoolteachers I remembered—not any of my own schoolteachers, just some I'd seen before. Others like women who'd worked in stores or some I'd seen along the streets, respectable women I didn't know.

Perry had evidently convinced the Madame and her gentle little brood that we were gentlemen of taste, leisure, and discrimination, that we were not to be pushed, that we intended to study the fine points and qualities of all the girls in the houses of Rio Santiago before we came to any decision. Incidently, he talked quietly to her for a moment and found there had been no change in the rates from the last time he had visited this port. It still was two pesos for a short time, but for ten you remained with the girl of your choice after she was through her regular business of the evening (which might range from twenty to thirty engagements) and you might have her to yourself after that from midnight when the house closed until dawn —she and you alone!

Perry found that all out from the Madame and passed it on to us later as inside dope. We rose, pulled ourselves together, rearranged our hats which had been knocked askew with the ardor of their persuasion, and after much waving, laughter, and hoarse-voiced (many of the girls had colds and sniffles) invitations to come back, we walked toward the door that opened to the street. A few girls who hadn't mixed with the general gaiety at our table were sitting there talking among themselves, coughing and smoking cigarettes.

One dark-haired, slender girl in a tattered, red silk kimono rose as we passed. She was rather pretty with a broad, white forehead and a thin pointed face. She smiled and then called to us. Quickly she tripped across the floor and stopped in front of me!

"O-o-o — ve la pequina barba" and with her cold fingers she gently stroked my chin. She had recognized that I had a beard, that I just didn't need a shave!

Right there I knew I'd found my girl. No matter how many fat blonde or red-headed sirens I saw in the tour Perry planned through all the houses of the town, I'd return to her—this sweet, gentle brunette. We had something in common. She was the first person (outside of myself) who ever knew, who ever granted recognition to my first and favorite beard.

Perry, Joe and I strutted proudly out into the night. There, we'd proved it. We had character, stamina, stuff. There we were with all those women willing and eager and we had the wherewithal and the right, and we had stood up and walked out. We'd stuck to our resolve, not to rush. We'd been choosy and taken our time.

"Now—y'see." Perry was joyous. "What'd I tell ya? See, all dose women and all dose houses are just like that—oh boy."

"You betcha," said Joe. "Where we go now?"

"We-l-l-l, lessee—le's try dis one. But remember we're not gonna be dopes. Remember take it easy—take your time—"

A thought struck me and I tugged at Perry's arm just as he set his face with the proper expression of indifference and reached for the knob of that door.

"Look, Perry. Wait a minute—there's something screwy around here. How come there ain't any more guys around— you know, the gang from the packing houses, the steel works, and even our own crew. Where's everybody?"

There was no one along the streets, no men in that big house we had just left, no sound of men around anywhere. We stopped and took stock in the lights of the doorway. Joe brought out his watch and studied it a moment. Then he said, quietly:

"Y'know—I tink—it's suppertime now. Maybe everybody's eating supper now."