But he could not remain on board ship in port. Ships, he had enough of them! There was nothing to do but go ashore, landing at high tide at one of the two lugubrious piers, and make his way toward the squares ... past the blazing water-front where the prostitutes chanted like demented savages, past the saloons where the sailors drank until they dropped, or were knifed, or robbed, or crimped. Down the ill-lit streets, which must be trodden carefully, lest one should stumble into a heap of refuse. Down to the Plaza Victoria, with its dim arcades, or to the 25 de Mayo, with its cathedral, its stunted paradise trees. And from the houses came shafts of light, and the sound of voices, thump of guitars like little drums, high arguments, shuffle of cards.... Dark shadows and lonely immigrants, and the plea of some light woman's bully--"_cosa occulta_...." A dim watery moon, the portico of the cathedral, a woman exaggerating her walk.... Pah!... immigrants fearful of the coming snow.... A vigilante strutting like a colonel.... Mournful pampa winds.... The theaters? Sugary Italian opera; a stark Spanish drama, too intense for any but Latins, foreign; debauched vaudeville, incredibly vulgar; or at the concert-hall, sentimental Teutonic and Anglo-Saxon songs, with an audience of grave uncritical exiles--a little pathetic. No! The clubs? Oh, damn the clubs! A blaze of light and raucous voices, ships' masters, ships' chandlers, merchants, discussing the riddle of local politics, and the simony of office; or the price of hides, and freight charges; how a ship's master could turn a pretty penny in bringing out shoddy clothes, or pianos--Jesus! they were crazy for pianos here! Rattle of glasses and striking of matches. Bluff, ceremonious salutations. "Well, captain, what kind of a trip did you make out?" "Pretty fair, captain." "Will you have a little snifter, captain?" "Well, captain, seeing that it's you--" "Paddy, a little of what ails him for the captain--" And after a while the whisky would dissolve the ceremony, and would come nauseating intimacies. "We shipped a stewardess in Hull--" or "There was an Irish girl in the steerage, a raving beauty, and when I saw her, I said: Wait. So--" They were all the same. Give them whisky and time and the talk would come around to easy money and easy women. All were the same, bluff, sentimental, animal, all but the one or two hawk-eyed, close-lipped men who came and went silently, who drank little and drank by themselves. These men made the really big money, but it wasn't easy; they took a chance with their lives, smuggling slaves from Africa for the Argentine plantations, or silver from Chile and Peru. But as for the rest, easy money, easy women! Well, what was Campbell fussing about? Wasn't he too making easy money, bringing agricultural steel and cotton goods here and taking away his tally of hides? And as to easy women, wasn't there Hedda Hagen? Section 4