Buenos Aires

Buenos Aires is a place of departure and precarious passage for Joe Williams: at its waterfront he leaves his uniform behind, watches the fleet steam down the River Plate, and seeks a berth that will get him back to sea. In the city’s warehouses and back streets, that search leads him to forged papers, a suspicious intermediary, and a job that leaves him with no money in his pocket.

Waterfront and Departure

At noon, Joe Williams changes into a secondhand suit and drops his uniform, wrapped around a cobblestone, into the muddy basin. He regrets having left his cigarbox behind in the shed, retrieves it, and carries it under his arm as he walks to the beacon. Inside are keepsakes from several parts of his life: photographs of Janey, Alec, and the high-school baseball team he captained; a faded picture of his father’s tug, the Mary B. Sullivan; a photograph taken in Malaga; and small pink and red shells collected at Santiago. The box holds a personal record of people, work, and travel as he stands on the verge of another departure.

Under an overcast sky, Joe watches a fleet in formation steam down the River Plate until the cruisers blur into their smoke. He then turns his attention to a rusty tramp steamer, listing heavily to port, its hull green with weed and a Greek flag at its stern. A smiling man approaches and speaks Spanish; Joe says he does not understand and walks away, unsettled by the encounter. The waterfront presents ships as possible passage, but it does not make the next step safe or certain.

Seeking a Berth

Joe’s later explanation of his circumstances is blunt: he had been on the beach in Buenos Aires and had to take the first berth he could get. His search for a place aboard ship brings him into contact with people who can arrange forged able-seaman papers. After a woman introduces him to Paquito, Joe asks directly whether Paquito knows how to obtain the papers. Paquito leads him by streetcar to a cheap suburban district of new cement houses, where another man bargains with Joe through a half-open door.

The intermediary asks how much Joe can afford. Joe has twenty American dollars, concealed in his belt beneath a few stitches. He takes out the bills but holds on to them while he examines the papers. The transaction is not simply a purchase: Joe signs a separate authorization allowing Titterton’s Marine Agency to garnish his monthly pay until ten pounds have been collected. When he objects that the arrangement means he will pay seventy dollars, the intermediary insists that Joe can accept it or leave it. Joe signs.

Warehouse Offices and the Cost of Passage

The next stage takes Joe and the intermediary downtown by streetcar to Rivadavia Street, where they enter a small office behind a warehouse. Mr. McGregor, a bilious-looking Scotsman, examines the certificate and asks whether Joe is American and whether he expects American pay. After the intermediary whispers to him, McGregor accepts the document and tells Joe to sign the book. Joe does so, then hands over the twenty dollars; he is left flat. His hesitation before taking the intermediary’s hand at parting registers the price of the arrangement without undoing it.

Buenos Aires links the open route of the river to the closed rooms where a berth is negotiated. The ships offer movement; the paper trail makes that movement possible only through a deal that binds Joe’s future wages and strips him of his immediate cash. His departure from the city is therefore both an escape from being stranded and a fresh exposure to the people who control access to work at sea.