Crowds of people could be seen between the town gate and the harbour, under the bunches of multicoloured flags fluttering on tall poles.

Faint bursts of military music would be heard suddenly, and the remote sound of shouting.

A knot of ragged negroes at the end of the wharf kept on loading and firing a small iron cannon time after time.

A greyish haze of dust hung thin and motionless against the sun.
Don Vincente Ribiera made a few steps under the deck-awning, leaning on the arm of Senor Avellanos; a wide circle was formed round him, where the mirthless smile of his dark lips and the sightless glitter of his spectacles could be seen turning amiably from side to side.

The informal function arranged on purpose on board the Juno to give the President-Dictator an opportunity to meet intimately some of his most notable adherents in Sulaco was drawing to an end.