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Men, Women, and Boats

S >> Stephen Crane >> Men, Women, and Boats




Of a sudden a cry of relief, a feminine announcement that the stars
still hung, burst from her. For, according to some mystic process, the
smoldering coals of the fire went aflame with sudden, fierce brilliance,
splashing parts of the walls, the floor, the crude furniture, with a hue
of blood-red. And in the light of this dramatic outburst of light, the
girl saw her father seated at a table with his back turned toward her.

She entered the room, then, with an aggrieved air, her logic evidently
concluding that somebody was to blame for her nervous fright. "Oh, yer
on'y sulkin' 'bout yer supper. I thought mebbe ye'd gone somewheres."

Her father made no reply. She went over to a shelf in the corner, and,
taking a little lamp, she lit it and put it where it would give her
light as she took off her hat and jacket in front of the tiny mirror.
Presently she began to bustle among the cooking utensils that were
crowded into the sink, and as she worked she rattled talk at her father,
apparently disdaining his mood.

"I'd 'a' come home earlier t'night, Dad, on'y that fly foreman, he kep'
me in th' shop 'til half-past six. What a fool! He came t' me, yeh know,
an' he ses, 'Nell, I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice.' Oh, I know
him an' his brotherly advice. 'I wanta give yeh some brotherly advice.
Yer too purty, Nell,' he ses, 't' be workin' in this shop an' paradin'
through the streets alone, without somebody t' give yeh good brotherly
advice, an' I wanta warn yeh, Nell. I'm a bad man, but I ain't as bad as
some, an' I wanta warn yeh.' 'Oh, g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. I
know 'im. He's like all of 'em, on'y he's a little slyer. I know 'im.
'You g'long 'bout yer business,' I ses. Well, he ses after a while that
he guessed some evenin' he'd come up an' see me. 'Oh, yeh will,' I ses,
'yeh will? Well, you jest let my ol' man ketch yeh comin' foolin' 'round
our place. Yeh'll wish yeh went t' some other girl t' give brotherly
advice.' 'What th' 'ell do I care fer yer father?' he ses. 'What's he t'
me?' 'If he throws yeh downstairs, yeh'll care for 'im,' I ses. 'Well,'
he ses, 'I'll come when 'e ain't in, b' Gawd, I'll come when 'e ain't
in.' 'Oh, he's allus in when it means takin' care 'o me,' I ses. 'Don't
yeh fergit it, either. When it comes t' takin' care o' his dorter, he's
right on deck every single possible time.'"

After a time, she turned and addressed cheery words to the old man.
"Hurry up th' fire, Daddie! We'll have supper pretty soon."

But still her father was silent, and his form in its sullen posture was
motionless.

At this, the girl seemed to see the need of the inauguration of a
feminine war against a man out of temper. She approached him breathing
soft, coaxing syllables.

"Daddie! Oh, Daddie! O--o--oh, Daddie!"

It was apparent from a subtle quality of valor in her tones that this
manner of onslaught upon his moods had usually been successful, but to-
night it had no quick effect. The words, coming from her lips, were like
the refrain of an old ballad, but the man remained stolid.

"Daddie! My Daddie! Oh, Daddie, are yeh mad at me, really--truly mad at
me!"

She touched him lightly upon the arm. Should he have turned then he
would have seen the fresh, laughing face, with dew-sparkling eyes, close
to his own.

"Oh, Daddie! My Daddie! Pretty Daddie!"

She stole her arm about his neck, and then slowly bended her face toward
his. It was the action of a queen who knows that she reigns
notwithstanding irritations, trials, tempests.

But suddenly, from this position, she leaped backward with the mad
energy of a frightened colt. Her face was in this instant turned to a
grey, featureless thing of horror. A yell, wild and hoarse as a brute-
cry, burst from her. "Daddie!" She flung herself to a place near the
door, where she remained, crouching, her eyes staring at the motionless
figure, spattered by the quivering flashes from the fire. Her arms
extended, and her frantic fingers at once besought and repelled. There
was in them an expression of eagerness to caress and an expression of
the most intense loathing. And the girl's hair that had been a splendor,
was in these moments changed to a disordered mass that hung and swayed
in witchlike fashion.

Again, a terrible cry burst from her. It was more than the shriek of
agony--it was directed, personal, addressed to him in the chair, the
first word of a tragic conversation with the dead.

It seemed that when she had put her arm about its neck, she had jostled
the corpse in such a way that now she and it were face to face. The
attitude expressed an intention of arising from the table. The eyes,
fixed upon hers, were filled with an unspeakable hatred.

* * * * *

The cries of the girl aroused thunders in the tenement. There was a loud
slamming of doors, and presently there was a roar of feet upon the
boards of the stairway. Voices rang out sharply.

"What is it?"

"What's th' matter?"

"He's killin' her!"

"Slug 'im with anythin' yeh kin lay hold of, Jack!"

But over all this came the shrill, shrewish tones of a woman. "Ah, th'
damned ol' fool, he's drivin' 'er inteh th' street--that's what he's
doin'. He's drivin' 'er inteh th' street."




A DARK-BROWN DOG


A child was standing on a street-corner. He leaned with one shoulder
against a high board fence and swayed the other to and fro, the while
kicking carelessly at the gravel.

Sunshine beat upon the cobbles, and a lazy summer wind raised yellow
dust which trailed in clouds down the avenue. Clattering trucks moved
with indistinctness through it. The child stood dreamily gazing.

After a time, a little dark-brown dog came trotting with an intent air
down the sidewalk. A short rope was dragging from his neck. Occasionally
he trod upon the end of it and stumbled.

He stopped opposite the child, and the two regarded each other. The dog
hesitated for a moment, but presently he made some little advances with
his tail. The child put out his hand and called him. In an apologetic
manner the dog came close, and the two had an interchange of friendly
pattings and waggles. The dog became more enthusiastic with each moment
of the interview, until with his gleeful caperings he threatened to
overturn the child. Whereupon the child lifted his hand and struck the
dog a blow upon the head.

This thing seemed to overpower and astonish the little dark-brown dog,
and wounded him to the heart. He sank down in despair at the child's
feet. When the blow was repeated, together with an admonition in
childish sentences, he turned over upon his back, and held his paws in a
peculiar manner. At the same time with his ears and his eyes he offered
a small prayer to the child.

He looked so comical on his back, and holding his paws peculiarly, that
the child was greatly amused and gave him little taps repeatedly, to
keep him so. But the little dark-brown dog took this chastisement in the
most serious way and no doubt considered that he had committed some
grave crime, for he wriggled contritely and showed his repentance in
every way that was in his power. He pleaded with the child and
petitioned him, and offered more prayers.

At last the child grew weary of this amusement and turned toward home.
The dog was praying at the time. He lay on his back and turned his eyes
upon the retreating form.

Presently he struggled to his feet and started after the child. The
latter wandered in a perfunctory way toward his home, stopping at times
to investigate various matters. During one of these pauses he discovered
the little dark-brown dog who was following him with the air of a
footpad.

The child beat his pursuer with a small stick he had found. The dog lay
down and prayed until the child had finished, and resumed his journey.
Then he scrambled erect and took up the pursuit again.

On the way to his home the child turned many times and beat the dog,
proclaiming with childish gestures that he held him in contempt as an
unimportant dog, with no value save for a moment. For being this quality
of animal the dog apologized and eloquently expressed regret, but he
continued stealthily to follow the child. His manner grew so very guilty
that he slunk like an assassin.

When the child reached his doorstep, the dog was industriously ambling a
few yards in the rear. He became so agitated with shame when he again
confronted the child that he forgot the dragging rope. He tripped upon
it and fell forward.

The child sat down on the step and the two had another interview. During
it the dog greatly exerted himself to please the child. He performed a
few gambols with such abandon that the child suddenly saw him to be a
valuable thing. He made a swift, avaricious charge and seized the rope.

He dragged his captive into a hall and up many long stairways in a dark
tenement. The dog made willing efforts, but he could not hobble very
skilfully up the stairs because he was very small and soft, and at last
the pace of the engrossed child grew so energetic that the dog became
panic-stricken. In his mind he was being dragged toward a grim unknown.
His eyes grew wild with the terror of it. He began to wiggle his head
frantically and to brace his legs.

The child redoubled his exertions. They had a battle on the stairs. The
child was victorious because he was completely absorbed in his purpose,
and because the dog was very small. He dragged his acquirement to the
door of his home, and finally with triumph across the threshold.

No one was in. The child sat down on the floor and made overtures to the
dog. These the dog instantly accepted. He beamed with affection upon his
new friend. In a short time they were firm and abiding comrades.

When the child's family appeared, they made a great row. The dog was
examined and commented upon and called names. Scorn was leveled at him
from all eyes, so that he became much embarrassed and drooped like a
scorched plant. But the child went sturdily to the center of the floor,
and, at the top of his voice, championed the dog. It happened that he
was roaring protestations, with his arms clasped about the dog's neck,
when the father of the family came in from work.

The parent demanded to know what the blazes they were making the kid
howl for. It was explained in many words that the infernal kid wanted to
introduce a disreputable dog into the family.

A family council was held. On this depended the dog's fate, but he in no
way heeded, being busily engaged in chewing the end of the child's
dress.

The affair was quickly ended. The father of the family, it appears, was
in a particularly savage temper that evening, and when he perceived that
it would amaze and anger everybody if such a dog were allowed to remain,
he decided that it should be so. The child, crying softly, took his
friend off to a retired part of the room to hobnob with him, while the
father quelled a fierce rebellion of his wife. So it came to pass that
the dog was a member of the household.

He and the child were associated together at all times save when the
child slept. The child became a guardian and a friend. If the large folk
kicked the dog and threw things at him, the child made loud and violent
objections. Once when the child had run, protesting loudly, with tears
raining down his face and his arms outstretched, to protect his friend,
he had been struck in the head with a very large saucepan from the hand
of his father, enraged at some seeming lack of courtesy in the dog. Ever
after, the family were careful how they threw things at the dog.
Moreover, the latter grew very skilful in avoiding missiles and feet. In
a small room containing a stove, a table, a bureau and some chairs, he
would display strategic ability of a high order, dodging, feinting and
scuttling about among the furniture. He could force three or four people
armed with brooms, sticks and handfuls of coal, to use all their
ingenuity to get in a blow. And even when they did, it was seldom that
they could do him a serious injury or leave any imprint.

But when the child was present these scenes did not occur. It came to be
recognized that if the dog was molested, the child would burst into
sobs, and as the child, when started, was very riotous and practically
unquenchable, the dog had therein a safeguard.

However, the child could not always be near. At night, when he was
asleep, his dark-brown friend would raise from some black corner a wild,
wailful cry, a song of infinite loneliness and despair, that would go
shuddering and sobbing among the buildings of the block and cause people
to swear. At these times the singer would often be chased all over the
kitchen and hit with a great variety of articles.

Sometimes, too, the child himself used to beat the dog, although it is
not known that he ever had what truly could be called a just cause. The
dog always accepted these thrashings with an air of admitted guilt. He
was too much of a dog to try to look to be a martyr or to plot revenge.
He received the blows with deep humility, and furthermore he forgave his
friend the moment the child had finished, and was ready to caress the
child's hand with his little red tongue.

When misfortune came upon the child, and his troubles overwhelmed him,
he would often crawl under the table and lay his small distressed head
on the dog's back. The dog was ever sympathetic. It is not to be
supposed that at such times he took occasion to refer to the unjust
beatings his friend, when provoked, had administered to him.

He did not achieve any notable degree of intimacy with the other members
of the family. He had no confidence in them, and the fear that he would
express at their casual approach often exasperated them exceedingly.
They used to gain a certain satisfaction in underfeeding him, but
finally his friend the child grew to watch the matter with some care,
and when he forgot it, the dog was often successful in secret for
himself.

So the dog prospered. He developed a large bark, which came wondrously
from such a small rug of a dog. He ceased to howl persistently at night.
Sometimes, indeed, in his sleep, he would utter little yells, as from
pain, but that occurred, no doubt, when in his dreams he encountered
huge flaming dogs who threatened him direfully.

His devotion to the child grew until it was a sublime thing. He wagged
at his approach; he sank down in despair at his departure. He could
detect the sound of the child's step among all the noises of the
neighborhood. It was like a calling voice to him.

The scene of their companionship was a kingdom governed by this terrible
potentate, the child; but neither criticism nor rebellion ever lived for
an instant in the heart of the one subject. Down in the mystic, hidden
fields of his little dog-soul bloomed flowers of love and fidelity and
perfect faith.

The child was in the habit of going on many expeditions to observe
strange things in the vicinity. On these occasions his friend usually
jogged aimfully along behind. Perhaps, though, he went ahead. This
necessitated his turning around every quarter-minute to make sure the
child was coming. He was filled with a large idea of the importance of
these journeys. He would carry himself with such an air! He was proud to
be the retainer of so great a monarch.

One day, however, the father of the family got quite exceptionally
drunk. He came home and held carnival with the cooking utensils, the
furniture and his wife. He was in the midst of this recreation when the
child, followed by the dark-brown dog, entered the room. They were
returning from their voyages.

The child's practised eye instantly noted his father's state. He dived
under the table, where experience had taught him was a rather safe
place. The dog, lacking skill in such matters, was, of course, unaware
of the true condition of affairs. He looked with interested eyes at his
friend's sudden dive. He interpreted it to mean: Joyous gambol. He
started to patter across the floor to join him. He was the picture of a
little dark-brown dog en route to a friend.

The head of the family saw him at this moment. He gave a huge howl of
joy, and knocked the dog down with a heavy coffee-pot. The dog, yelling
in supreme astonishment and fear, writhed to his feet and ran for cover.
The man kicked out with a ponderous foot. It caused the dog to swerve as
if caught in a tide. A second blow of the coffee-pot laid him upon the
floor.

Here the child, uttering loud cries, came valiantly forth like a knight.
The father of the family paid no attention to these calls of the child,
but advanced with glee upon the dog. Upon being knocked down twice in
swift succession, the latter apparently gave up all hope of escape. He
rolled over on his back and held his paws in a peculiar manner. At the
same time with his eyes and his ears he offered up a small prayer.

But the father was in a mood for having fun, and it occurred to him that
it would be a fine thing to throw the dog out of the window. So he
reached down and, grabbing the animal by a leg, lifted him, squirming,
up. He swung him two or three times hilariously about his head, and then
flung him with great accuracy through the window.

The soaring dog created a surprise in the block. A woman watering plants
in an opposite window gave an involuntary shout and dropped a flower-
pot. A man in another window leaned perilously out to watch the flight
of the dog. A woman who had been hanging out clothes in a yard began to
caper wildly. Her mouth was filled with clothes-pins, but her arms gave
vent to a sort of exclamation. In appearance she was like a gagged
prisoner. Children ran whooping.

The dark-brown body crashed in a heap on the roof of a shed five stories
below. From thence it rolled to the pavement of an alleyway.

The child in the room far above burst into a long, dirge-like cry, and
toddled hastily out of the room. It took him a long time to reach the
alley, because his size compelled him to go downstairs backward, one
step at a time, and holding with both hands to the step above.

When they came for him later, they found him seated by the body of his
dark-brown friend.




THE PACE OF YOUTH


I

Stimson stood in a corner and glowered. He was a fierce man and had
indomitable whiskers, albeit he was very small.

"That young tarrier," he whispered to himself. "He wants to quit makin'
eyes at Lizzie. This is too much of a good thing. First thing you know,
he'll get fired."

His brow creased in a frown, he strode over to the huge open doors and
looked at a sign. "Stimson's Mammoth Merry-Go-Round," it read, and the
glory of it was great. Stimson stood and contemplated the sign. It was
an enormous affair; the letters were as large as men. The glow of it,
the grandeur of it was very apparent to Stimson. At the end of his
contemplation, he shook his head thoughtfully, determinedly. "No, no,"
he muttered. "This is too much of a good thing. First thing you know,
he'll get fired."

A soft booming sound of surf, mingled with the cries of bathers, came
from the beach. There was a vista of sand and sky and sea that drew to a
mystic point far away in the northward. In the mighty angle, a girl in a
red dress was crawling slowly like some kind of a spider on the fabric
of nature. A few flags hung lazily above where the bathhouses were
marshalled in compact squares. Upon the edge of the sea stood a ship
with its shadowy sails painted dimly upon the sky, and high overhead in
the still, sun-shot air a great hawk swung and drifted slowly.

Within the Merry-Go-Round there was a whirling circle of ornamental
lions, giraffes, camels, ponies, goats, glittering with varnish and
metal that caught swift reflections from windows high above them. With
stiff wooden legs, they swept on in a never-ending race, while a great
orchestrion clamored in wild speed. The summer sunlight sprinkled its
gold upon the garnet canopies carried by the tireless racers and upon
all the devices of decoration that made Stimson's machine magnificent
and famous. A host of laughing children bestrode the animals, bending
forward like charging cavalrymen, and shaking reins and whooping in
glee. At intervals they leaned out perilously to clutch at iron rings
that were tendered to them by a long wooden arm. At the intense moment
before the swift grab for the rings one could see their little nervous
bodies quiver with eagerness; the laughter rang shrill and excited. Down
in the long rows of benches, crowds of people sat watching the game,
while occasionally a father might arise and go near to shout
encouragement, cautionary commands, or applause at his flying offspring.
Frequently mothers called out: "Be careful, Georgie!" The orchestrion
bellowed and thundered on its platform, filling the ears with its long
monotonous song. Over in a corner, a man in a white apron and behind a
counter roared above the tumult: "Popcorn! Popcorn!"

A young man stood upon a small, raised platform, erected in a manner of
a pulpit, and just without the line of the circling figures. It was his
duty to manipulate the wooden arm and affix the rings. When all were
gone into the hands of the triumphant children, he held forth a basket,
into which they returned all save the coveted brass one, which meant
another ride free and made the holder very illustrious. The young man
stood all day upon his narrow platform, affixing rings or holding forth
the basket. He was a sort of general squire in these lists of childhood.
He was very busy.

And yet Stimson, the astute, had noticed that the young man frequently
found time to twist about on his platform and smile at a girl who shyly
sold tickets behind a silvered netting. This, indeed, was the great
reason of Stimson's glowering. The young man upon the raised platform
had no manner of license to smile at the girl behind the silvered
netting. It was a most gigantic insolence. Stimson was amazed at it. "By
Jiminy," he said to himself again, "that fellow is smiling at my
daughter." Even in this tone of great wrath it could be discerned that
Stimson was filled with wonder that any youth should dare smile at the
daughter in the presence of the august father.

Often the dark-eyed girl peered between the shining wires, and, upon
being detected by the young man, she usually turned her head quickly to
prove to him that she was not interested. At other times, however, her
eyes seemed filled with a tender fear lest he should fall from that
exceedingly dangerous platform. As for the young man, it was plain that
these glances filled him with valor, and he stood carelessly upon his
perch, as if he deemed it of no consequence that he might fall from it.
In all the complexities of his daily life and duties he found
opportunity to gaze ardently at the vision behind the netting.

This silent courtship was conducted over the heads of the crowd who
thronged about the bright machine. The swift eloquent glances of the
young man went noiselessly and unseen with their message. There had
finally become established between the two in this manner a subtle
understanding and companionship. They communicated accurately all that
they felt. The boy told his love, his reverence, his hope in the changes
of the future. The girl told him that she loved him, and she did not
love him, that she did not know if she loved him. Sometimes a little
sign, saying "cashier" in gold letters, and hanging upon the silvered
netting, got directly in range and interfered with the tender message.

The love affair had not continued without anger, unhappiness, despair.
The girl had once smiled brightly upon a youth who came to buy some
tickets for his little sister, and the young man upon the platform,
observing this smile, had been filled with gloomy rage. He stood like a
dark statue of vengeance upon his pedestal and thrust out the basket to
the children with a gesture that was full of scorn for their hollow
happiness, for their insecure and temporary joy. For five hours he did
not once look at the girl when she was looking at him. He was going to
crush her with his indifference; he was going to demonstrate that he had
never been serious. However, when he narrowly observed her in secret he
discovered that she seemed more blythe than was usual with her. When he
found that his apparent indifference had not crushed her he suffered
greatly. She did not love him, he concluded. If she had loved him she
would have been crushed. For two days he lived a miserable existence
upon his high perch. He consoled himself by thinking of how unhappy he
was, and by swift, furtive glances at the loved face. At any rate he was
in her presence, and he could get a good view from his perch when there
was no interference by the little sign: "Cashier."

But suddenly, swiftly, these clouds vanished, and under the imperial
blue sky of the restored confidence they dwelt in peace, a peace that
was satisfaction, a peace that, like a babe, put its trust in the
treachery of the future. This confidence endured until the next day,
when she, for an unknown cause, suddenly refused to look at him.
Mechanically he continued his task, his brain dazed, a tortured victim
of doubt, fear, suspicion. With his eyes he supplicated her to telegraph
an explanation. She replied with a stony glance that froze his blood.
There was a great difference in their respective reasons for becoming
angry. His were always foolish, but apparent, plain as the moon. Hers
were subtle, feminine, as incomprehensible as the stars, as mysterious
as the shadows at night.

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