It was a rough, raw, Chicago day. The snow came in spurts1, cold and cutting from the north and the scantily2 dressed strikers were obliged to dance about and beat their hands to keep warm. Special mounted police were riding up and down the streets that paralleled the Burlington tracks, and ugly looking armed deputies were everywhere in evidence. The forced quiet that pervaded3 the opposing armies served only to increase the anxiety of the observing. Every man who had any direct interest in the contest seemed to have a chip on his shoulder.
At ten o'clock the strike was to be extended to all connecting lines, the switching yards and stock yards. When the hour arrived the switchmen threw up their caps and quit. Now the different companies made an effort to replace the strikers and trouble commenced. The deputies, who had been aching to get a whack4 at the strikers for countless5 cursings which they had received, now used their guns unmercifully upon the unprotected heads of the men, and the police, who disliked and refused to associate with the deputies, used their clubs upon all who resisted them. By eleven o'clock the whole city was in a state of riot and men bruised6 and bleeding were loaded into wagons7 and hurried away until the jails were filled with criminals, bums8, deputies and strikers. The police courts were constantly grinding out justice, or decisions intended to take the place of justice. Mothers were often seen begging the magistrates10 to release their boys and wives praying for the pardon of their husbands. These prayers were often unanswered and the poor women were forced to return to a lonely home, to an empty cupboard and a cold hearth11.
In the midst of the rioting on this wild day came Patsy Daly strolling up the track singing:
"Always together in sunshine and rain
Facing the weather atop o' th' train.
Watching the meadows move under the stars
Always together atop o' th' cars."
"Hello! there!" came from a box car.
"Hello to you," said Patsy as he turned out to see what the fellow was in for. "Now, what the divil you doin' caged up in this car?"
"I'm hidin' from the strikers," said the man, peeping cautiously out.
"Faith, and I'm one of them myself," says Patsy, "and I suppose you're after takin' my place, ye spalpeen; I have a right to swat your face for you, so I have."
"You couldn't do it if I was opposed," said the stranger opening the door.
"Oh! couldn't I? then let yourself drop to the ground till I take a little of the conceit12 out of you."
"No, I won't fight you," said the man, "I like your face and I want you to help me out."
"And I like your nerve; now, what's your pleasure? Have you been working in this strike?"
"I started to work this morning only to get something to eat on."
"Are you a railroad man?"
"I'm a switchman. I was foreman in the yards at Buffalo14, had a scrap15 with the yard-master who had boasted that he would not have a switchman he couldn't curse, an' got fired."
"Did you lick him?"
"Yes."
"Good and plenty?"
"Yes."
"Go on with your story."
"Well," said the man, seating himself in the door of the car, "I started out to get work--had my card from the Union and felt sure of success. I had only been married a year, but of course I had to leave my wife in Buffalo until I got located. When I applied16 for work I was asked for references and I had none. I told them where I had worked; they asked me to call later, and I called, only to learn that they didn't need any more men. This performance was repeated in every town I struck, until I began to believe that I had been blacklisted. In time my money gave out. I wrote to my wife and she sent me money. When that was gone I sent for more, not stopping to think that she had to eat, too, and that I had given her but ten dollars when I left home; but she sent me money.
"Then there came a time when she could not send me anything; I could not keep up my dues in the Union, so was expelled. After that I found it hard to get passes. Lots of times I had to steal them, and finally--for the first time in my life--I stole something to eat. Say, pardner, did you ever get so hungry that the hunger cramped17 you like cholera18 morbus?"
"No."
"Then I reckon you've never stole, or what's worse, scabbed?"
"No."
"Well--I've done both, though this is the first time I've scabbed. As I was sayin' I got down so low that I had to steal, and then I thought of my wife, of how terrible it would be if she should have to steal, or maybe worse, and the thought of it drove me almost crazy. She was a pretty girl when I married her, an orphan19 only eighteen and I was twenty-eight. I determined20 to go home at once, but before I could get out of town I was arrested as a vag and sent up for sixty days. I thought at that time that my punishment was great,--that the mental and physical suffering that I endured in the workhouse was all that I could stand,--but I've seen it beaten since. At last they told me that I could go, but that I would be expected to shake the city of Chicago before the sun rose on the following day, and I did. I hung myself up on the trucks of a Pullman on the Lake Shore Limited and landed in Buffalo just before dawn. As I hurried along the old familiar streets I noticed a crowd of people standing21 by a narrow canal and stopped to see what the excitement was. I saw them fish the limp and lifeless form of a woman out of the muddy water and when the moonlight fell upon her face it startled me, for it was so like her face. A moment later I got near enough to see that the victim was a blonde, and my wife was brunette. Presently I came to the house where we had lived, but it was closed and dark. I aroused a number of the neighbors, but none of them knew where the little woman had gone.
"'Shure,' said an old woman who was peddling22 milk, 'I don't know phere she's at at all, at all. That big good-fur-nothin' man o' hern has gone along and deserted23 of her an' broke the darlint's heart, so 'e 'as an' the end uv it all will be that she'll be afther drownin' 'erself in the canal beyant wan13 uv these foine nights.'
"All through the morning I searched the place for her, but not a trace could I find. It seemed that she had dropped out of the world, utterly24, and that no one had missed her. Finally I was so hungry that I begged a bite to eat and went down by the canal and fell asleep. Here a strange thing happened. I had a dreadful dream. I dreamed that I saw my wife being dragged from the dark waters of the canal. She had the same sad, sweet face, but not the same hair. I awoke in a cold sweat. I was now seized with an irresistible25 longing26 to look once more upon the face of the dead woman whom I had seen them fish from the foul27 waters that morning, and I set out for the morgue. I entered unnoticed and there lay the dead woman with her white hands folded upon her dead breast. She had the same sad, sweet face, but not the same hair, but it was she--it was my wife."
The vag let his head fall so that his eyes rested upon the ground. Patsy fished something from his vest and holding it out to the man, said: "Here's a one-dollar bill and a three-dollar meal ticket--which will you have?"
"Gi' me the pie-card."
"Which shows you're not a regular bum9," said Patsy.
"No," said the man, eyeing the meal ticket with its twenty-one unpunched holes. "I never cared for liquor, only once in a while when a bum makes a lift I take a nip just to stop the awful gnawing28, cramping29 pain of hunger, but it only makes you feel worse afterwards. But it's interesting," said the tramp, thoughtfully. "If it were not for the hunger and cold this new life that I have dropped into wouldn't be half bad. You get a closer glimpse of the miseries30 of mankind and a better notion of the causes that bring it all about. It educates you. Now take this fight for instance. You fellows feel sure of success, but I know better. Only two men of all the vast army of strikers have deserted so far, but wait. Wait till the pain of hunger hits you and doubles you up like a jack-knife, and it's sure to come. Behind the management there are merciless millions of money: behind the strikers the gaunt wolf of hunger stalks in the snow. Can you beat a game like that? Never. And after all what right have you and your people to expect mercy at the hands of organized capital? Does the Union show mercy to men like me? To escape the blight31 of the black-list I changed my name. Three times I found work, but in each instance the company were forced to discharge me or have a strike. I was not a Union man and so had to steal a ride out of town. Once I asked a farmer for work and he set me to digging post holes and every time a man came by I hid myself in the grass. 'What you hidin' fur?' the farmer asked. Then I told him that I didn't belong to the Union.
"'What Union?' says he.
"'The post-hole Union' says I--'in fact, I don't belong to any Union.'
"'They ain't no post-hole Union,' says the farmer indignantly, 'an' you know it. What you're givin' me is hog-wash--you've been stealin'. Here's a quarter fur what you've done--now git.'
"I tried to reason with him, but he only shook his thick head and began whistling for his dog, and I got. Yes, pardner, it seems to me that the tyranny of organized capital and the tyranny of organized labor32 are close competitors, and in their wake come the twin curses--the black-list and the boycot. Hand in hand they go, like red liquor and crime. But you can't right these wrongs the way you're headed now," said the philosopher. "Everything is against you. Wealth works wonders. The press, the telephone through which the public talks back to itself, is hoarse33 with the repetition of the story of your wrong-doings. Until the Government puts a limit to the abuses of trusts and monopolies, and organized labor has learned that there are other interests which have rights under the Constitution, there will be no peace on earth, no good will toward man. When the trusts are controlled, and labor submits its grievances34 to an impartial35, unbiased board of arbitration36, then there will be peace and plenty. The wages that you are now losing and the money squandered37 by vulgar and ignorant leaders, will then be used in building up and beautifying homes. The time thrown away in useless agitation38 and in idleness will be spent for the intellectual advancement39 of working men, and the millions of money lost in wrecked40 railroads will find its way to the pockets of honest investors41."
While this lecture, which interested Patsy, was being delivered the two men had become oblivious42 of their surroundings, but now the wild cry of a mob in a neighboring street, the rattle43 of sticks and stones and the occasional bark of a six-shooter brought them back to the business before them.
Wave after wave the rioters rolled against the little band of officers, but like billows that break upon a stony44 shore they were forced to roll back again. Like the naked minions45 of Montezuma, who hurled46 themselves against the armored army of the Spaniards, the strikers and their abetters were invariably beaten back with bruised heads and broken bones. If a luckless striker fell he was trampled47 upon by the horses of the mounted police or kicked into unconsciousness by the desperate deputies.
"Can you get me out of this so I can have a go at this pie-card?" asked the man.
"Yas," said Patsy, leaping into the car. "Skin off your coat."
When the two men had exchanged coats and caps the vag strolled leisurely48 down the track and in a little while Patsy followed. He had not gone three cars before the mob saw him and with the cry of "The scab! the scab!" sent a shower of sticks and stones after the flying brakeman. A rock struck Patsy on the head and he fell to the ground. The cap, which he had worn well over his eyes, fell off, and he was recognized by one of the strikers before his ribs49 could be kicked in. "Begad," said the leader of the mob, "it's the singin' brakeman. Th' bum have robbed 'im uv 'es clothes an' giv' us the slip," and they picked Patsy up and carried him away to the hospital.
收听单词发音 |
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spurts
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| 短暂而突然的活动或努力( spurt的名词复数 )； 突然奋起 | |
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scantily
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| adv.缺乏地；不充足地；吝啬地；狭窄地 | |
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pervaded
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| v.遍及，弥漫( pervade的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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whack
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| v.敲击，重打，瓜分；n.重击，重打，尝试，一份 | |
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countless
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| adj.无数的，多得不计其数的 | |
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bruised
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| [医]青肿的，瘀紫的 | |
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7
wagons
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| n.四轮的运货马车( wagon的名词复数 )；铁路货车；小手推车 | |
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8
bums
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| n. 游荡者，流浪汉，懒鬼，闹饮，屁股 adj. 没有价值的，不灵光的，不合理的 vt. 令人失望，乞讨 vi. 混日子，以乞讨为生 | |
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bum
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| n.臀部；流浪汉，乞丐；vt.乞求，乞讨 | |
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magistrates
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| 地方法官，治安官( magistrate的名词复数 ) | |
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hearth
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| n.壁炉炉床，壁炉地面 | |
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12
conceit
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| n.自负，自高自大 | |
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13
wan
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| (wide area network)广域网 | |
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14
buffalo
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| n.(北美)野牛；(亚洲)水牛 | |
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15
scrap
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| n.碎片；废料；v.废弃，报废 | |
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16
applied
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| adj.应用的；v.应用，适用 | |
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cramped
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| a.狭窄的 | |
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cholera
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| n.霍乱 | |
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orphan
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| n.孤儿；adj.无父母的 | |
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20
determined
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| adj.坚定的；有决心的 | |
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standing
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| n.持续，地位；adj.永久的，不动的，直立的，不流动的 | |
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22
peddling
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| 忙于琐事的，无关紧要的 | |
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deserted
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| adj.荒芜的，荒废的，无人的，被遗弃的 | |
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24
utterly
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| adv.完全地，绝对地 | |
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25
irresistible
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| adj.非常诱人的，无法拒绝的，无法抗拒的 | |
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26
longing
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| n.（for）渴望 | |
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27
foul
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| adj.污秽的；邪恶的；v.弄脏；妨害；犯规；n.犯规 | |
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28
gnawing
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| a.痛苦的，折磨人的 | |
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29
cramping
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| 图像压缩 | |
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30
miseries
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| n.痛苦( misery的名词复数 )；痛苦的事；穷困；常发牢骚的人 | |
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blight
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| n.枯萎病；造成破坏的因素；vt.破坏，摧残 | |
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32
labor
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| n.劳动，努力，工作，劳工；分娩；vi.劳动，努力，苦干；vt.详细分析；麻烦 | |
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33
hoarse
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| adj.嘶哑的，沙哑的 | |
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grievances
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| n.委屈( grievance的名词复数 )；苦衷；不满；牢骚 | |
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35
impartial
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| adj.(in,to)公正的，无偏见的 | |
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arbitration
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| n.调停，仲裁 | |
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37
squandered
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| v.（指钱，财产等）浪费，乱花( squander的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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38
agitation
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| n.搅动；搅拌；鼓动，煽动 | |
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39
advancement
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| n.前进，促进，提升 | |
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40
wrecked
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| adj.失事的，遇难的 | |
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41
investors
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| n.投资者，出资者( investor的名词复数 ) | |
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42
oblivious
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| adj.易忘的，遗忘的，忘却的，健忘的 | |
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43
rattle
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| v.飞奔，碰响；激怒；n.碰撞声；拨浪鼓 | |
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44
stony
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| adj.石头的，多石头的，冷酷的，无情的 | |
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45
minions
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| n.奴颜婢膝的仆从( minion的名词复数 )；走狗；宠儿；受人崇拜者 | |
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46
hurled
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| v.猛投，用力掷( hurl的过去式和过去分词 )；大声叫骂 | |
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47
trampled
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| 踩( trample的过去式和过去分词 )； 践踏； 无视； 侵犯 | |
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48
leisurely
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| adj.悠闲的；从容的，慢慢的 | |
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49
ribs
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| n.肋骨( rib的名词复数 )；（船或屋顶等的）肋拱；肋骨状的东西；（织物的）凸条花纹 | |
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