At one end of the building are the offices, where the freight agent and his clerks labour with reports and receipts and bills of lading—a mass and complexity3 of documents appalling4 and seemingly inextricable. The offices are crowded and gloomy and ill-smelling, for here, too, the road economizes5 at the expense of its employees’ health; but their condition is order and cleanliness itself when compared with that of the great echoing freight-shed which occupies three-fourths of the building. No light penetrates6 to it except from the doors, for there is no room for windows, and the doors are overhung by the wide, low roof which covers the surrounding platform. As a result, the freight-shed resembles a cavern7 in everything but atmosphere. In that, it resembles only itself; for its atmosphere is a thing apart, a thing to be encountered nowhere else, compounded as it is of a variety of odours which defy enumeration8. You have seen composite photographs? Well, the freight-house atmosphere reminded one of a composite photograph of particularly ugly people. It was something to flee from and wonder at and remember with awe9.
A wide platform the height of a freight car door runs all around this portion of the building, abutting10 on one side on the yards and on the other on the street. Behind it, and stretching along between the yards and the street, is a long platform, an extension of the one running around the building. Beside this platform, a long line of freight cars is always standing—loaded cars from which the freight is being yanked out into the freight-house, or empties into which freight from the house is being hustled11. And so various it is—crates, boxes, barrels, kegs, baskets, loose pieces of steel and iron, great sacks of burlap—it is impossible to give any idea of it here. Imagine, if you can, all the things you ever saw in all the stores in town, and all the raw material which is used in your town’s manufactures, and you will find that nearly all of it came through the freight depot12; to say nothing of your town’s products which go out again. It is a strenuous13 place, the freight depot, and the men who labour there are big-armed and strong-backed and deep-chested. For theirs is a job that demands brawn14.
It was the echoing cavern of the freight-shed at Wadsworth which had been selected by Mr. Round as headquarters for the strike-breakers, not because it was particularly adapted to that use, but because it was the only place available. So the freight on hand had to be carefully sorted over, the larger articles taken out and stacked on the platform, the smaller ones stacked up at the end of the room nearest the offices, behind a flimsy board partition which had been hastily nailed up. Behind this barrier the freight men were instructed to transact15 their business, and orders were issued that on no account should any of them be permitted any intercourse16 with the strike-breakers.
Then some attempt was made to clean the remainder of the room; the tables and cots were put in place, the range installed, the cook put to work arranging his pantry, and the place was ready for its occupants. These, as has been said, arrived on the evening train, and were at once marched over to the place which was to be their home for an indefinite length of time.
Under the glare of the gas lights overhead, the place presented a somewhat more attractive appearance than it did by day, and the bountiful supper which was soon provided did its share toward putting the newcomers in good humour with themselves and their surroundings. The odour of cooking had served to mitigate18 the odour of the freight-house, and a cloud of tobacco smoke soon wiped it out altogether. The strike-breakers, under the softening19 influence of all this, began to look around at each other and to take the first steps toward getting acquainted.
For they were strangers to each other; they had been gathered together hastily from many different sources, and were as diverse in appearance and, no doubt, in character, as forty-eight men could be. None of them, it was evident at once, would rank very high in the social scale. Most of them were plainly failures, and a glance at their rubicund20 and mottled faces revealed what the principal cause of failure had been.
“But then,” as Mr. Schofield was remarking to Mr. Plumfield and Allan West, in his office across the yards, at that very moment, “we can keep drink away from them for a time, or, at least, give them just enough to keep them from losing their nerve. It will be easy enough for the first two or three days, but after that we’ll have to look out. The drink hunger will get some of them sure, and they’ll break away; but most of them will stay, because we won’t give them any money till payday, and they’re all broke. Those who want to go, we’ll have to let go, of course, for we can’t hold them prisoners—though we’ll be accused of doing it, no matter what happens. Now what I want to say is this—we need a man we can trust to make his headquarters in that freight-house and to keep his eye out for trouble. And, Allan, I’m going to give you charge of the situation here. Mr. Plumfield and myself will have to be looking after matters at other points on the line—I’m going to Cincinnati to-morrow and George will go to Parkersburg. I don’t believe there’s as much chance of trouble here as there is at Cincinnati, where a mob of thugs and toughs can be collected in no time; or at a river town like Parkersburg, where there are always a lot of roust-abouts looking for trouble.”
“I don’t know,” said Mr. Plumfield, slowly. “There are more railroad men here than at any other point on the division, since this is division headquarters. And the entire police force consists of about a dozen men.”
“I know that,” replied the superintendent21; “but there’s mighty22 few of the railroad men who will give us any trouble; even if they did want to, in a small town like this everybody knows them, and a man doesn’t begin to riot and destroy property where he’s generally known—he’s too likely to be caught and punished. Anyway, Allan must take the job.”
“All right, sir,” said Allan. “I’ll do my best.”
“And now who’s the right man to put over there in the freight-house?”
Mr. Schofield nodded his approval.
“The very man,” he agreed. “Will you see him?”
“Yes, sir; right away,” and a moment later he was hurrying away in the direction of Reddy’s home.
It may be explained in passing that, in Reddy Magraw’s home, Allan West was regarded with a degree of veneration24 and affection possible only to warm Irish hearts.
In the old days, by an accident, it is true, he had brought Reddy out of a dangerous condition of insanity25, and, since that time, any member of the Magraw household would have cheerfully risked life and limb for him. So, when, in answer to his knock, Mrs. Magraw opened the door, her honest Irish face lighted with pleasure at sight of him.
“Why, good avenin’, Mister West,” she cried. “Won’t ye come in?”
“I surely will,” said Allan. “But since when have I been ‘Mister’ West?” he added, laughingly, as he stepped inside.
“Iver since you’ve been chief dispatcher,” answered Mrs. Magraw promptly, leading the way and holding the lamp carefully so that he could see. “Indade, we knows our place, sir, an’ it’s not fer the likes of us t’ be gittin’ too familiar with the chief dispatcher.”
“Nonsense, Mrs. Magraw,” laughed Allan. “I’m just the same fellow I always was—I haven’t changed a bit.”
“Not in yer heart, God bless ye. I know that ain’t changed an’ niver will be. Reddy,” she added, opening the door and showing Allan into the room which served as dining-room and sitting-room26, “Reddy, here’s Mister West.”
“Mister West?” echoed Reddy, looking up in surprise. “Who d’ye— Oh, how are ye, Allan,” he cried, recognizing the visitor, and springing to his feet with hand outstretched.
“First rate, thank you. And I’m glad you remember my first name, anyhow.”
“Oh,” said Reddy, “the ole woman’s been so stuck up iver since ye got your promotion27 you’d think it was me. It’s been Mister West this an’ Mister West that, till half the time I didn’t know who she was talkin’ about. Won’t you set down?”
“Yes,” answered Allan, getting out of his coat, which Mrs. Magraw was waiting to receive. “I’ve come for a little talk. Oh, don’t send them away, Mrs. Magraw,” he added quickly, for at his words, that lady had begun to herd28 the children out of the room. “They won’t be in the way.”
“Yes, they will, sir,” she contradicted. “Besides, little pitchers29 has big ears; though if I iver caught one o’ them kids repatin’ anything ye didn’t want repated, I’d kill him, I would, an’ think it good riddance. But it’s best t’ be on the safe side, an’ they’ll be very well off in the kitchen.”
The two youngest were protesting somewhat lustily that they did not think they would be at all well off in the kitchen, and immensely preferred to remain where they could continue to gaze at the illustrious visitor; but their mother was inexorable, and banished30 the whole herd together.
“An’ now,” said Reddy, when that had been safely accomplished31 and the door was shut, “what is it?”
“You know the strike begins to-morrow?”
“Yes.”
“And you know what it’s about?”
“Yes. But I can’t hardly believe it. Neither kin17 anybody else who knows that drunken Rafe Bassett. It’s about him, ain’t it?”
“Yes—we’ve fired him.”
“An’ small blame to ye.”
“And we won’t take him back.”
“An’ right ye are. I hope ye’ll fight it out.”
“We intend to. Mr. Schofield has placed me in charge of the situation here.”
“An’ they couldn’t ’a’ got anybody better,” put in Reddy, with conviction.
“I’m going to do the best I can, anyway—and I want you to help.”
“I’m ready.”
“You know we brought in a lot of men to-night to take the place of the strikers.”
Reddy nodded.
“We’ve got the freight-house fitted up for them, and Stanley has a detail of men guarding it. You know as well as I do that the only way to hold those men is to keep the strikers away from them. Stanley can keep guard all right on the outside, but we’ve got to have somebody to keep guard on the inside. I want you to go to work there as a kind of head bottle-washer, and keep your eyes open for trouble. At the first sign of it, let me know.”
Reddy nodded again.
“All right,” he said. “I ain’t much at bottle-washin’, but I knows how t’ kape my eyes open an’ my ears too. When do I begin?”
“The sooner the better.”
“I’ll go over right away, then,” and Reddy took down his hat and put on his coat. “Good-bye, old woman,” he added to his wife, who had been sitting listening silently to all this. “Look fer me back whin ye see me comin’.”
He patted her on the back and started for the door. Mrs. Magraw paused to help Allan into his overcoat.
“You won’t be lettin’ nothin’ happen t’ him, Allan?” she asked, anxiously, forgetting his new title in the emotion of the moment.
“That I won’t,” he assured her.
“I’ve got a sort o’ feelin’ that there’s goin’ t’ be trouble, an’ that Reddy’ll be in it,” she added. “It come t’ me strong when I set there listenin’.”
“Perhaps there will be trouble, Mrs. Magraw,” said Allan. “Indeed, I’ll be surprised if there isn’t. But we’ll come through all right.”
“Oh, I hope so, sir!” she cried, and lighted him to the door.
She stood in the open doorway32 holding the lamp above her head as he and Reddy started together down the path to the gate. They had almost reached it, when Reddy suddenly paused, rubbed his forehead perplexedly, and then glanced around at the figure in the doorway.
“I’ve got t’ go back a minute,” he said, apologetically. “You go ahead. I’ll ketch up with you.”
Allan walked on slowly, then, at the gate, he looked around. Reddy was holding Mrs. Magraw in his arms, kissing her as tenderly as any lover. The quick moisture sprang to Allan’s eyes; he closed the gate behind him, and started across the yards; for Reddy’s house was perched on an embankment which had been left when the lower yards had been graded down to their present level. A minute later, he heard quick steps behind him and Reddy came running up.
“I jest had t’ go back,” he explained, a little shamefacedly. “I don’t know what it was—but somethin’ kind o’ took me by the elbow an’ steered33 me around. Mighty queer.”
They walked on together in silence to the freight-house. As soon as they approached it, they were challenged sharply, and stopped by one of the deputies. Stanley, attracted by the noise, came up a moment later and passed them through.
“Nobody can come through that line, day or night, unless I say so,” he explained. “I’m not going to take any chances.”
“Yes,” said Stanley. “I know him. He’s all right.”
“I’m glad you think so. I’m putting him on the inside to keep his eyes open. He’ll report to you, but you oughtn’t to be seen talking together too much. You’ll report to me, or send him on to me, when you can.”
“All right, Mr. West. I’d suggest that he comes along after while and asks the cook for a job. He’d better not make his first appearance with you and me.”
“That’s a good idea. You wait here, Reddy, till you’re sent for.”
“Right,” agreed Reddy, and sat down on the platform.
Stanley opened the door of the freight-house and led the way in. It was the first time Allan had seen it in its new incarnation, and it wasn’t exactly what one would call an attractive scene. Indeed, it was indescribably sordid35. Some of the men had gone to bed; others were sitting around the tables playing cards or listlessly turning the leaves of the illustrated36 papers. The gas lights overhead flared37 dimly through a haze38 of tobacco smoke. The odour of cooking still lingered in the air, with onions striking the high note, and at one end of the room, the cook was sullenly39 banging the tin dishes around, as he made a pretence40 of washing them.
“He won’t know Reddy,” said Stanley, in an aside. “He ain’t been in town long, an’ while he was here, he never stuck his nose outside that little joint41 where he worked. Hello, Sam,” he added, in a voice which everyone could hear. “It looks to me like you need some help.”
“Help!” snarled42 the cook. “No, I don’t need no help. That’s a mistake. I’m a wonder, I am. I kin cook three meals a day fer fifty men, wash th’ dishes, make the beds, an’ do all the other work without turnin’ a hair. I don’t need no help. I’m goin’ t’ quit,” he added, in another tone.
“There’s a feller outside askin’ fer a job, an’ I just happened to think of you,” said Stanley, and strode to the door. “Here, you,” he called to Reddy. “Step in here a minute. Here he is, Sam. What do you think of him?”
“He ain’t no prize beauty,” said the cook, looking Reddy over critically; “but he looks like he could work. Anybody’s better’n nobody. I’ll try him,” and he led Reddy away and set him to work with the dishes. It was all Allan could do to keep his face straight, as he saw Reddy, with evident repugnance43, tie a piece of burlap around his waist for an apron44 and pick up a dish-cloth.
Stanley led the way to one of the groups around the tables.
“Boys,” he said, in a voice which made all within hearing look up, “this is Mr. West, the chief dispatcher for this division. He’s in complete charge of affairs here at Wadsworth, and he’ll see that you get a square deal.”
As Allan looked down into the faces gazing up at him, his heart failed him for an instant. How could any good work be done with such material? But he shook the thought away.
“I’ll have your details ready to-morrow morning,” he said, “and we’ll see that you are properly taken care of. We are going to fight this thing through to a finish, and we rely on your help to break this strike, for which there wasn’t the shadow of excuse. I don’t believe there’ll be any trouble, but we’ll take every precaution and see that you are thoroughly45 protected. And when the strike is over, a permanent position will be open to every one of you who wants it and who has made good. I hope that will mean all of you.”
There was a little feeble applause at this, but most of his listeners knew, deep down in their hearts, that they would not make good, that they were unfit to hold a permanent position anywhere.
“If you want anything,” Allan added, “ask for it. If you’re not comfortable, say so. Be loyal to the road and the road will be loyal to you. Good night.”
But as he left the place and walked slowly homeward, the futility46 of his appeal sickened him. Why should they be loyal to the road—what incentive47 was there? How could those weak and hopeless and degraded creatures be loyal to anything, except their own desperate needs? They had taken the job offered them for the money there was in it; or, perhaps, for the excitement which might follow. They would be careless and incompetent—it would be a tremendous task to get any results from them at all. He had never before appreciated how difficult it would be. For the railroad was a machine infinitely48 complicated, infinitely delicate. At noon on the morrow, scores of smooth and nicely-fitting parts would be removed, to be replaced by rough and ill-fitting ones. Who could expect the machine to work smoothly—or, indeed, to work at all,—under such circumstances?
点击
收听单词发音
收听单词发音 |
1
dingy
|
|
| adj.昏暗的，肮脏的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
2
inadequate
|
|
| adj.(for,to)不充足的，不适当的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
3
complexity
|
|
| n.复杂(性)，复杂的事物 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
4
appalling
|
|
| adj.骇人听闻的，令人震惊的，可怕的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
5
economizes
|
|
| n.节省，减少开支( economize的名词复数 )v.节省，减少开支( economize的第三人称单数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
6
penetrates
|
|
| v.穿过( penetrate的第三人称单数 )；刺入；了解；渗透 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
7
cavern
|
|
| n.洞穴，大山洞 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
8
enumeration
|
|
| n.计数，列举；细目；详表；点查 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
9
awe
|
|
| n.敬畏，惊惧；vt.使敬畏，使惊惧 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
10
abutting
|
|
| adj.邻接的v.（与…）邻接( abut的现在分词 )；（与…）毗连；接触；倚靠 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
11
hustled
|
|
| 催促（hustle的过去式与过去分词形式） | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
12
depot
|
|
| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
13
strenuous
|
|
| adj.奋发的，使劲的；紧张的；热烈的，狂热的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
14
brawn
|
|
| n.体力 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
15
transact
|
|
| v.处理；做交易；谈判 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
16
intercourse
|
|
| n.性交；交流，交往，交际 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
17
kin
|
|
| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
18
mitigate
|
|
| vt.（使）减轻，（使）缓和 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
19
softening
|
|
| 变软，软化 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
20
rubicund
|
|
| adj.(脸色)红润的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
21
superintendent
|
|
| n.监督人，主管，总监；(英国)警务长 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
22
mighty
|
|
| adj.强有力的；巨大的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
23
promptly
|
|
| adv.及时地，敏捷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
24
veneration
|
|
| n.尊敬，崇拜 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
25
insanity
|
|
| n.疯狂，精神错乱；极端的愚蠢，荒唐 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
26
sitting-room
|
|
| n.（BrE）客厅，起居室 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
27
promotion
|
|
| n.提升，晋级；促销，宣传 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
28
herd
|
|
| n.兽群，牧群；vt.使集中，把…赶在一起 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
29
pitchers
|
|
| 大水罐( pitcher的名词复数 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
30
banished
|
|
| v.放逐，驱逐( banish的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
31
accomplished
|
|
| adj.有才艺的；有造诣的；达到了的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
32
doorway
|
|
| n.门口，(喻)入门；门路，途径 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
33
steered
|
|
| v.驾驶( steer的过去式和过去分词 )；操纵；控制；引导 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
34
heartily
|
|
| adv.衷心地，诚恳地，十分，很 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
35
sordid
|
|
| adj.肮脏的，不干净的，卑鄙的，暗淡的 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
36
illustrated
|
|
| adj. 有插图的，列举的 动词illustrate的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
37
Flared
|
|
| adj. 端部张开的, 爆发的, 加宽的, 漏斗式的 动词flare的过去式和过去分词 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
38
haze
|
|
| n.霾，烟雾；懵懂，迷糊；vi.(over)变模糊 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
39
sullenly
|
|
| 不高兴地，绷着脸，忧郁地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
40
pretence
|
|
| n.假装，作假；借口，口实；虚伪；虚饰 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
41
joint
|
|
| adj.联合的，共同的；n.关节，接合处；v.连接，贴合 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
42
snarled
|
|
| v.（指狗）吠，嗥叫， （人）咆哮( snarl的过去式和过去分词 )；咆哮着说，厉声地说 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
43
repugnance
|
|
| n.嫌恶 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
44
apron
|
|
| n.围裙；工作裙 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
45
thoroughly
|
|
| adv.完全地，彻底地，十足地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
46
futility
|
|
| n.无用 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
47
incentive
|
|
| n.刺激；动力；鼓励；诱因；动机 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
|
48
infinitely
|
|
| adv.无限地，无穷地 | |
参考例句： |
|
|
|
| 欢迎访问英文小说网 |