By dint6 of hard work the upper masonry7 of the wall had been laid to the top course, ready for the coping, and there was now every prospect8 that the last stone would be lowered into place before the winter storms set in.
The shanty9—a temporary structure, good only for the life of the work—rested on a set of stringers laid on extra piles driven outside of the working-platform. When the submarine work lies miles from shore, a shanty is the only shelter for the men, its interior being arranged with sleeping-bunks10, with one end partitioned off for a kitchen and a storage-room. This last is filled with perishable11 property, extra blocks, Manila rope, portable forges, tools, shovels13, and barrows.
For this present sea-wall—an amphibious sort of structure, with one foot on land and the other in the water—the shanty was of light pine boards, roofed over, and made water-tight by tarred paper. The bunks had been omitted, for most of the men boarded in the village. In this way increased space for the storage of tools was gained, besides room for a desk containing the government working drawings and specifications14, pay-rolls, etc. In addition to its door, fastened at night with a padlock, and its one glass window, secured by a ten-penny nail, the shanty had a flap-window, hinged at the bottom. When this was propped15 up with a barrel stave it made a counter from which to pay the men, the paymaster standing16 inside.
Babcock was sitting on a keg of dock spikes17 inside this working shanty some days after he had discovered Tom's identity, watching his bookkeeper preparing the pay-roll, when a face was thrust through the square of the window. It was not a prepossessing face, rather pudgy and sleek18, with uncertain, drooping19 mouth, and eyes that always looked over one's head when he talked. It was the property of Mr. Peter Lathers20, the yardmaster of the depot21.
“When you're done payin' off maybe you'll step outside, sir,” he said, in a confiding22 tone. “I got a friend of mine who wants to know you. He's a stevedore23, and does the work to the fort. He's never done nothin' for you, but I told him next time you come down I'd fetch him over. Say, Dan!” beckoning24 with his head over his shoulder; then, turning to Babcock,—“I make you acquainted, sir, with Mr. Daniel McGaw.”
Two faces now filled the window—Lathers's and that of a red-headed man in a straw hat.
“All right. I'll attend to you in a moment. Glad to see you, Mr. McGaw,” said Babcock, rising from the keg, and looking over his bookkeeper's shoulder.
Lathers's friend proved to be a short, big-boned, square-shouldered Irishman, about forty years of age, dressed in a once black broadcloth suit with frayed25 buttonholes, the lapels and vest covered with grease-spots. Around his collar, which had done service for several days, was twisted a red tie decorated with a glass pin. His face was spattered with blue powder-marks, as if from some quarry26 explosion. A lump of a mustache dyed dark brown concealed27 his upper lip, making all the more conspicuous28 the bushy, sandy-colored eyebrows29 that shaded a pair of treacherous30 eyes. His mouth was coarse and filled with teeth half worn off, like those of an old horse. When he smiled these opened slowly like a vise. Whatever of humor played about this opening lost its life instantly when these jaws32 clicked together again.
The hands were big and strong, wrinkled and seamed, their rough backs spotted33 like a toad's, the wrists covered with long spidery hairs.
Babcock noticed particularly his low, flat forehead when he removed his hat, and the dry, red hair growing close to the eyebrows.
“I wuz a-sp'akin' to me fri'nd Mister Lathers about doin' yer wurruk,” began McGaw, resting one foot on a pile of barrow-planks, his elbow on his knee. “I does all the haulin' to the foort. Surgint Duffy knows me. I wuz along here las' week, an' see ye wuz put back fer stone. If I'd had the job, I'd had her unloaded two days befoore.”
“You're dead right, Dan,” said Lathers, with an expression of disgust. “This woman business ain't no good, nohow. She ought to be over her tubs.”
“She does her work, though,” Babcock said, beginning to see the drift of things.
“Oh, I don't be sayin' she don't. She's a dacint woman, anough; but thim b'ys as is a-runnin' her carts is raisin34' h—ll all the toime.”
“And then look at the teams,” chimed in Lathers, with a jerk of his thumb toward the dock—“a lot of staggering horse-car wrecks35 you couldn't sell to a glue-factory. That big gray she had a-hoistin' is blind of an eye and sprung so forrard he can't hardly stand.”
At this moment the refrain of a song from somewhere near the board fence came wafting36 through the air,—
“And he wiped up the floor wid McGeechy.”
McGaw turned his head in search of the singer, and not finding him, resumed his position.
“What are your rates per ton?” asked Babcock.
“Who's 'we'?”
“The Stevedores39' union.”
“But Mrs. Grogan is doing it for thirty,” said Babcock, looking straight into McGaw's eyes, and speaking slowly and deliberately40.
“Yis, I heared she wuz a-cuttin' rates; but she can't live at it. If I does it, it'll be done roight, an' no throuble.”
“I'll think it over,” said Babcock quietly, turning on his heel. The meanness of the whole affair offended him—two big, strong men vilifying41 a woman with no protector but her two hands. McGaw should never lift a shovel12 for him.
Again the song floated out; this time it seemed nearer,—
“. . . wid McGeechy—
McGeechy of the Fourth.”
“Dan McGaw's giv'n it to you straight,” said Lathers, stopping for a last word, his face thrust through the window again. “He's rigged for this business, and Grogan ain't in it with him. If she wants her work done right, she ought to send down something with a mustache.”
Here the song subsided42 in a prolonged chuckle43. McGaw turned, and caught sight of a boy's head, with its mop of black hair thrust through a crownless hat, leaning over a water cask. Lathers turned, too, and instantly lowered his voice. The head ducked out of sight. In the flash glance Babcock caught of the face, he recognized the boy Cully, Patsy's friend, and the driver of the Big Gray. It was evident to Babcock that Cully at that moment was bubbling over with fun. Indeed, this waif of the streets, sometimes called James Finnegan, was seldom known to be otherwise.
“Thet's the wurrst rat in the stables,” said McGaw, his face reddening with anger. “What kin3 ye do whin ye're a-buckin' ag'in' a lot uv divils loike him?”—speaking through the window to Babcock. “Come out uv thet,” he called to Cully, “or I'll bu'st yer jaw31, ye sneakin' rat!”
Cully came out, but not in obedience45 to McGaw or Lathers. Indeed, he paid no more attention to either of those distinguished46 diplomats47 than if they had been two cement-barrels standing on end. His face, too, had lost its irradiating smile; not a wrinkle or a pucker48 ruffled49 its calm surface. His clay-soiled hat was in his hand—a very dirty hand, by the way, with the torn cuff50 of his shirt hanging loosely over it. His trousers bagged everywhere—at knees, seat, and waist. On his stockingless feet were a pair of sun-baked, brick-colored shoes. His ankles were as dark as mahogany. His throat and chest were bare, the skin tanned to leather wherever the sun could work its way through the holes in his garments. From out of this combination of dust and rags shone a pair of piercing black eyes, snapping with fun.
“I come up fer de mont's pay,” he said coolly to Babcock, the corner of his eye glued to Lathers. “De ole woman said ye'd hev it ready.”
“Yep. Tom Grogan.”
“Can you sign the pay-roll?”
“You bet”—with an eye still out for Lathers.
“Where did you learn to write—at school?” asked Babcock, noting the boy's independence with undisguised pleasure.
“Naw. Patsy an' me studies nights. Pop Mullins teaches us—he's de ole woman's farder what she brung out from Ireland. He's a-livin' up ter de shebang; dey're all a-livin' dere—Jinnie an' de ole woman an' Patsy—all 'cept me an' Carl. I bunks in wid de Big Gray. Say, mister, ye'd oughter git onter Patsy—he's de little kid wid de crutch52. He's a corker, he is; reads po'try an' everythin'. Where'll I sign? Oh, I see; in dis'ere square hole right along-side de ole woman's name”—spreading his elbows, pen in hand, and affixing53 “James Finnegan” to the collection of autographs. The next moment he was running along the dock, the money envelope tight in his hand, sticking out his tongue at McGaw, and calling to Lathers as he disappeared through the door in the fence, “Somp'n wid a mustache, somp'n wid a mustache,” like a news-boy calling an extra. Then a stone grazed Lathers's ear.
Lathers sprang through the gate, but the boy was half way through the yard. It was this flea-like alertness that always saved Mr. Finnegan's scalp.
Once out of Lathers's reach, Cully bounded up the road like a careering letter X, with arms and legs in air. If there was any one thing that delighted the boy's soul, it was, to quote from his own picturesque54 vocabulary, “to set up a job on de ole woman.” Here was his chance. Before he reached the stable he had planned the whole scene, even to the exact intonation55 of Lathers's voice when he referred to the dearth56 of mustaches in the Grogan household. Within a few minutes of his arrival the details of the whole occurrence, word for word, with such picturesque additions as his own fertile imagination could invent, were common talk about the yard.
Lathers meanwhile had been called upon to direct a gang of laborers57 who were moving an enormous iron buoy58-float down the cinder-covered path to the dock. Two of the men walked beside the buoy, steadying it with their hands. Lathers was leaning against the board fence of the shop whittling59 a stick, while the others worked.
Suddenly there was an angry cry for Lathers, and every man stood still. So did the buoy and the moving truck.
With head up, eyes blazing, her silk hood60 pushed back from her face, as if to give her air, her gray ulster open to her waist, her right hand bare of a glove, came Tom Grogan, brushing the men out of her way.
“I knew I'd find you, Pete Lathers,” she said, facing him squarely; “why do ye want to be takin' the bread out of me children's mouths?”
The stick dropped from Lathers's hand: “Well, who said I did? What have I got to do with your”—
“You've got enough to do with 'em, you and your friend McGaw, to want 'em to starve. Have I ever hurt ye that ye should try an' sneak44 me business away from me? Ye know very well the fight I've made, standin' out on this dock, many a day an' night, in the cold an' wet, with nothin' between Tom's children an' the street but these two hands—an' yet ye'd slink in like a dog to get me”—
“Here, now, I ain't a-goin' to have no row,” said Lathers, twitching61 his shoulders. “It's against orders, an' I'll call the yard-watch, and throw you out if you make any fuss.”
“The yard-watch!” said Tom, with a look of supreme62 contempt. “I can handle any two of 'em, an' ye too, an' ye know it.” Her cheeks were aflame. She crowded Lathers so closely his slinking figure hugged the fence.
By this time the gang had abandoned the buoy, and were standing aghast, watching the fury of the Amazon.
“Now, see here, don't make a muss; the commandant'll be down here in a minute.”
“Let him come; he's the one I want to see. If he knew he had a man in his pay that would do as dirty a trick to a woman as ye've done to me, his name would be Dinnis. I'll see him meself this very day, and”—
Here Lathers interrupted with an angry gesture.
“Don't ye lift yer arm at me,” she blazes out, “or I'll break it at the wrist!”
Lathers's hand dropped. All the color was out of his face, his lip quivering.
“Whoever said I said a word against you, Mrs. Grogan, is a—liar63.” It was the last resort of a cowardly nature.
“Stop lyin' to me, Pete Lathers! If there's anythin' in this world I hate, it's a liar. Ye said it, and ye know ye said it. Ye want that drunken loafer Dan McGaw to get me work. Ye've been at it all summer, an' ye think I haven't watched ye; but I have. And ye say I don't pay full wages, and have got a lot of boys to do men's work, an' oughter be over me tubs. Now let me tell ye”—Lathers shrank back, cowering64 before her—“if ever I hear ye openin' yer head about me, or me teams, or me work, I'll make ye swallow every tooth in yer head. Send down somethin' with a mustache, will I? There's not a man in the yard that's a match for me, an' ye know it. Let one of 'em try that.”
Her uplifted fist, tight-clenched, shot past Lathers's ear. A quick blow, a plank2 knocked clear of its fastenings, and a flood of daylight broke in behind Lathers's head!
“Now, the next time I come, Pete Lathers,” she said firmly, “I'll miss the plank and take yer face.”
Then she turned, and stalked out of the yard.
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收听单词发音
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1
grooved
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| v.沟( groove的过去式和过去分词 )；槽；老一套；（某种）音乐节奏 | |
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plank
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| n.板条，木板，政策要点，政纲条目 | |
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kin
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| n.家族，亲属，血缘关系；adj.亲属关系的，同类的 | |
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cargoes
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| n.（船或飞机装载的）货物( cargo的名词复数 )；大量，重负 | |
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leakage
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| n.漏，泄漏；泄漏物；漏出量 | |
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dint
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| n.由于，靠；凹坑 | |
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masonry
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| n.砖土建筑；砖石 | |
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prospect
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| n.前景，前途；景色，视野 | |
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shanty
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| n.小屋，棚屋；船工号子 | |
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bunks
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| n.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的名词复数 )；空话，废话v.（车、船等倚壁而设的）铺位( bunk的第三人称单数 )；空话，废话 | |
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11
perishable
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| adj.（尤指食物）易腐的，易坏的 | |
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shovel
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| n.铁锨，铲子，一铲之量；v.铲，铲出 | |
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shovels
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| n.铲子( shovel的名词复数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份v.铲子( shovel的第三人称单数 )；锹；推土机、挖土机等的)铲；铲形部份 | |
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14
specifications
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| n.规格；载明；详述；（产品等的）说明书；说明书( specification的名词复数 )；详细的计划书；载明；详述 | |
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15
propped
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| 支撑，支持，维持( prop的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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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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spikes
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| n.穗( spike的名词复数 )；跑鞋；（防滑）鞋钉；尖状物v.加烈酒于( spike的第三人称单数 )；偷偷地给某人的饮料加入（更多）酒精（ 或药物）；把尖状物钉入；打乱某人的计划 | |
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sleek
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| adj.光滑的，井然有序的；v.使光滑，梳拢 | |
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drooping
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| adj. 下垂的，无力的 动词droop的现在分词 | |
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lathers
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| n.肥皂泡( lather的名词复数 )；紧张；激动；（马的）汗沫v.（指肥皂）形成泡沫( lather的第三人称单数 )；用皂沫覆盖；狠狠地打 | |
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21
depot
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| n.仓库，储藏处；公共汽车站；火车站 | |
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22
confiding
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| adj.相信人的，易于相信的v.吐露（秘密，心事等）( confide的现在分词 )；（向某人）吐露（隐私、秘密等） | |
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23
stevedore
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| n.码头工人；v.装载货物 | |
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beckoning
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| adj.引诱人的，令人心动的v.（用头或手的动作）示意，召唤( beckon的现在分词 ) | |
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25
frayed
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| adj.磨损的v.（使布、绳等）磨损，磨破( fray的过去式和过去分词 ) | |
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26
quarry
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| n.采石场；v.采石；费力地找 | |
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concealed
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| a.隐藏的，隐蔽的 | |
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conspicuous
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| adj.明眼的，惹人注目的；炫耀的，摆阔气的 | |
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eyebrows
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| 眉毛( eyebrow的名词复数 ) | |
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treacherous
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| adj.不可靠的，有暗藏的危险的；adj.背叛的，背信弃义的 | |
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jaw
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| n.颚，颌，说教，流言蜚语；v.喋喋不休，教训 | |
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jaws
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| n.口部；嘴 | |
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spotted
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| adj.有斑点的，斑纹的，弄污了的 | |
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raisin
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| n.葡萄干 | |
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35
wrecks
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| n.沉船( wreck的名词复数 )；（事故中）遭严重毁坏的汽车（或飞机等）；（身体或精神上）受到严重损伤的人；状况非常糟糕的车辆（或建筑物等）v.毁坏[毁灭]某物( wreck的第三人称单数 )；使（船舶）失事，使遇难，使下沉 | |
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36
wafting
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| v.吹送，飘送，（使）浮动( waft的现在分词 ) | |
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37
deferring
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| v.拖延，延缓，推迟( defer的现在分词 )；服从某人的意愿，遵从 | |
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38
confirmation
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| n.证实，确认，批准 | |
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stevedores
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| n.码头装卸工人，搬运工( stevedore的名词复数 ) | |
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40
deliberately
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| adv.审慎地；蓄意地；故意地 | |
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41
vilifying
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| v.中伤，诽谤( vilify的现在分词 ) | |
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42
subsided
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| v.（土地）下陷（因在地下采矿）( subside的过去式和过去分词 )；减弱；下降至较低或正常水平；一下子坐在椅子等上 | |
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43
chuckle
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| vi.／n.轻声笑，咯咯笑 | |
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44
sneak
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| vt.潜行(隐藏,填石缝)；偷偷摸摸做；n.潜行；adj.暗中进行 | |
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obedience
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| n.服从，顺从 | |
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46
distinguished
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| adj.卓越的，杰出的，著名的 | |
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47
diplomats
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| n.外交官( diplomat的名词复数 )；有手腕的人，善于交际的人 | |
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48
pucker
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| v.撅起，使起皱；n.（衣服上的）皱纹，褶子 | |
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49
ruffled
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| adj. 有褶饰边的, 起皱的 动词ruffle的过去式和过去分词 | |
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50
cuff
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| n.袖口；手铐；护腕；vt.用手铐铐；上袖口 | |
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51
shuffling
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| adj. 慢慢移动的, 滑移的 动词shuffle的现在分词形式 | |
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52
crutch
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| n.T字形拐杖；支持，依靠，精神支柱 | |
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53
affixing
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| v.附加( affix的现在分词 )；粘贴；加以；盖（印章） | |
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picturesque
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| adj.美丽如画的，（语言）生动的，绘声绘色的 | |
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55
intonation
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| n.语调，声调；发声 | |
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56
dearth
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| n.缺乏，粮食不足，饥谨 | |
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57
laborers
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| n.体力劳动者，工人( laborer的名词复数 )；（熟练工人的）辅助工 | |
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58
buoy
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| n.浮标；救生圈；v.支持，鼓励 | |
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59
whittling
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| v.切，削（木头），使逐渐变小( whittle的现在分词 ) | |
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60
hood
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| n.头巾，兜帽，覆盖；v.罩上，以头巾覆盖 | |
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61
twitching
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| n.颤搐 | |
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62
supreme
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| adj.极度的，最重要的；至高的，最高的 | |
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liar
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| n.说谎的人 | |
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cowering
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| v.畏缩，抖缩( cower的现在分词 ) | |
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