Santa Rosa High School - Echo Yearbook (Santa Rosa, CA)

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THE PORCUPINE 3 0 ed a nasal voice near the railing, and the rest all peered through the darkness to remark the alien presence of a real Yankee. “Look at those poor creatures doing the work of a steam derrick, and not complaining about it, either, and see that slave driver up yonder with that club, driving them like a lot of mules,” continued the indie- nant nasal voice; and a well articulated finger pointed accusingly at the mild, jolly-looking mate, who did, in- deed, have a club. It was a chalk nge. As, for the mo- ment, no one answered it, the challenger elanced about with rising pride and triumph, as one who has utterly confounded his enemies by finding them without a ready answer. Then a quiet voice spoke: “Yes, they do have to drive them some down here,” it said slowly. “But it is the only way to get them to work. And it is best, both for themselves and for us, that they should work, isn’t it?” And there was a pause for the answer that was not made, . “Besides,” continued the deliberate voice, “if we haven’t found out the uses of machinery down here yet, it is to the negro’s advantage after all. This boat wouldn’t be carrying a pay-roll of forty negroes at $2.50 per day and board if they had a steam hoist on board to do the loading. If they have to stand a little driving, they do have work and get good pay.” Perhaps this ar- gument was not born of the deepest knowledge of econ- omics, but it rang true as the honest belief of a moder ate thoughtful man, and was spoken with decent hu- mility. It surely could not have been that the dogmatic Yankee lacked for an answer. Doubtless he was but pausing for a moment to collect his thunder. But the hesitation was fatal, for, meanwhile, the drummer “oot the floor.” “That’s so,” he cackled. “I remember last fall T was out to see Murphy—you know Murphy of Chi- cago?” he asserted rather than asked. Nobody knew Murphy of Chicago, or if he did, he did not see fit to own it. “Well, anyway,” pursued the drummer unabashed, “I was out to see Murphy at Joliet last fall: he was super- intending the enlargement of a sewage canal beyond ti:e

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THE PORCUPINE ‘ the freight office and warehouses lounge negroes in lazy comfort, picturesque and unwashed, and enviable in their oblivion of the passage of time and its opportuni- ties. Beyond, the bumpy cobblestone levee siopes steep- ly down some fifty yards to the water's edge, where are moored the great steamboats, huge paddle-wheelers. Small wonder that the worn-out ‘traveler is delighted to find this part of the world at least fifty years behind the average of American progress. Quite natural that he should be impelled to embark upon Mark Twain’s own river—and does. “Shell most likely get away at 5:30 or thereabouts,” said the genial ticket agent, when asked about his time schedule. It was already after 5 o'clock. yet boxes and barrels were piled high on the deck, while from time to time a mule and dump-cart would come sliding and c¢lat- tering down the cobblestone levee and add its load to the pile on the landing. The sun dropped suddenly behind that ghostly rim of buildings that stood so stark at the top of the tevee. At once a great clamor arose in the city beyond and came hurtling over the barrier. One might have thought the fiery ball had dropped squarely in the midst of the city, and that one heard the shrieks of its seared and mangled citizens. But it was the factory whistles marking 6 o'clock. And still the mule carts came rumbling down with their loads and the negro roustabouts slouched back and forth in pairs from the heap of merchandise to the boat, carrying crates and boxes, like ants. slipping and reeling under their un- wieldly burdens. Tor all the loading and unloading is done by negro-power. Of course, it is a slow process, for’ only a small foree can use a gang plank at once. But no- body worries. The seraphie calm of officers and crew is contagious. If the boat does not start at 5:30, why, “thereabouts” suits everyb ody quite as well. The shadows deepen till the varigit-d raiment of the rousté morons is Silhouetted as darkly as their faces against the grayish stones of the levee. “W ell, Pll swan,” tw ang-

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4 THE PORCUPINE controlling works, and he told me a great yarn—-Mur-: phy did.” Jt would be tedicus to follow the digressions that prefaced and interlined this great yarn of Murphys. But when at Jast it had got its telling, it was not with- out its point. Briefly, it was the story of the Irishman who had been working on the canal and who re-appeared, rather late and battered, one Monday forencon only to find that he had been supplanted by a steam shovel. lie watched. it for a time, as the great steel jaws bit inte tie clay, closed with a snap, and creaked slowly upward with a whole cart-load of earth in its grip. Then ie shook a grimy fist at the steel usurper. “Yez can dv the work of a dozen min, ye blitherin’ spalpeen; av coorse, it’s aisy for yez to take the bread out of the mouths of : score of honest Irishmen! But yez can’t vote!” he yelle¢ triumphantly, “nor vez can’t get dhrunk,” he added, as his voice softened in tender memory and his little retreat- ing jaw that had been set with such comical ferocity, re- lapsed and hung limp—a fatuous blob. Just then the bell clanged, the engine coughed thickiy and the rich amber water ran in ripples of mud up the levee as the yreat hulk backed and turned and headed down streati. She nosed her way among the endless turnings of this most contorted of rivers. She fel he way over shoals where one could feel the jar and grind of her paddles on the sand. very few miles she swung around and moored, nosing up stream, like a great fish at rest in the current. And always the loading and wnload- ing was of absorbing interest. She moored at Cairo to take on coal. it being election day, one of the negroes in the coal barge which came along side, was simptn- ously dressed as eefitted so auspicious a day. THis patent leathers cleamcd; his eray-brown suit was neat and nat- ty, bis cellar was tall and white—and the cecal was soft coal He hesitated. The mate—he of the club—ordered him te go to work or to get out of the way. The extra rates for heaving coal were alluring. He was obviously torn by dissention. But he went to work—though gin-