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Updated: May 27, 2025
"But the law's the law, and I'll just tell ye this much": he emphasized his statement by pointing the stick "ye're lucky t' 'scape a fine! Seein' ye're so short o' cash!" Most men, as Barber liked to boast, did not dare to give the longshoreman any of their "lip." But now he was careful to accept the ultimatum of the officer without a show of temper. "Guess I am," he assented. Clancy nodded.
"What y' got there?" he demanded. He flung his coat from him, to light upon the table, where it covered those other flowers which were of cotton. "R roses," faltered Cis, her voice scarcely audible. Now the longshoreman came to loom over them. "Where 'd y' git 'em?" he asked next, staring at the bouquet almost wildly. "You you remember the the Mr. Perkins?"
"Ye-e-e-es, sir," reluctantly; for young as he was, Johnnie realized that whatever his own feelings toward the longshoreman might be, they were no gauge of the feelings of the longshoreman toward him. However, dutifully he went to find the wash basin, and fill it; and he accepted from Mr. Perkins a most immaculate wash cloth, this one of those wonderful handkerchiefs which had colored borders.
The African magician was just another as wicked and cruel as the longshoreman. As for that Slave of the Ring, Johnnie considered him no more wonderful than Buckle. In fact, there was nothing impossible, or even improbable, about the story. It held him by its sheer reality. Its drama enthralled him, too.
A 'longshoreman, reeling home from deep potations, was conscious of it, and, turning round to the sea, snarled at it and said yah! in swaggering defiance. A young lad, wandering along the deserted street, heard it, began to tremble, and sat down on a block of stone beside the doorway of a baker's shop.
Face to face, with the roses between them, Cis and Johnnie stayed where they were, as if stricken into helplessness by the sight of the longshoreman, toward him turning their beseeching, anxious look. Each reached blindly to touch the other, for strength and sympathy. And the roses, lifted to the level of their lips, swayed to their hard breathing. Barber lumbered closer.
Eggy looks over the line, picks out a square-jawed, bull-headed, pie-faced Yon Yonson, with stupid, stary, skim-milk eyes, and leads him to the front. "A direct descendant of the old Vikings," says he, "a fellow countryman of the heroic Stefansson, of Amundsen. Just now he works as a longshoreman.
A collier familiar to every longshoreman in Belfast Lough, carrying on her usual trade this week, could hardly be suspected of carrying rifles when she returned next week ostensibly in the same line of business.
"Any bones broke?" He leaned to feel of the unwrapped part of Johnnie's hurt arm. The indifferent tone, the hated, ungentle touch, and the nearness of the longshoreman, all worked to unman Johnnie, who gave way again. He did not fear a whipping any longer. It was, as Mrs. Kukor might have put it, "somethink yet again."
On leaving the bakery, where his health, very much weakened by the lack of air and by bad food, did not permit him to remain any longer, he joined those vagabonds, those wanderers, whose melancholy companion he had been, and whose painter and poet he was to be. In their company, he traveled through Russia in every sense of the word, now as a longshoreman, now as a wood-chopper.
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