Harbor (9781101565681) Read Online Free Page B

things. There came a strike, and once in the darkness of a cold November twilight I saw some dockers rush on a “scab,” I heard the dull sickening thumps as they beat him.
    And one day Sam took me to the door of his father’s saloon and pointed out a man in there who had an admiring circle around him.
    â€œHe’s going to jump from the Bridge on a bet,” Sam whispered. I saw the man go. For what seemed to me hours I watched the Great Bridge up there in the sky, with its crawling processions of trolleys and wagons, its whole moving armies of little black men. Suddenly one of these tiny specks shot out and down, I saw it fall below the roofs, I felt Sam’s hand like ice in mine. And this was not good for a boy of ten.
    But the sight that ended it all for me was not a man, but a woman. It happened one chilly March afternoon when I fell from a dock into water covered with grease and foam, came up spluttering and terrified, was quickly hauled to the dock by a man and then hustled by Sam and the gang to his home, to have my clothes dried and so not get caught by my mother. Scolded by Sam’s mother and given something fiery hot to drink, stripped naked and wrapped in an old flannel night-gown and told to sit by the stove in the kitchen—I was then left alone with Sam. And then Sam with a curious light in his eyes took me to a door which he opened just a crack. Through the crack he showed me a small back room full of round iron tables. And at one of these a man, stoker or sailor I don’t know which, his face flushed red under dirt and hair, held in his lap a big fat girl half dressed, giggling and queer, quite drunk. And then while Sam whispered on and on about the shuttered rooms upstairs, I felt a rush of such sickening fear and loathing that I wanted to scream—but I turned too faint.
    I remember awakening on the floor, Sam’s mother furiously slapping Sam, then dressing me quickly, gripping me tight by both my arms and saying,
    â€œYou tell a word of this to your pa and we’ll come up and kill you!”
    That night at home I did not sleep. I lay in my bed and shivered and burned. My first long exciting adventure was over. Ended were all the thrills, the wild fun. It was a spree I had had with the harbor, from the time I was seven until I was ten. It had taken me at seven, a plump sturdy little boy, and at ten it had left me wiry, thin, with quick, nervous movements and often dark shadows under my eyes. And it left a deep scar on my early life. For over all the adventures and over my whole childhood loomed this last thing I had seen, hideous, disgusting. For years after that, when I saw or even thought of the harbor, I felt the taste of foul, greasy water in my mouth and in my soul.
    So ended the first lesson.

CHAPTER III
    The next morning as I started for school, suddenly in the hallway I thought of what my mother had told me—always when I was frightened to shut my eyes and speak to Jesus and he would be sure to make everything right. I had not spoken to Jesus of late except to say “Holy Christ!” like Sam. But now, so sickened by Sam and his docks, my head throbbing from the sleepless night, on the impulse I kneeled quickly with my face on a chair right there in the hall. But I found I was too ashamed to begin.
    â€œIf he would only ask me,” I thought. Why didn’t he ask me, “What’s the matter, little son?” or say, “Now, you must tell me and then you’ll feel better”—as my mother always did. But Jesus did not help me out. I could not even feel him near me. “I will never tell anyone,” I thought. And I felt myself horribly alone.
    Help came from a quite different source.
    â€œThere he is! Look!”
    I heard Sue’s eager whisper. Jumping quickly to my feet, I saw in the library doorway Sue’s dark little figure and her mocking, dancing eyes as she pointed me out to our father, her chum, whose face