Our father was always proud of my brother. My brother developed quickly. Customers often mistook my brother for our father. Customers who came to the forge greeted my brother by our father's name. Our father's name is also my brother's name. My brother responded politely to the customers. He said that he was not the blacksmith. He was the blacksmith's striker. When the customers saw our father, they realized their mistake. They asked if my brother and our father were brothers. They could not believe that my brother was scarcely more than a child.
My brother did not expect to be blacksmith so soon. The first customers who came to the forge after our father died did not notice that our father was no longer the blacksmith. They saw my brother standing at the double doors of the forge. They were used to seeing two men at the double doors of the forge. They asked my brother what had happened to his striker. My brother said he needed to hire a striker. The customers suggested that he hire his son. My brother did not seem proud that I had been mistaken for his son. He did not respond to the customers.
2
The forge is on the hill. It has the highest elevation of any business in the town. Our house is behind the forge. Our house is smaller than the forge. There are two windows in the front of the house. You cannot see the bay from the windows. The windows look onto the back of the forge. There are boards nailed on either side of each window. It is as though the windows have shutters. The boards are not shutters. They have no hinges. Our mother nailed the boards alongside the windows for decoration. She liked decoration. I like decoration too. The boards alongside the windows are my favorite thing about the house. Our mother added decoration to the house, but she did not add decoration to the forge. The forge has not changed in any way since the time of our father's father. My brother tells me he will expand and modernize the forge. My brother is a wonderful blacksmith. As soon as he has a striker, he will expand and modernize the forge. I am my brother's only relative. It is best that I work as his striker.
My brother works all day and all night in the forge finishing the job our father could not finish. My brother's lips are dark. The skin beneath his eyes is dark. I sweep the floor and pump the bellows. I watch my brother work alone at the anvil. Sweat pours from my brother. He finishes our father's job. It is a feat to finish the job without our father, my brother alone, working all day and all night at the anvil. He will not be able to finish more jobs alone. The work is too hard without the help of a striker. My brother must hire a striker. It is best for a blacksmith to have a son for a striker. You do not have to pay a son wages. A son works to earn his name.
I want to work for my brother. He does not have to pay me wages. My brother and I live together in the house behind the forge. I do not know what I would do with wages. I could decorate the house with paper notes. The gray and pink paper notes are more appealing than the coins. The coins are nothing special. My brother could strike far finer coins. My brother would not allow me to decorate the house with wages. It is best that I work as his striker for no wages. The wages will be reinvested in the forge.
Finally my brother agrees that it is best. He calls me to the anvil. He hangs a leather apron from my neck. He folds my fingers around the handle of the sledge. I lift the sledge. It wobbles. The sledge wobbles but I hold it upright. I am officially my brother's striker. My brother takes the sledge from my hand. He says we should smoke the doctor's cigar in celebration. My brother had set the cigar to dry in the pritchel hole of the anvil. Now it is dry. You would never know the cigar had lain in the water on the floor of the forge. It catches fire just like a cigar. The doctor smoked his first cigar with our father. I am smoking my first cigar with my brother. The end of the cigar crumbles slightly on my lips and I lick my lips and spit like my brother. We go to the double doors of the forge and stand together looking down at the town. I cannot see the doctor's office, but I remember that the doctor's office is on a dead end street. His office is the same faded color as the other offices in town. It is hard to imagine that inside the doctor's office there is new equipment capable of reconstructing the last moments of a person's life.
Ships are moored in the bay. My brother points to the flags that fly from the gaffs. He tells me the flags are called “civil ensigns.” The ships are merchant ships from foreign countries. Foreigners are taking an interest in the town. More businesses in the town are thriving and my brother tells me that when a certain number of businesses thrive in a town, opinions of the town are revised. The town is considered a good risk for investors. Each townsperson benefits from investment in his town. My brother says that people in a prosperous town take pride in their work and that their work is held to a higher standard. My brother has not been blacksmith for very long, but his work can be held to the highest standard. He finished our father's final job alone. He has surpassed our father. My brother will not disappoint the foreigners. He deserves to be blacksmith in a prosperous town.
3
In the morning my brother wakes me. I follow him from the house to the forge. I face my brother across the anvil. I did not expect to be my brother's striker. When my brother taps with his hammer, I have to remind myself that I am his striker before I strike with the sledge. My brother is unhappy. I am too slow. I do not always strike where he has indicated. I am grateful that my brother does not have a new job to finish. My slowness would be much worse for my brother if a customer were waiting on my brother's work. My brother wants me to practice with the nail rods. My arms are tired. It takes me five strikes to head each nail. Time after time my brother throws my nails in the scrap pile. My brother calls me to the anvil. He holds the iron on the anvil. He taps. I look at the iron. The anvil is mounted too high. The grips on the tools are too wide. I strike blows where my brother taps. My brother says I can stop. A man has appeared at the double doors. It is the doctor. He carries a packet of papers. They must contain the findings from his new equipment. Our father has yielded such a thick packet of papers. I should not have expected anything less from our father. I try to see if my brother is proud of the papers our father yielded. My brother does not look at me. He is approaching the doctor at the double doors. The doctor gives the packet to my brother. My brother's fingers mark the white pages. He looks at the doctor. The doctor explains that our father had been suffering from a long illness. It is a blessing that our father's suffering is over. A sudden death is a wonderful thing when a man is suffering from a long illness. It is more tragic when a sick man dies slowly from a long illness, or when a healthy man dies suddenly. The doctor wants us to know this was not the case with our father. The doctor thinks my brother does not look well. He offers to run tests on my brother at his office. My brother does not like to leave the forge. He says no to the doctor. I would not have said no to the doctor. The doctor has taken an interest in my brother. My brother is big and strong but unwell. He is exactly what the doctor wants in a patient. My brother does not have time to be a patient. He is rude to the doctor. He throws the packet of papers on the hearth. The doctor's eyes shine as he watches the papers burn on the hearth. His mouth trembles. I am surprised that my brother is so rude. He has assumed responsibility for the forge too young. The responsibility is changing him. My brother turns his back on the doctor. I do not want to defy my brother. I turn my back on the doctor. When I look again the doctor is gone.