— Like that sword with the big middle on Mecca cigarettes.
That clipped the plumes of a long ship steaming beneath it. Gulls, beaked faces ugly as their flight was graceful, wheeled through the wide air on sickle wings. A tug on the other side pecked spryly at a stolid barge. Yoked at length to its sluggish mate, it puffed briskly out into the river, gathered momentum.
— Makes the fat one make a mustache when he goes.
The sunlit rhythmic spray sprouted up before the blunt bow of the barge, hung whitely, lapsed.
— Bricks on it. Bet a whole house.
A cloud sheared the sunlight from the wharf; his back felt cooler; the wind sharpened … Smokestacks on the other bank darkened slowly, fluting filmy distance with iron-grey shadow.
— Like forks they stick up. Like for — Fu— Sh! Was good today. Look other place.
His gaze shifted to the left. As the cloud began to pass, a long slim lath of sunlight burned silver on the water—
— Gee, didn’t see before!
Widened to a swath, a lane, widened.
— Like a ship just went.
A plain, flawless, sheer as foil to the serried margins. His eyes dazzled.
— Fire on the water. White.
His lids grew heavy.
— In the water she said. White. Brighter than day. Whiter. And He was.
Minutes passed while he stared. The brilliance was hypnotic. He could not take his eyes away. His spirit yielded, melted into light. In the molten sheen memories and objects overlapped. Smokestacks fused to palings flickering in silence by. Pale laths grew grey, turned dusky, contracted and in the swimming dimness, he saw sparse teeth that gnawed upon a lip; and ladders on the ground turned into hasty fingers pressing on a thigh and again smokestacks. Straight in air they stood a moment, only to fall on silvered cardboard coruscating brilliance. And he heard the rubbing on a wash-board and the splashing suds, smelled again the acrid soap and a voice speaking words that opened like the bands of a burnished silver accordion — Brighter than day … Brighter … Sin melted into light …
Uh chug chug, ug chug!
— Cucka cucka … Is a chicken …
Uh chug ug ch ch ch — Tew weet!
— No … Can’t be …
Ug chug, ug chug, ug — TEW WEET!
What! He started as if out of a dream. A tremor shook him from head to foot so violently that his ears whirred and rang. His eyes bulged, staring. What? Water! Down below! He flung himself back against the mooring post.
Directly in front of him, with only a short space of water intervening, a black tugboat churned its way. In a doorway amidships, his back to the bright brass engine, stood a man in his undershirt, bare, outstretched arms gripping the doorpost on either side. He whistled again, shrill from mobile lips, grinned, spat, and “Wake up, Kid!” his sudden, amused hail rolled over the water, “’fore you throw a belly-w’opper!” Then he poked his dark-blond head inside as though he were speaking to someone behind him.
Terrified, rigid, David watched the tug wallow by. Ages seemed to pass, but in spite of himself he could not move. Twice he sighed and with such depth as though he had been weeping for hours. And with the suddenness of snapping fetters the spell broke, and he stared about him too unsteady to rise. What was it he had seen? He couldn’t tell now. It was as though he had seen it in another world, a world that once left could not be recalled. All that he knew about it was that it had been complete and dazzling.
VIII
HE HAD sat there a long time. Steadiness slowly returned to him. The planks of the dock stiffened and grew firm. He rose.
— Funny little lights all gone. Like when you squeeze too hard on a toilet. Better go home.
He approached the end of the dock. Voices, as he neared the cobble, made him look over to the left. Three boys, coming from Eighth Street, climbed nimbly over the snarled chaos of the open junk heap. At the sight of David, they hallooed, leapt down to level ground and raced toward him. All wore caps cocked sideways and sweater, red and green, smeared, torn at the breast and elbows. Two were taller than David, wiry, blue-eyed, upturned noses freckled. The other, dark-skinned and runty, looked older than the rest and carried in his hand a sword made of a thin strip of metal that looked like sheet zinc and a long bolt wired across it near one end. One glance at their tough, hostile faces, smirched by the grime and rust of the junk heap and screwed up into malicious watchfulness was enough. David’s eyes darted about for an opening. There was none — except back to the dock. Trapped, he stood still, his frightened gaze wavering from one menacing face to another.
“Wadda yiz doin’ on ’at dock?” growled the runty one side-mouthed. The sunlight glanced along the sheet zinc sword as he pointed.
“N — Nottin. I was’n’ doin’ nott’n. Dey was boats dere.”
“How old ’re youse?”
“I’m — I’m eight already.”
“Well, w’y aintchjis in school?”
“Cause id’d, cause—” But something warned him. “Cause I— cause my brudder’s god measles.”
“Dot’s a lodda bullshit, Pedey.” This from the freckled one. “He’s onna hook.”
“Yea. Tell ’at tuh Sweeney.”
“We oughta take yiz tuh a cop,” added the second freckled one.
“Betcha de cop’ll tell yuh,” urged David, hoping for no better fate.
“Nah! We know,” Pedey scornfully rejected the idea. “W’ere d’yiz live?”
“Dere.” He could see the very windows of his own floor. “Dat house on nint’ stritt. My mudders gonna look oud righd away.”
Pedey squinted in the direction David pointed.
“Dat’s a sheeney block, Pedey,” prompted the second freckled lieutenant with ominous eagerness.
“Yea. Yer a Jew aintchiz?”
“No I ain’!” he protested hotly. “I ain’ nod a Jew!”
“Only sheenies live in dat block!” countered Pedey narrowly.
“I’m a Hungarian. My mudder ’n’ fodder’s Hungarian. We’re de janitors.”
“W’y wuz yuh lookin upstairs?”
“Cause my mudder wuz washin’ de floors.”
“Talk Hungarian,” challenged the first lieutenant.
“Sure like dis. Abashishishabababyo tomama wawa. Like dot.”
“Aa, yuh full o’ shit!” sneered the second lieutenant angrily. “C’mom, Pedey, let’s give ’im ’is lumps.”
“Yea!” the other freckled one urged. “C’mon. He ain’ w’ite. Yi! Yi! Yi!” He wagged his palms under his chin.
“Naa!” Pedey nudged his neighbor sharply. “He’s awri’. Led ’im alone.” And to David. “Got any dough? We’ll match yiz pennies.”
“No, I ain’ god nodd’n. Id’s all in mine house.” He would have been glad to have the two pennies now if only they would let him go.
“Let’s see yer pockets.”
“Hea, I’ll show yuh,” he hastily turned them inside out. “Nod even in duh watch pocket.”
“C’mon, Pedey,” urged first lieutenant, advancing.
“Lemme go!” David whimpered, shrinking back.
“Naa! Let ’im alone,” ordered Pedey. “He’s awright. Let’s show ’im de magic. Waddayah say?”
“Yea! At’s right!” The other two seconded him. “C’mon! Yuh wanna see some magic?”
“No-no. I don’ wanna.”
“Yuh don’!” Pedey’s voice rose fiercely. The others strained at the leash.
“W — wa’ kind o’ magic?”
“C’mon, we’ll show yiz, won’ we, Weasel? Over dis way.” His sword pointed across the junk-heap toward Tenth Street. “Where de car tracks is.”