‘Earthquake insurance, that’s what they calls it! A whole lot of good it’ll do ’em when the anger of the Lord smokes out the city like you would a hornet’s nest and he picks it up and shakes it like a cat shakes a rat… Earthquake insurance!’
Joe and Skinny wished that the man with whiskers like a bottle-cleaner who stood over their campfire mumbling and shouting would go away. They didn’t know whether he was talking to them or to himself. They pretended he wasnt there and went on nervously preparing to grill a piece of ham on a gridiron made of an old umbrellaframe. Below them beyond a sulphurgreen lace of budding trees was the Hudson going silver with evening and the white palisade of apartmenthouses of upper Manhattan.
‘Dont say nutten,’ whispered Joe, making a swift cranking motion in the region of his ear. ‘He’s nuts.’
Skinny had gooseflesh down the back, he felt his lips getting cold, he wanted to run.
‘That ham?’ Suddenly the man addressed them in a purring benevolent voice.
‘Yessir,’ said Joe shakily after a pause.
‘Dont you know that the Lord God forbad his chillun to eat the flesh of swine?’ His voice went to its singsong mumbling and shouting. ‘Gabriel, Brother Gabriel… is it all right for these kids to eat ham?… Sure. The angel Gabriel, he’s a good frien o mine see, he said it’s all right this once if you dont do it no more… Look out brother you’ll burn it.’ Skinny had got to his feet. ‘Sit down brother. I wont hurt you. I understand kids. We like kids me an the Lord God… Scared of me cause I’m a tramp aint you? Well lemme tell you somethin, dont you never be afraid of a tramp. Tramps wont hurt ye, they’re good people. The Lord God was a tramp when he lived on earth. My buddy the angel Gabriel says he’s been a tramp many a time… Look I got some fried chicken an old colored woman gave me… O Lordy me!’ groaning he sat down on a rock beside the two boys.
‘We was goin to play injuns, but now I guess we’ll play tramps,’ said Joe warming up a little. The tramp brought a newspaper package out of the formless pocket of his weathergreened coat and began unwrapping it carefully. A good smell began to come from the sizzling ham. Skinny sat down again, still keeping as far away as he could without missing anything. The tramp divided up his chicken and they began to eat together.
‘Gabriel old scout will you just look at that?’ The tramp started his singsong shouting that made the boys feel scared again. It was beginning to get dark. The tramp was shouting with his mouth full pointing with a drumstick towards the flickering checkerboard of lights going on up Riverside Drive. ‘Juss set here a minute an look at her Gabriel… Look at the old bitch if you’ll pardon the expression. Earthquake insurance, gosh they need it dont they? Do you know how long God took to destroy the tower of Babel, folks? Seven minutes. Do you know how long the Lord God took to destroy Babylon and Nineveh? Seven minutes. There’s more wickedness in one block in New York City than there was in a square mile in Nineveh, and how long do you think the Lord God of Sabboath will take to destroy New York City an Brooklyn an the Bronx? Seven seconds. Seven seconds… Say kiddo what’s your name?’ He dropped into his low purring voice and made a pass at Joe with his drumstick.
‘Joseph Cameron Parker… We live in Union.’
‘An what’s yours?’
‘Antonio Camerone… de guys call me Skinny. Dis guy’s my cousin. His folks dey changed deir name to Parker, see?’
‘Changing your name wont do no good… they got all the aliases down in the judgment book… And verily I say unto you the Lord’s day is at hand… It was only yesterday that Gabriel says to me “Well Jonah, shall we let her rip?” an I says to him, “Gabriel ole scout think of the women and children an the little babies that dont know no better. If you shake it down with an earthquake an fire an brimstone from heaven they’ll all be killed same as the rich people an sinners,” and he says to me, “All right Jonah old horse, have it your own way… We wont foreclose on em for a week or two.”… But it’s terrible to think of, folks, the fire an brimstone an the earthquake an the tidal wave an the tall buildins crashing together.’
Joe suddenly slapped Skinny on the back. ‘You’re it,’ he said and ran off. Skinny followed him stumbling along the narrow path among the bushes. He caught up to him on the asphalt. ‘Jez, that guy’s nuts,’ he called.
‘Shut up cant ye?’ snapped Joe. He was peering back through the bushes. They could still see the thin smoke of their little fire against the sky. The tramp was out of sight. They could just hear his voice calling, ‘Gabriel, Gabriel.’ They ran on breathless towards the regularly spaced safe arclights and the street.
Jimmy Herf stepped out from in front of the truck; the mudguard just grazed the skirt of his raincoat. He stood a moment behind an L stanchion while the icicle thawed out of his spine. The door of a limousine suddenly opened in front of him and he heard a familiar voice that he couldnt place.
‘Jump in Meester ’Erf… Can I take you somewhere?’ As he stepped in mechanically he noticed that he was stepping into a Rolls-Royce.
The stout redfaced man in a derby hat was Congo. ‘Sit down Meester ’Erf… Very pleas’ to see you. Where were you going?’
‘I wasnt going anywhere in particular.’ ‘Come up to the house, I want to show you someting. Ow are you today?’
‘Oh fine; no I mean I’m in a rotten mess, but it’s all the same.’
‘Tomorrow maybe I go to jail… six mont’… but maybe not.’ Congo laughed in his throat and straightened carefully his artificial leg.
‘So they’ve nailed you at last, Congo?’
‘Conspiracy… But no more Congo Jake, Meester ’Erf. Call me Armand. I’m married now; Armand Duval, Park Avenue.’
‘How about the Marquis des Coulommiers?’
‘That’s just for the trade.’
‘So things look pretty good do they?’
Congo nodded. ‘If I go to Atlanta which I ’ope not, in six mont’ I come out of jail a millionaire… Meester ’Erf if you need money, juss say the word… I lend you tousand dollars. In five years even you pay it back. I know you.’
‘Thanks, it’s not exactly money I need, that’s the hell of it.’
‘How’s your wife?… She’s so beautiful.’
‘We’re getting a divorce… She served the papers on me this morning… That’s all I was waiting in this goddam town for.’
Congo bit his lips. Then he tapped Jimmy gently on the knee with his forefinger. ‘In a minute we’ll get to the ’ouse… I give you one very good drink.’… Yes wait,’ Congo shouted to the chauffeur as he walked with a stately limp, leaning on a goldknobbed cane, into the streaky marble hallway of the apartmenthouse. As they went up in the elevator he said, ‘Maybe you stay to dinner.’ ‘I’m afraid I cant tonight, Con… Armand.’
‘I have one very good cook… When I first come to New York maybe twenty years ago, there was a feller on the boat… This is the door, see A. D., Armand Duval. Him and me ran away togedder an always he say to me, “Armand you never make a success, too lazy, run after the leetle girls too much.… Now he’s my cook… first class chef, cordon bleu, eh? Life is one funny ting, Meester ’Erf.’
‘Gee this is fine,’ said Jimmy Herf leaning back in a highbacked Spanish chair in the blackwalnut library with a glass of old Bourbon in his hand. ‘Congo… I mean Armand, if I’d been God and had to decide who in this city should make a million dollars and who shouldnt I swear you’re the man I should have picked.’
‘Maybe by and by the misses come in. Very pretty I show you.’ He made curly motions with his fingers round his head. ‘Very much blond hair.’ Suddenly he frowned. ‘But Meester ’Erf, if dere is anyting any time I can do for you, money or like dat, you let me know eh? It’s ten years now you and me very good frien… One more drink?’