Unto a Good Land (11 page)

Now Robert began to contemplate their situation, and he became fearful: here they walked about, entirely alone, in a town where everyone was a stranger, every tenth man a criminal; they were unable to say anything to anybody, they understood nothing that was said to them. If danger should overtake them they could not even call for help. Perhaps the Finn had exaggerated, probably only one man in twenty was a robber, but even so it was unpleasant. They did not know what robbers in America looked like, but they had seen many faces behind which an evil and treacherous soul might be hidden. He suggested that they return to their company. He did not wish to scare Arvid, he only said the others might be apprehensive if they stayed away too long. He was not afraid for his own sake, nor did he think Arvid had anything to fear; still—

“I have my nickel watch,” Arvid reminded him, and began nervously fingering the broad, yellow brass chain which hung on his vest.

When Arvid left home his father had given him this watch, his dearest and most expensive possession. The father had said that the watch must be considered his paternal inheritance, given to him at this time because of his emigration. It was of fine nickel and had cost twelve riksdaler with the chain. During the forty years Arvid’s father had worked as cotter under the manor of Kråkesjö, it was all he had been able to save as inheritance for his son. The cotter would not have given Arvid his inheritance in cash, even if he had had any; he would have been afraid Arvid might spend it on snuff and brännvin. But a watch he would always keep with him: he had admonished his son never to sell or lose his Swedish inheritance.

Now Arvid was walking about in the dangerous town of New York, surrounded by robbers and swindlers, and he was carrying the watch with him.

“Put it in your pants pocket,” advised Robert. For it occurred to him that the shining brass chain on Arvid’s stomach might attract robbers. Arvid unhooked the chain and put the watch in his trousers pocket.

So they continued their walk up the street. Arvid wanted to go farther, he was happy today; Robert had never seen him so excited and gay. Arvid said that as long as he was back on land again, he wanted really to use his legs, he wanted to walk all the way to the end of the street. Now that they were in America and could go anywhere dry shod, he was willing to walk the whole way to where they would settle, however far it was. He was sure he could walk there, because he was one of those who could use their legs.

A blond girl in a red dress held out a basket of fruit to the boys—black-red, juicy cherries. Robert shook his head; in vain he tried to remember a suitable English word from his language book; he would have liked to tell the girl (even if it was not true) that he had just bought a bagful of cherries.

But the girl remained standing in front of them, smiling at them in a kind, friendly way, and they each took a handful from her basket, as though wishing to taste her cherries before deciding whether to buy. The girl said something that sounded rather kind and went on her way. The boys were a little ashamed of their daring, and Robert regretted that he hadn’t at least said “Thank you.” That much he knew in English.

The juicy cherries were a treat to their dry mouths, and they ate them eagerly and spit the stones about them. A fat woman offered big loaves of wheat bread for sale. The loaves had been made in the form of rings, and she carried them hanging around her arms; the boys thought this quite ingenious: to use one’s arms for bread poles. The smell of the fresh bread aroused their appetites—they felt hungry.

A black-haired, ragged little man, carrying a hand organ on his back and holding a monkey on a leash, stopped them with a stream of words. But they understood not a single syllable issuing from his mouth. Neither one of them had ever seen a monkey before. The creature went on two legs like themselves, and it had a hairless behind, red and swollen like an open wound. Arvid, in great disbelief, stared the monkey in the face and said with great emotion: The creature looked impudent—it was inexcusable of an animal to resemble a human being so closely.

A cart loaded with fruit turned over in the gutter with much noise and commotion. Large, yellow, and bigger than apples, the fruit rolled into the horse and swine spillings of the street and was allowed to remain there. The driver turned his vehicle back on its wheels and drove on, his cart empty. None of the walkers paid any attention to the accident, none made the slightest move to pick up the fruit. Only Arvid and Robert remained standing there a few minutes, but they were afraid to gather any of the beautiful unknown fruit.

The sight of so many edibles increased their hunger. But they had no money, they must wait to eat from their own food baskets—Robert would have to eat with Karl Oskar’s family, Arvid with Danjel Andreasson’s.

The boys would not admit to each other that their stomachs were calling loudly for food, nor would they disclose their astonishment during this walk. They had never imagined that all these things existed in the world, these tall houses, these shops with inscriptions over their entrances in glittering letters, all these valuable things that were hung or spread in the store windows: glittering jewelry, gold, silver, precious stones, watches, rings, chains of gold and silver; expensive materials, cloth of gold and of silver, linen, wool, silk, velvet in quantities that could have covered this whole, long street; the expensive, gilded carriages, the light-footed, agile horses in glittering harnesses; all the things with names and uses they did not know, which they could only look at, admire, and guess about.

Before they recovered from one surprise, another even more amazing met their eyes. Two tall men in striped green and white coats and trousers, each carrying an upright pole with a placard on its upper end:
See the Anaconda! See the Serpent Charmer! See the Great Boa Constrictor! Five Cents!
The men stopped at the corner, calling loudly, and Robert tried to interpret their message. From his book he recognized the word
boa constrictor.
And in an open place near by he espied a reddish tent with the same inscription; then he understood what it meant and explained to Arvid: Over there in the tent one could see the boa constrictor, the most dangerous snake in the world, it might be as long as forty feet; it cost only five cents to go in and see. . . .

The boa constrictor? ruminated Arvid. Hadn’t Robert once read to him from his
History of Nature
about this peculiar crawling reptile? He seemed to remember: “. . . the boa constrictor can be dangerous because of its great size and strength; it has happened that it has crushed and swallowed people; it grows to be almost forty feet long. . . .”

“If only we each had five cents!”

It hurt Robert that they must miss this opportunity to look at the world’s greatest snake; a snake forty feet long that swallowed people, to be seen for only five cents. . . .

“Is the beast bound?” asked Arvid.

He looked toward the tent where a crowd of people thronged; he was not as anxious as his comrade to see the man-eating snake. From the very beginning, he had been worried about American reptiles; in his nightmares, America had been filled with hungry, hissing snakes, a veritable snake nest. He now wondered if it could be healthy to look at a snake that big. For himself, a snake five, six feet long would satisfy him, he wasn’t so interested in snakes. Perhaps they could see part of the snake, maybe its tail; that might be cheaper.

Robert said it didn’t matter, since they had not even one cent. He suddenly felt depressed and disappointed. All day long he had seen beautiful things for sale, and it had bothered him that he was unable to buy anything; now he actually suffered from having to leave the tent with the large snake.

Truly, on this, the most beautiful street in the world, there was everything one might strive for in this world, all one’s heart might desire was here. And Robert felt that the street would have been still more beautiful had he a purse full of American money.

But the very thing he lacked, he had come here to earn; he had come to America to be free—but in order to be free, he must first become rich.

—4—

The humming in Robert’s left ear suddenly began again, so intensely that it drowned all the street sounds. It was an echo from that box on the ear received at home in Sweden many years ago; it was a reminder of the servant law—”suitable chastisement.” This his master had given him for laziness in service. The windy weather at sea had worsened his ear injury, and again a yellow, malodorous fluid ran from it. The humming sound, which sometimes increased to a roar, was constantly and depressingly with him. It had followed him from Sweden to North America, he could not lose it. Something was hurt inside the ear.

The hum carried with it a memory from his farm-hand service, a memory which troubled him day and night, year after year. Because of this memory he did not wish to serve as farm hand ever again; he did not wish ever to have a master; he wanted to be free.

He had tried to reconcile himself to the throbbing, had tried to make friends with the sound; it was a voice in there, wishing him well, comforting him when something went wrong, warning him when danger lurked. He had noticed that the hum began when something was happening to him, or about to happen; perhaps his friend in the left ear now wanted to comfort him because he had been unable to see the forty-foot, man-eating snake. . . .

Suddenly the sound was drowned by a loud outcry from Arvid: “Look, Robert! Look over there!”

“What is it?”

“A corpse! Look!”

“What?”

“Can’t you see—there’s a man lying there dead!”

They crossed the street and saw a man lying stretched in the gutter on his back; he was half naked, dressed only in a pair of worn-out pants which hardly covered his legs. His upper body was black with dirt or paint, but the skin of his face was white; he was not a Negro. His eyes were closed and his mouth open, disclosing toothless gums.

Arvid bent down over the body, bustling and excited: “He’s dead! The man is dead! Stone dead!”

Robert, too, looked closer. The man’s chest did not heave, his mouth did not move, he did not seem to breathe. With his foot he lightly touched the foot of the man; he did not move. “I believe he
is
dead.”

Here a corpse was lying in the street, and people went by without noticing. Living people passed by the dead man, stepped over his outstretched legs, but no one paid any attention, no one noticed he was dead. It was extraordinary. Robert thought this must be because of the great size of the population: there were so many living people jostling each other here in America that no one could pay attention to the dead ones, who were so silent and so still. He and Arvid noticed the body because they were new in the country and not accustomed to seeing corpses lying about.

They looked at each other in consternation: What should they do? Perhaps they should report their discovery, but how? They probably ought to call the police, but they did not know where the police were, and they could not talk, could not ask. Robert remembered there was a sentence in his language book to be used when calling the police. But that was in case of attack on the street. . . . And he couldn’t remember the sentence, anyway, either in Swedish or English. And the police might wonder about them, perhaps even suspect them of having murdered the man lying there in the gutter. It seemed he had only lately died, the corpse was still warm, and it didn’t smell as might be expected in this heat. Perhaps the man had been murdered. Yes, Robert was sure they would be suspected. And they couldn’t say a word, couldn’t deny it, couldn’t defend themselves. No doubt they would be put in prison for murder. It would be best to forget about calling the police. They might stop a passer-by and point to the corpse, and then let him fetch the police. But in that case they might be held as witnesses. It would be best just to walk on and let the dead one lie there.

“We’ll pretend we haven’t seen anything,” advised Robert. “Come, let’s go!”

But Arvid remained leaning over the man. He had made a new discovery: “He smells of brännvin!”

He poked the man carefully between his naked ribs: “Yes, I believe he is—”

Next moment Arvid jumped backward with an outcry: the man had suddenly risen from the ground like a Jack-in-the-box. In front of them stood a heavy-set giant, a living man, swiftly resurrected and roaring furiously.

At this threatening apparition Robert crouched in fright, and Arvid, in his backward jump, almost landed on top of him. They grasped each other’s hands.

Arvid never had time to finish his sentence that he thought the man was alive. Nor did he need to: they could see it—they heard it; they saw and heard a furious, insulted giant standing on his feet, though a little shaky. He took a few steps toward them, and from his enormous, red throat flowed a stream of words which the boys did not think were of a friendly kind. A few words Robert thought he understood:
Damned
—
thieves
—
bastards.
Never in their lives had they heard such terrifying sounds come from a human throat.

The passers-by stopped in the street, people began to gather around them, attracted by the resurrected one’s roaring. The boys held each other’s hands as they backed away. The man so suddenly sprung from the ground spurted spit and fury, he bent forward as though ready to spring at them; something gleamed in his right hand, it flashed in the sun.