The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature) (38 page)

BOOK: The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)
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FortyFour looked back at me over his shoulder and said,

"Yes, that is it."

These things were dreadfully uncanny, but interesting. I went
musing away, saying to myself, "he must have read my thoughts
when I was minded to ask him if I might tell what happened last
night." He called back from far up the stairs,

"I did!"

Breakfast was nearing a finish. The master had been silent all
through it. There was something on his mind; all could see it.
When he looked like that, it meant that he was putting the sections
of an important and perhaps risky resolution together, and bracing
up to pull it off and stand by it. Conversation had died out;
everybody was curious, everybody was waiting for the outcome.

FortyFour was putting a log on the fire. The master called him.
The general curiosity rose higher still, now. The boy came and
stood respectfully before the master, who said,

"FortyFour, I have noticed-Forty-Four is correct, I believe?-"

The boy inclined his head and added gravely,

"New Series 864,962."

"We will not go into that," said the master with delicacy, "that is
your affair and I conceive that into it charity forbids us to pry. I
have noticed, as I was saying, that you are diligent and willing, and
have borne a hard lot these several weeks with exemplary patience.
There is much to your credit, nothing to your discredit."

The boy bent his head respectfully, the master glanced down the
table, noted the displeasure along the line, then went on.

"You have earned friends, and it is not your fault that you
haven't them. You haven't one in the castle, except Katrina. It is
not fair. I am going to be your friend myself."

The boy's eyes glowed with happiness, Maria and her mother
tossed their heads and sniffed, but there was no other applause.
The master continued.

"You deserve promotion, and you shall have it. I Jere and now I
raise you to the honorable rank of apprentice to the printer's art,
which is the noblest and the most puissant of all arts, and destined
in the ages to come to promote the others and preserve them."

And he rose and solemnly laid his hand upon the lad's shoulder
like a king delivering the accolade. Every man jumped to his feet
excited and affronted, to protest against this outrage, this admission
of a pauper and tramp without name or family to the gate leading
to the proud privileges and distinctions and immunities of their
great order; but the master's temper was up, and he said he would
turn adrift any man that opened his mouth; and he commanded
them to sit down, and they obeyed, grumbling, and pretty nearly
strangled with wrath. Then the master sat down himself, and
began to question the new dignitary.

"This is one of the learned professions. Have you studied the
Latin, FortyFour?"

"No, sir."

Everybody laughed, but not aloud.

"The Greek?"

"No, sir.

Another clandestine laugh; and this same attention greeted all
the answers, one after the other. But the boy did not blush, nor look
confused or embarrassed; on the contrary he looked provokingly
contented and happy and innocent. I was ashamed of him, and felt
for him; and that showed me that I was liking him very deeply.

"The Hebrew?"

"No, sir."

"Any of the sciences?-the mathematics? astrology? astronomy?
chemistry? medicine? geography?"

As each in turn was mentioned, the youth shook his untroubled
head and answered "No, sir," and at the end said,

"None of them, sir."

The amusement of the herd was almost irrepressible by this time;
and on his side the master's annoyance had risen very nearly to the
bursting point. He put in a moment or two crowding it down, then
asked,

"Have you ever studied anything?"

"No, sir," replied the boy, as innocently and idiotically as ever.

The master's project stood defeated all along the line! It was a
critical moment. Everybody's mouth flew open to let go a trium phant shout; but the master, choking with rage, rose to the emergency, and it was his voice that got the innings:

"By the splendor of God I'll teach you myself!"

It was just grand! But it was a mistake. It was all I could do to
keep from raising a hurrah for the generous old chief. But I held in.
From the apprentices' table in the corner I could see every face, and
I knew the master had made a mistake. I knew those men. They
could stand a good deal, but the master had played the limit, as the
saying is, and I knew it. He had struck at their order, the apple of
their eye, their pride, the darling of their hearts, their dearest
possession, their nobility-as they ranked it and regarded it-and
had degraded it. They would not forgive that. They would seek
revenge, and find it. This thing that we had witnessed, and which
had had the form and aspect of a comedy, was a tragedy. It was a
turning point. There would be consequences. In ordinary cases
where there was matter for contention and dispute, there had
always been chatter and noise and jaw, and a general row; but now
the faces were black and ugly, and not a word was said. It was an
omen.

We three humble ones sat at our small table staring; and thinking thoughts. Barty looked pale and sick. Ernest searched my face
with his evil eyes, and said,

"I caught you talking with the Jail-Bird on the stairs. You
needn't try to lie out of it, I saw you."

All the blood seemed to sink out of my veins, and a cold terror
crept through me. In my heart I cursed the luck that had brought
upon me that exposure. What should I do? What could I do? What
could I say in my defence? I could think of nothing; I had no
words, I was dumb-and that creature's merciless eyes still boring
into me. He said,

"Say-you are that animal's friend. Now deny it if you can."

I was in a bad scrape. He would tell the men, and I should be an
outcast, and they would make my life a misery to me. I was afraid
enough of the men, and wished there was a way out, but I saw
there was none, and that if I did not want to complete my disaster I
must pluck up some heart and not let this brute put me under his feet. I wasn't afraid of him, at any rate; even my timidity had its
limitations. So I pulled myself together and said,

"It's a lie. I did talk with him, and I'll do it again if I want to, but
that's no proof that I'm his friend."

"Oho, so you don't deny it! That's enough. I wouldn't be in your
shoes for a good deal. When the men find it out you'll catch it, I can
tell you that."

That distressed Barty, and he begged Ernest not to tell on me,
and tried his best to persuade him; but it was of no use. He said he
would tell if he died for it.

"Well, then," I said, "go ahead and do it, it's just like your sort,
anyway. Who cares?"

"Oh, you don't care, don't you? Well, we'll see if you won't. And
I'll tell them you're his friend, too."

If that should happen! The terror of it roused me up, and I said,

"Take that back, or I'll stick this dirk into you!"

He was badly scared, but pretended he wasn't, and laughed a
sickly laugh and said he was only funning. That ended the discussion, for just then the master rose to go, and we had to rise, too, and
look to our etiquette. I was sufficiently depressed and unhappy, for
I knew there was sorrow in store for me. Still, there was one
comfort: I should not be charged with being poor 44's friend, I
hoped and believed; so matters were not quite so calamitous for me
as they might have been.

We filed up to the printing rooms in the usual order of precedence, I following after the last man, Ernest following after me, and
Barty after him. Then came 44.

FortyFour would have to do his studying after hours. During
hours he would now fill Barty's former place and put in a good deal
of his time in drudgery and dirty work; and snatch such chances as
he could, in the intervals, to learn the first steps of the divine
art-composition, distribution and the like.

Certain ceremonies were FortyFour's due when as an accredited
apprentice he crossed the printing-shop's threshold for the first
time. He should have been invested with a dagger, for he was now privileged to bear minor arms-foretaste and reminder of the future still prouder day when as a journeyman he would take the
rank of a gentleman and be entitled to wear a sword. And a red
chevron should have been placed upon his left sleeve to certify to
the world his honorable new dignity of printer's apprentice. These
courtesies were denied him, and omitted. He entered unaccosted
and unwelcomed.

The youngest apprentice should now have taken him in charge
and begun to instruct him in the rudimentary duties of his position.
Honest little Barty was commencing this service, but Katzenyammer the foreman stopped him, and said roughly,

"Get to your case!"

So 44 was left standing alone in the middle of the place. He
looked about him wistfully, mutely appealing to all faces but mine,
but no one noticed him, no one glanced in his direction, or seemed
aware that he was there. In the corner old Binks was bowed over a
proof-slip; Katzenyammer was bending over the imposingstone
making up a form; Ernest, with ink-ball and coarse brush was
proving a galley; I was overrunning a page of Haas's to correct an
out; Fischer, with paste-pot and brown linen, was new-covering the
tympan; Moses was setting type, pulling down his guide for every
line, weaving right and left, bobbing over his case with every type
he picked up, fetching the box-partition a wipe with it as he
brought it away, making two false motions before he put it in the
stick and a third one with a click on his rule, justifying like a rail
fence, spacing like an old witch's teeth-hair-spaces and m-quads
turn about-just a living allegory of falseness and pretence from
his green silk eve-shade down to his lifting and sinking heels,
making show and bustle enough for 3,000 an hour, yet never good
for 600 on a fat take and double-leaded at that. It was inscrutable
that God would endure a comp like that, and lightning so cheap.

It was pitiful to see that friendless boy standing there forlorn in
that hostile stillness. I did wish somebody would relent and say a
kind word and tell him something to do. But it could not happen;
they were all waiting to see trouble come to him, all expecting it, all
tremulously alert for it, all knowing it was preparing for him, and wondering whence it would come, and in what form, and who
would invent the occasion. Presently they knew. Katzenyammer
had placed his pages, separated them with reglets, removed the
strings from around them, arranged his bearers; the chase was on,
the sheep-foot was in his hand, he was ready to lock up. He slowly
turned his head and fixed an inquiring scowl upon the boy. He
stood so, several seconds, then he stormed out,

'Well, are you going to fetch me some quoins, or not?"

Cruel! How could he know what the strange word meant? He
begged for the needed information with his eloquent eyes-the
men were watching and exulting-Katzenyammer began to move
toward him with his big hand spread for cuffing-ah, my God, I
mustn't venture to speak, was there no way to save him? Then I
had a lightning thought; would he gather it from my brain?"FortyFour, that's the quoin-box, under the stone table!"

In an instant he had it out and on the imposingstone! He was
saved. Katzenyammer and everybody looked amazed. And deeply
disappointed.

For a while Katzenyammer seemed to be puzzling over it and
trying to understand it; then he turned slowly to his work and
selected some quoins and drove them home. The form was ready.
He set that inquiring gaze upon the boy again. FortyFour was
watching with all his eyes, but it wasn't any use; how was he to
guess what was wanted of him? Katzenyammer's face began to
work, and he spat dry a couple of times, spitefully; then he shouted,

"Am I to do it-or who?"

I was ready this time. I said to myself, "FortyFour, raise it
carefully on its edge, get it under your right arm, carry it to that
machine yonder, which is the press, and lay it gently down flat on
that stone, which is called the bed of the press."

He went tranquilly to work, and did the whole thing as right as
nails-did it like an old hand! It was just astonishing. There wasn't
another untaught and unpractised person in all Europe who could
have carried that great and delicate feat half-way through without
piing the form. I was so carried away that I wanted to shout. But I
held in.

Of course the thing happened, now, that was to be expected.
The men took FortyFour for an old apprentice, a refugee flying
from a hard master. They could not ask him, as to that, custom
prohibiting it; but they could ask him other questions which could
be awkward. They could be depended upon to do that. The men all
left their work and gathered around him, and their ugly looks
promised trouble. They looked him over silently-arranging their
game, no doubt-he standing in the midst, waiting, with his eyes
cast down. I was dreadfully sorry for him. I knew what was coming,
and I saw no possibility of his getting out of the hole he was in.
The very first question would be unanswerable, and quite out of
range of help from me. Presently that sneering Moses Haas asked
it:

"So you are an experienced apprentice to this art, and yet don't
know the Latin!"

There it was! I knew it. But-oh, well, the boy was just an
ever-fresh and competent mystery! Ile raised his innocent eyes and
placidly replied,

"Who-I? Why yes, I know it."

They gazed at him puzzled-stupefied, as you might say. Then
Katzenyammer said,

"Then what did you tell the master that lie for?"

"I? I didn't know I told him a lie; I didn't mean to."

"Didn't mean to? Idiot! he asked you if you knew the Latin, and
you said no."

"Oh, no," said the youth, earnestly, it was quite different. He
asked me if I had studied it-meaning in a school or with a teacher,
as I judged. Of course I said no, for I had only picked it up-from
books-by myself."

BOOK: The Mysterious Stranger Manuscripts (Literature)
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