sister carrie

Chapter 82 (3)

Chapter 45 Strange Changes of the Poor (3)
They lined up in a messy, ragged queue.Now, one can see several main features in contrast.There was a man with wooden legs in the procession, and all of them wore hats pulled down.This gang looked worse than the junk in the basement on Hurst Street.The creases of the trousers are crooked, and the hips are frayed,

The jacket is also worn and faded.In the light of the shop some faces were shriveled and dead gray;A few onlookers thought that a group of people were discussing something here, so they were attracted here. Later, more and more people gathered, and soon turned into a crowd of pushing, shoving and arguing.Someone in the ranks began to speak.

"Be quiet!" cried the Captain. "Ah, gentlemen, these people have no beds. They need a place to sleep tonight. They can't lie in the street. I'll get a corner for each of them." Two cents. Who will give me that money?"

No one answered.

"Mate, then we'll have to wait here until someone agrees to pay. A dime a person isn't much."

"It's fifteen cents here," cried a young man, staring ahead with nervous eyes. "That's all I can offer."

"Okay. Now I have a quarter. Stand up." Grabbing a man by the shoulders, the captain told him to stand up a little and left him standing there alone.

Then he stood back up again, took his original position, and spoke again.

"I've got three cents left now. Anyway, these people must have a bed. One, two, three, four, five, six, seven, eight, nine, ten, eleven, twelve. For another nine cents, another person can have a bed to sleep in, and he can have a good night's sleep tonight. I want to see and take care of it myself. Who is willing to give nine cents?"

One of the bystanders, a middle-aged man, gave him a nickel.

"Okay, I've got eight cents. Another four cents will put this man in a bed. Please, gentlemen. We're going to slow down tonight. Every single one of you will have a bed." Get a good night's sleep."

"Here," said a bystander, putting a coin in the palm of his hand.

"Okay," the captain said after looking at the coins, "then two people have the bed money, and the extra five cents can be given to the next one. Who will give me another seven cents?"

"I will," said a voice.

Hurstwood came off Sixth Street tonight, and happened to go east across Twenty-sixth Street, toward Third Street.He was very depressed, and was so hungry that he thought he was going to die, he was really listless and dejected.How was he going to see Carrie now? The play wasn't until eleven o'clock.If she had come by carriage, she would have returned by carriage.He had to stop her under extremely difficult circumstances.At worst, he's hungry and tired, and at best, he'll have to wait a whole day because he's not in the mood to try it out tonight.He had nothing to eat and no bed to sleep in.

As he approached Broadway, he noticed the Captain rounding up the bums.But he thought it was the work of a preacher or a counterfeit drug dealer in the street, so he decided to ignore it and go straight on.Crossing the street, however, toward Madison Park, he noticed the group whose berths had been taken up, a few paces from the main part of the crowd.Under the illumination of nearby lights, he recognized some people of the same type as himself—these characters, he had seen on the street and in the dormitory, people who were as destitute of mind and body as himself .He thought to himself, not knowing what the ending would be, so he turned around.

The captain was still making a brief appeal.He was surprised and relieved to hear the repeated words: "These people must have a bed." Standing in front of him was the row of unfortunate people who did not have a bed.He saw one of the newcomers sidle past without a word, taking the last place in the line, and he resolved to do so.What's the use of half-heartedness? He's tired tonight.This is at least a simple and clear solution to the problem.Maybe, luck will be better tomorrow.

Standing behind him were some people whose beds had already been filled, and the air seemed to relax a little.Now that the uneasiness had been removed, he felt more comfortable hearing them talk, some of which were more gregarious.Politics, religion, the state of the government, the news in some sensational newspaper, and notorious events in various parts of the world can find spokesmen and listeners.The hoarse voice was trying to tell some strange things.The answers are all superfluous and irrelevant.

Some squinted, some stared viciously, some dulled their bull-eyed eyes, and these were too dull, or too tired, to talk.

Just standing is enough.Hurstwood felt more and more tired from standing, and he felt that he would soon fall down, restlessly changing legs and standing hard.Finally it was his turn, and the person in front of him got the money, and walked into the ranks who were lucky enough to get the bed money.Now he is No.1, and the captain is talking for him.

"Two cents, gentlemen—one and two cents will get this man a bed. If he had room, he wouldn't have to stand here in the cold."

Hurstwood swallowed what rose from his throat, a coward made of hunger and weakness.

"Here," said a stranger, handing the captain the money.The captain laid a benevolent hand on the ex-manager's shoulder.

"Get in that line," he said.

Once in that team, he breathed more easily.He felt that with such a good person here, the world is not too bad.Others seemed to feel the same way he did.

"He's a great man, the Captain, isn't he?" said the man in front--a small, sad, cornered creature who seemed now to be teased and taken care of by fate.

"Yes," said Hurstwood indifferently.

"Hey! There's a lot of people behind," said a man at the head of his party, leaning forward and looking back at those for whom the captain was appealing.

"Yeah, there must have been more than a hundred people tonight," said another.

"You see the cab pull up. Some gentlemen in evening clothes took out a banknote and handed it to the captain. The captain thanked him briefly and turned to his party. When the white shirt chest Everyone stretched their necks as the treasure in front of them gleamed, and then the carriage drove away. Even the audience was dumbfounded."

"That's nine people for tonight," said the captain, nodding to the row of nine next to him, "and line up over there. Well, there are only seven left now, at a quarter each. "

Money came slowly.After a while, the crowd thinned out, and there were only a few left.On the fifth street, except for the occasional cab or pedestrians, there was no one to see.There were only a few passers-by on Broadway, and occasionally a stranger passed by, saw the small group, took out a coin, and walked straight on without looking at it.

Still the captain held on tenaciously, and he went on with his story, speaking slowly, in few words, and in a tone of confidence, as if it were impossible for him to fail.

"Please, I can't stay in the open all night. These people are tired and cold. Give me four cents."

Then for a while, he didn't say a word.Some people donated money to him, and for every one or two cents accumulated, he would pick out a person and tell him to stand in another line.Then he walked up and down as before, keeping his eyes on the ground.

The theater is gone.The red advertisement went out, and the clock struck eleven.After another half hour, only the last two people remained.

"Please," he called out to some eccentric onlookers, "eighty cents will get us all settled tonight. Eighty cents, and I've got six. Somebody gave me the money. You see, today's I've got to get to Brooklyn tonight. I gotta get these folks got a bed, an eighty cents, before I go."

No one responded.He walked up and down, looking down for several minutes, and murmured now and then, "Eighteen cents." As if this small amount would delay the long-awaited climax more than the previous money.Hurstwood braced himself against a groan because he was one of the long procession, but he was so weak.

Then a lady in a cloak and a long skirt came down the fifth street, accompanied by people.Hurstwood gazed feebly, her figure reminding him of Carrie in New World.He also remembered the time when he himself was with his wife in the same way.

While he was gazing, she turned, and seeing the odd company, she sent her male companion along.He came over with a banknote in his finger, very handsome.

"Here you are," he said.

"Thank you," said the captain, turning to the last two left to ask for help. "We've got some money right now for tomorrow night," he went on.

He let the two people line up, and then walked and counted all the way to the front of the line.

"130 five," he announced, "well, guys, line up and turn right. It won't take long, take your time."

He reached the head of the line, and called, "Go on." Hurstwood moved on with the line.Pass through the fifth street, through the winding path, pass Madison Square, go east through No.20 Sanjie Street, and walk down the third street. This long snake-like team moves forward like this.It was late at night, and passers-by, loafers, stopped to stare at the procession as it passed, and the policemen gossiping on some corners stared indifferently or nodded at the captain, whom they knew.From the third street to the eighth street, they walked very wearily.On Eighth Street there was a boarding house, apparently closed for the night at this time.However, it was also expected that these people would go.

They stood out in the dark, while the captain went inside to negotiate.Then the gate opened, and they were invited out, hearing only "don't worry" all the way.

Someone at the front of the line assigns rooms so that keys can be handed out in time.Hurstwood scrambled up the rattling stairs, looked back, and saw the captain watching.The last of the line was also under the care of his fraternal mind.Then he wrapped his cloak around him and walked out into the dark night.

"I can't bear it," said Hurstwood.His legs ached as he sat down on the bunk in the unlit cell allotted to him. "I must eat something, or I'm going to die."

(End of this chapter)