A VOICE IN THE DARK
At this place I remained several weeks, watching the smiling Spring,
which had already taken possession of the air and made the skies
blue--unloosing the icy fingers of Winter, which still held the earth
down under a thick cover of snow. What a glorious time of the year is
this! With the warm sun travelling through serene skies, the air clear
and fresh above you, which instils new blood in the body, making one
defiantly tramp the earth, kicking the snows aside in the scorn of
action. The cheeks glow with health, the lips smile, and there is no
careworn face seen, save they come out of the house of sickness of
death. And that lean spectre, called Hunger, has never been known to
appear in these parts. If it was for one moment supposed that such a
spectre possessed a house in this country, kind hearts would at once
storm the place with such an abundance of good things that the
spectre's victim would need to exert great care and power of will, if
he would not succumb to an overloaded stomach. This spectre is often
seen in the overcrowded cities of Europe, and one of its favourite
haunts is the Thames Embankment, in front of the fine hotels where
ambassadors and millionaires dine sumptuously. Where they sit or stand
at their windows watching the many lights of the city, and to see the
moon dipping her silver pitcher in the dark river, and they swear, by
Jove! it is worth seeing. But they cannot see this spectre of Hunger,
moving slowly, and sometimes painfully, from shadow to shadow,
shivering and anxious for the sun, for they have no other fire to sit
before, to make their dreams of the past pleasant.
I remained three weeks in this inexpensive hotel, and decided to
travel on the following Monday, although the snow was still deep in
Montreal, and would be yet deeper in the country. I had a small room
for sleeping purposes, at a cost of fifteen cents per night. There
were several others of the same kind, each divided one from the other
by a thin wooden partition, which was high enough for privacy, but did
not prevent curious lodgers from standing tip toe on their beds, and
peering into another's room. Going to bed early on Sunday night,
previous to continuing my journey on the following day, I was somewhat
startled on entering my room, to hear a gentle rap on the partition
which divided my room from the next. "Hallo!" I cried, "what do you
want?" The man's wants, it seemed, were private, for he seemed
frightened into silence at this loud tone of demand, which would most
certainly draw the attention of others. At last he cleared his throat
by a forced fit of coughing, and then whispered, in a low distinct
voice--"I want a match, if you can oblige me with one." Of course,
smoking was not allowed in the bed-rooms, but in this respect we were
nearly all breakers of the law. Taking a few matches from my pocket, I
threw them over the partition, and heard him feeling in the
semi-darkness, after hearing the sound of them falling. Then he gently
struck one, and, by its light, gathered in the others. In a moment or
two he addressed me in his natural voice, and, to my surprise, it
sounded familiar, and filled me with curiosity to see this man's face.
I encouraged him to talk--which he seemed determined to do--thinking a
word might reveal him to me, and the circumstances under which we had
met.
His voice in the dark puzzled me, and I could not for my life locate
it. A hundred scenes passed through my memory, some of them containing
a number of characters. In my fancy I made them all speak to me,
before dismissing them again to the dim regions from which they had
been summoned, but not one of their voices corresponded with this
voice heard in the dark. Above this voice I placed thin and thick
moustaches, black, grey, brown, red, and white; under this voice I put
heavy and light beards of various hues, and still, out of all my
material, failed to make a familiar face. Still sending Memory forth
in quest of the owner of this voice, and she, poor thing! bringing
forward smiling men and stern men, thin men and fat men, short men and
tall men, tame men and wild men, hairy men and bald men, dark men and
fair men--until she became so confused as to bring back the same
people the second time; still sending her forth on this vain quest, I
fell asleep.
It was a dreamless sleep; no sound broke its stillness, and no face
looked into its depths; and, when I awoke the next morning, this voice
seemed to be already in possession of my thoughts. I lay awake for
about ten minutes, and was just on the point of rising, thinking the
man had left his chamber, when I heard a stir coming from that
direction. He was now dressing. Following his example, but with more
haste, so as to be the first ready, I waited the unbolting of his
door, so that I might meet this man face to face. I unbolted my own
door, and opened it when I was but half dressed, but there was no
necessity for doing this, for my arms were in the sleeves of my coat
when his bolt was slipped back, and we simultaneously appeared, at the
same time wishing each other good morning. I recognised this man
without difficulty, but apparently had the advantage of him. To make
no mistake, I looked at his right hand, and saw the two fingers
missing, knowing him for a certainty to be Three Fingered Jack, who
had been a cattleman from Montreal, whom I had met in Glasgow when I
had gone there from Baltimore, three years previous to this. On that
occasion I had been in this man's company for only half an hour, and
since that time had heard thousands of voices, but was still positive
that I had heard this voice before.
We stood side by side washing, and preparing for breakfast, and,
although I remained a stranger to him, as far as former acquaintance
was concerned, I mentioned to him in confidence that I was going west
that very morning, after breakfast. "So was I," he said, "as far as
Winnipeg, but thought to wait until some of this snow cleared. Anyhow,
as a day or two makes little difference, we will, if you are
agreeable, start together this morning. I know the country well," he
continued, "between Montreal and Winnipeg, having travelled it a
number of times, and, I promise you, nothing shall be wanting on the
way."
This man had lost his two fingers at work in the cotton mills, some
ten years before, and ever since then had been living in idleness,
with the exception of two or three trips he had made as a cattleman.
Certainly he lived well on the kindness of these people, as any able
bodied man might do in this country, without being in any way
afflicted. Though he was going to Winnipeg, he was in no hurry, had no
object in view, and had not the least idea of where that town would
lead him, and he soon tired of one place.
Three Fingered Jack was a slow traveller for, as he with some emotion
said--"It broke his heart to hurry and pass through good towns whose
inhabitants were all the happier for being called on by needy men."
This slow travelling suited me for the time being, for we were having
another fall of snow, and I half regretted having left Montreal,
although, day after day I was certainly getting a little nearer to the
gold of Klondyke. But I determined to shake off this slow companion on
the first approach of fine weather.
We loafed all day in the different railway stations, in each of which
was kept a warm comfortable room for the convenience of passengers.
Although we were passengers of another sort, and stole rides on the
trains without a fraction of payment to the company, we boldly made
ourselves at home in these places, being mistaken for respectable
travellers, who were enjoying the comforts for which we paid.
Sometimes a station master would look hard on us, suspecting us for
what we were, but he was very diffident about risking a question,
however much he was displeased at seeing us in comfortable possession
of the seats nearest to the stoves. Towards evening we made
application for lodgings at the local jail, at which place we would be
accommodated until the following morning. I was now without money,
with the exception of that which was concealed and reserved for the
most hazardous part of the journey, which would be its western end.
Now, in all these jails we were searched and examined before being
admitted for a night's shelter, but often in a very indifferent
manner. One night we arrived at a small town where a double hanging
was to take place in the yard of the jail early the next morning. A
woman, it seems, had called on her lover to assist in the murder of
her husband, which had been brutally done with an axe, for which crime
both had been pronounced guilty and condemned to die. Thousands of
people had flocked in from the neighbouring country, which in this
province of Ontario was thickly settled, and a large number of plain
clothes detectives had been dispatched from the cities, there being
supposed some attempt might be made at rescue, owing to one of the
condemned being a woman. We arrived at this town early in the
afternoon, and were surprised at the unusual bustle and the many
groups of people assembled in the main thoroughfares. Thinking the
town contained, or expected, some attraction in the way of a circus or
menagerie, we expressed little curiosity, but returned at once to the
railway station, intending to possess its most comfortable seats
against all comers, until the approach of darkness, when we would then
make application at the jail for our night's accommodation. When this
time came, we marched straight to the jail, and boldly hammered its
door for admittance. It was at once answered by a police officer, to
whom we explained our wants, and he, without much ado, invited us
indoors. Expecting the usual questions, and being prepared with the
usual answers--expecting the usual indifferent search, and having
pipe, tobacco and matches artfully concealed in our stockings--we were
somewhat taken by surprise to find a large number of officers, who all
seemed to show an uncommon interest in our appearance. The officer,
who was examining us previous to making us comfortable for the night,
had finished this part of the business to his own satisfaction, when
one of these detectives stepped forward, and said--"We cannot admit
strangers to the jail on the present occasion, so that you had better
make them out an order for the hotel." This order was then given to
us, and we immediately left the jail; and it was then, curious to know
the reason for this action, that we soon made ourselves acquainted
with the true facts of the case. When we arrived at the hotel, we were
informed that every bed had been taken since morning, and that, as it
was, a number of men would be compelled to sit all night dozing in
their chairs, and it was with this information that we returned to the
jail. For the second time we were admitted, and were advised to walk
to the next town. This, Three Fingered Jack absolutely refused to do,
saying that his feet were too blistered and sore to carry him another
hundred yards. All these detectives then got together, and, after a
rather lengthy consultation, one of them came forward and, after
plying us with a number of questions, proceeded to examine our
clothes, and that so thoroughly that I feared for the result. At the
beginning of the search, I gave him my razor, a small penknife, my
pocket-handkerchief and a comb, but he was not satisfied until his
hands were down in my stockings, and bringing up first my pipe, then
my tobacco, and lastly the matches. What worried me most was the belt
next to my body, which contained my money. I had not much fear of
Three Fingered Jack, when confronting each other openly, though he was
a tall active man, but had he known of these dollars, I had not dared
in his presence to have closed my eyes, believing that he would have
battered out my brains with a stone, wooden stake or iron bar, so that
he might possess himself of this amount. This detective certainly
discovered the belt, and felt it carefully, but the money being in
paper, and no coin or hard substance being therein, he apparently was
none the wiser for its contents. At last this severe examination was
at an end, and we were both led through an iron corridor and placed in
a cell, the door of which was carefully locked. I don't believe we
slept one moment during that night but what we were overlooked by a
pair, or several pairs of shrewd eyes. They could not believe but
that we were other to what we pretended, and had come there with
designs to thwart the ends of justice. Next morning our things were
returned to us, and we were turned adrift at a cold hour that was far
earlier than on ordinary occasions.
The snow was still deep and the mornings and evenings cold when, a
week after this, we reached Ottawa. This slow travelling was not at
all to my liking, and I often persuaded my companion to make more
haste towards Winnipeg. This he agreed to do; so the next morning we
jumped a freight train, determined to hold it for the whole day.
Unfortunately it was simply a local train, and being very slow, having
to stop on the way at every insignificant little station, we left it,
at a town called Renfrew, intending that night to beat a fast overland
passenger train, which would convey us four or five hundred miles
before daybreak. With this object we sat in the station's waiting-room
until evening, and then, some twenty minutes before the train became
due, we slipped out unobserved and took possession of an empty car,
stationary some distance away, from which place we could see the train
coming, and yet be unseen from the station's platform. This train
would soon arrive, for passengers were already pacing the platform,
the luggage was placed in readiness, and a number of curious people,
having nothing else to do, had assembled here to see the coming and
going of the train. At last we heard its whistle, and, looking out, we
saw the headlight in the distance, drawing nearer and nearer. It
steamed into the station without making much noise, for the rails were
slippery, there still being much ice and snow on the track. "Come," I
said to Jack, "there is no time to lose;" and we quickly jumped out of
the empty car.
This fast passenger train carried a blind baggage car, which means
that the end nearest to the engine was blind in having no door. Our
object was to suddenly appear from a hiding place, darkness being
favourable, and leap on the step of this car, and from that place to
the platform; this being done when the train was in motion, knowing
that the conductor, who was always on the watch for such doings,
rarely stopped the train to put men off, even when sure of their
presence. If he saw us before the train started, he would certainly
take means to prevent us from riding. When we had once taken
possession of this car, no man could approach us until we reached the
next stopping place, which would probably be fifty miles, or much
more. At that place we would dismount, conceal ourselves, and, when it
was again in motion, make another leap for our former place. Of
course, the engineer and fireman could reach us, but these men were
always indifferent, and never interfered, their business being ahead
instead of behind the engine.
The train whistled almost before we were ready, and pulled slowly out
of the station. I allowed my companion the advantage of being the
first to jump, owing to his maimed hand. The train was now going
faster and faster, and we were forced to keep pace with it. Making a
leap he caught the handle bar and sprang lightly on the step, after
which my hand quickly took possession of this bar, and I ran with the
train, prepared to follow his example. To my surprise, instead of at
once taking his place on the platform, my companion stood
thoughtlessly irresolute on the step, leaving me no room to make the
attempt. But I still held to the bar, though the train was now going
so fast that I found great difficulty in keeping step with it. I
shouted to him to clear the step. This he proceeded to do, very
deliberately, I thought. Taking a firmer grip on the bar, I jumped,
but it was too late, for the train was now going at a rapid rate. My
foot came short of the step, and I fell, and, still clinging to the
handle bar, was dragged several yards before I relinquished my hold.
And there I lay for several minutes, feeling a little shaken, whilst
the train passed swiftly on into the darkness.
Even then I did not know what had happened, for I attempted to stand,
but found that something had happened to prevent me from doing this.
Sitting down in an upright position, I then began to examine myself,
and now found that the right foot was severed from the ankle. This
discovery did not shock me so much as the thoughts which quickly
followed. For, as I could feel no pain, I did not know but what my
body was in several parts, and I was not satisfied until I examined
every portion of it. Seeing a man crossing the track, I shouted to him
for assistance. He looked in one direction and another, not seeing me
in the darkness, and was going his way when I shouted again. This time
he looked full my way, but instead of coming nearer, he made one bound
in the air, nearly fell, scrambled to his feet, and was off like the
shot from a gun. This man was sought after for several weeks, by
people curious to know who he was, but was never found, and no man
came forward to say--"I am he." Having failed to find this man, people
at last began to think I was under a ghostly impression. Probably that
was the other man's impression, for who ever saw Pity make the same
speed as Fear?
Another man, after this, approached, who was a workman on the line,
and at the sound of my voice he seemed to understand at once what had
occurred. Coming forward quickly, he looked me over, went away, and in
a minute or two returned with the assistance of several others to
convey me to the station. A number of people were still there; so that
when I was placed in the waiting room to bide the arrival of a doctor,
I could see no other way of keeping a calm face before such a number
of eyes than by taking out my pipe and smoking, an action which, I am
told, caused much sensation in the local press.