BIG JOE’S IDEA
In May, Big Joe conceived a brilliant idea for making a living. He came
into the shanty of the barge with it one balmy noon, for it was embodied
in a large canvas bag which he carried in his big outstretched hand.
“Sure and now we be goin’ to eat, kid, and we be goin’ to live high, and
ye be goin’ to do all the things ye’ want for Toby,” he said chuckling.
“Stealin’?” Skippy asked, looking worried and wan. “As hard up as we
been, Big Joe, I can’t stand for sneakin’ down the river at night an’
climbin’ into warehouse windows. Gee, Pop’d feel fierce if we was caught
an’ I was put in reform school or sumpin’ like that!”
“And d’ye be thinkin’ I ain’t carin’ no more for ye than seein’ ye
grabbed for somethin’ like that, me boy? Kid, I been thinkin’ and
thinkin’ o’ some way for us to be gettin’ by—some way that no copper
could catch us up on. And if they iver should ’twon’t be you what’d be
holdin’ the bag—’twill be me, ’cause I’m the one what’ll do the trick.
Do you catch on?”
“What trick, Big Joe?”
“’Tis the stuff I got in this bag, kid,” answered Tully softly. “’Tis
ground carbon and whin it’s poured in with oil it raises the divil with
thim nice engines in rich guys’ boats up at the Riverview Yacht Club.
From now on till the end o’ summer they’re takin’ trips—see? Well, sure
and Big Joe’s got a good pal what looks out for the boats up there ...
he’s told beforehand what rich guy’s goin’ out in his boat, he is ... my
pal tells me and I go up there—see? Him and me edge aisy like towards
the boat and whilst he’s lookin’ out the corners o’ his eye that no
one’s comin’, Big Joe uncovers the crank case and ’fore ye could say
_scat_, I’m pourin’ me little powder in the breather pipe and sure she’s
mixin’ with the oil.”
“An’ what then?” Skippy asked, nervous, yet admiring Big Joe’s ingenious
idea.
Big Joe winked, then laughed.
“Sure, I pour the right amount o’ this powder, kid,” he said, “thin I
beats it off quick and watch the rich guy start, so I do. If ’tis
possible, me pal finds out where the guy’s goin’ so’s I can beat it on
ahead and circle his course so I come up on him by the time his ingine’s
dead—see?”
“The powder mixes through the oil an’ up through the engine, huh?”
Skippy asked fearfully. “Makes the engine go dead, huh?”
“Sure ’tis ground up like nobody’s business, kid,” Big Joe laughed. “An’
I make sure o’ puttin’ in enough so’s I’ll be knowin’ about where the
ingine goes dead on thim. And thin I chug up to thim all innocent like
and asks do they want help. _Do_ they? Sure they must be towed back so I
says I don’t think I’m their man ’cause I’ll be losin’ business
somewheres or other—see? And they’re so anxious they’ll be willin’ to
pay me price, so they will. And I gotta be paid for the loss o’ me
time!” He laughed heartily.
“I—I—gee, in a way that’s worse than pulling a warehouse, Big Joe? It
ain’t so dangerous, but....”
“Kid, sure I thought ye’d be takin’ on, but I can tell ye it ain’t so
bad at all, at all. I’ll be pickin’ out only thim what’s payin’ tin and
twinty grand for their kickers! What’s the cost to thim what throws away
hundreds o’ bucks at a time? And what’s fifty or seventy-five bucks for
to be payin’ me for towin’ thim back? Sure ’tis a drop in the bucket,
says I. They’ll niver be missin’ it, kid. And we gotta live, you and me,
and Toby’s case’s gotta go before the governor some day and that takes
money too.”
Skippy nodded and Big Joe noticed that the old pinched look had come
back to his thin cheeks.
“Kid, ye can’t be goin’ on like this, you and me!” he pleaded. “Like I
said ’tis only the big guys—guys what have the heavy sugar. We’ll be
layin’ off the others and we’ll be workin’ the different clubs so nobody
gets wise. Thim boat tenders’ll go along for a little o’ the split. So
ye needn’t be worryin’ that we’re takin’ thim what can’t afford it!
Besides they’re mostly rich warehouse guys that won’t give you and me
the chance for honest work. Sure and now ye won’t be feelin’ so bad
about takin’ it, will ye?”
That decided Skippy. Hunger and privation had dulled his conscience,
embittered him against the warehouse owners and he was at last ready to
strike back at his oppressors.
And strange to say, in contemplating the results of this stealthy
enterprise, Skippy did not think of the food, nor the movies to which he
could go. He was thinking instead that he would at last have the money
to pay for his journey up to see his father. For a few golden moments
the walls of the prison would fade away and Toby would imagine himself a
free man. And all because of a breath of river air that his son would
bring him in his smile.
And for that, Skippy was willing to forget that he hated dishonesty in
any form.