Authors: John Steinbeck
“What about tomorrow?”
“Well, Sonny Boy was telling the truth about that ordinance. By tomorrow it’ll be against the law for the boys to march along the county road. I don’t think they’ll remember about trucks. So, instead of standing around orchards, we’re going to send out flying squads in the cars. We can raid one bunch of scabs and get out, and raid another. It ought to work.”
“Where we going to get gasoline?”
“Well, we’ll take it out of all the cars and put it in the ones we use. That should last tomorrow. The next day we may have to try something else. Maybe we can hit hard enough tomorrow so we can rest up the next day, until they get in a new load of scabs.”
Jim asked, “I can go tomorrow, can’t I?”
Mac cried, “What good would you be? The guys that go have to be fighters. You just take up room with that bum arm. Use your head.”
London pushed open the flaps and came in. His face was flushed with pleasure. “Them guys is sure steamed up,” he said. “Jesus, they’re belly-for-back to kick Torgas for a growler.”
“Don’t give ’em no headway,” Mac advised. “They got their guts full of chow. If they go loose, we ain’t never goin’ to catch up with them.”
London pulled up a box and sat down on it. “The chow’s about ready, the guy says. I want to ast you, Mac, ever’body says you’re a red. Them two guys that come to talk both said it. Seemed to know all about you.”
“Yeah?”
“Tell me straight, Mac. Is you an’ Jim reds?”
“What do you think?”
London’s eyes flashed angrily, but he controlled himself. “Don’t get mean, Mac. I don’t take it nice if the guys on the other side know more about you’n I do. What the hell do I know? You come into my camp and done us a good turn. I never ast you no questions—never did. I wouldn’t ast you any now, on’y I got to know what to expect.”
Mac looked puzzled. He glanced at Jim. “O.K.?”
“O.K. by me.”
“Listen, London,” Mac began. “A guy can get to like you awful well. Sam’ll kick the ass off any guy that looks crooked at you.”
“I got good friends,” said London.
“Well, that’s why. I feel the same way. S’pose I was a red, what then?”
London said, “You’re a friend of mine.”
“O.K., then, I’m a red. There ain’t a hell of a secret about it. They say I started this strike. Now get me straight. I would of started it if I could, but I didn’t have to. It started itself.”
London eyed him cautiously, as though his mind slowly circled Mac’s mind. “What do you get out of it?” he asked.
“Money, you mean? Not a damn thing.”
“Then what do you do it for?”
“Well, it’s hard to say—you know how you feel about Sam an’ all the guys that travel with you? Well, I feel that way about all the workin’ stiffs in the country.”
“Guys you don’t even know?”
“Yes, guys I don’t even know. Jim here’s just the same, just the same.”
“Sounds crazy as hell,” said London. “Sounds like a gag. An’ you don’t get no money?”
“You don’t see no Rolls-Royces around, do you?”
“But how about after?”
“After what?”
“Maybe after this is over you’ll collect.”
“There ain’t no after,” Mac said. “When this one’s done, we’ll be in another one.”
London squinted at him, as though he tried to read his thoughts. “I believe it,” he said slowly. “You ain’t give me no bum steers yet.”
Mac reached over and struck him sharply on the shoulders. “I’d of told you before, if you asked me.”
London said, “I got nothing against reds. Y’always hear how they’re sons-of-bitches. Sam’s kind of rattlesnake and whip tempered, but he ain’t no son-of-a-bitch. Let’s go over an’ get some food.”
Mac stood up. “I’ll bring you and Lisa some, Jim.”
London said, from the doorway, “Moon’s comin’ up nice. I didn’t know it was full moon.”
“It isn’t. Where do you see it?”
“Look, see over there? Looks like moon-rise.”
Mac said, “That ain’t east—Oh, Jesus! It’s Anderson’s.
London
” he shouted. “They’ve set fire to Anderson’s! Get the guys. Come on, God damn it! Where are those guards? Get the guys quick!” He ran away toward the red, gathering light behind the trees.
Jim jumped up from the mattress. He didn’t feel his wounded arm as he ran along, fifty yards behind Mac. He heard London’s voice roaring, and then the drumming of many feet on the wet ground. He reached the trees and speeded up. The red light mushroomed out behind the trees. It was more than a glow now. A lance of flame cleared the tree-tops. Above the sound of steps there was a vicious crackling. From ahead came shrill cries and a muffled howling. The trees threw shadows away from the light. The end of the orchard row was blocked with fire, and in front of it black figures moved about. Jim could see Mac pounding ahead of him, and he could hear the increasing, breathy roar of the flames. He sprinted, caught up with Mac, and ran beside him. “It’s the barn,” he gasped. “Were the apples out yet?”
“Jim! Damn it, you shouldn’t come. No, the apples are in the barn. Where the hell were the guards? Can’t trust anybody.” They neared the end of the row, and the hot air struck their faces. All the barn walls were sheathed in fire, and the strong flames leaped from the roof. The guards stood by Anderson’s little house, quiet,
watching the light, while Anderson danced jerkily in front of them.
Mac stopped running. “No go. We can’t do a thing. They must of used gasoline.”
London plunged past them, and his face was murderous. He drew up in front of the guards and shouted, “You God-damn rats! Where in hell were you?”
One of the men raised his voice above the fire. “You sent a guy to tell us you wanted us. We was halfway to the camp when we seen it start.”
London’s fury drained out of him. His big fists undoubted. He turned helplessly to where Mac and Jim stood, their eyes glaring in the light. Anderson capered close to them in his jerky, wild dance. He came close to Mac and stood in front of him and pushed his chin up into Mac’s face. “You dirty son-of-a-bitch!” His voice broke, and he turned, crying, back toward the tower of flame. Mac put his arm around Anderson’s waist, but the old man flung it off. Out of the fire came the sharp, sweet odor of burning apples.
Mac looked weak and sad. To London he said, “God, I wish it hadn’t happened. Poor old man, it’s all his crop.” A thought stopped him. “Christ Almighty! Did you leave anybody to look after the camp?”
“No. I never thought.”
Mac whirled. “Come on, a flock of you. Maybe they’re drawin’ us. Some of you stay here so the house won’t burn too.” He sprinted back, the way he had come. His long black shadow leaped ahead of him. Jim tried to keep up with him, but a sick weakness set in. Mac drew away from him, and the men passed him, until he was alone, behind them, stumbling along
giddily over the uneven earth. No flames broke from the camp ahead. Jim settled down to walk along the vague aisle between the rows. He heard the crash of the falling barn, and did not even turn to look. When he was halfway back, his legs buckled with weakness, and he sat down heavily on the ground. The sky was bright with fire over his head, and behind the low, rosy light the icy stars hung.
Mac, retracing his steps, found him there. “What’s the matter, Jim?”
“Nothing. My legs got weak. I’m just resting. Is the camp all right?”
“Sure. They didn’t get to it. There’s a man hurt. Fell down, I think he busted his ankle. We’ve got to find Doc. What a damn fool easy trick that was! One of their guys tells the guards to get out while the rest splash gasoline around and throw in a match. Jesus, it was quick! Now we’ll get
hell
from Anderson. Get kicked off the place tomorrow, I guess.”
“Where’ll we go then, Mac?”
“Say! You’re all in. Here, give me your arm. I’ll help you back. Did you see Doc at the fire?”
“No.”
“Well, he said he was going over to see Al. I didn’t see him come back. Come on, climb to your feet. I’ve got to get you bedded down.”
Already the light was dying. At the end of the row lay a pile of fire, but the flames no longer leaped up in long streamers. “Hold on to me, now. Anderson was nearly crazy, wasn’t he? Thank God they didn’t get his house.”
London, with Sam behind him, caught up. “How’s the camp?”
“O.K. They didn’t get it.”
“Well what’s the matter with the kid?”
“Just weak from his wound. Give ’im a lift on that side.” Together they half-carried Jim down the row and across the open space to London’s tent. They set him down on the mattress. Mac asked, “Did you see the Doc over there? A guy’s bust his ankle.”
“No. I never seen him.”
“Well, I wonder where he is?”
Sam entered the tent silently. His lean face was ridged with tight muscles. He walked stiffly over and stood in front of Mac, “That afternoon, when that guy says what he’d do——”
“What guy?”
“That first guy that come, an’ you told him.”
“I told him what?”
“Told ’im what we’d do.”
Mac started and looked at London. “I don’t know, Sam. It might switch public sympathy. We should be getting it now. We don’t want to lose it.”
Sam’s voice was thick with hatred. “You can’t let ’em get away with it. You can’t let the yellow bastards burn us out.”
London said, “Come out of it, Sam. What do you want?”
“I want to take a couple guys—an’ play with matches.” Mac and London watched him carefully. “I’m goin’,” Sam said. “I don’ give a damn. I’m goin’. There’s a guy name Hunter. He’s got a big white house. I’m takin’ a can of gasoline.”
Mac grinned. “Take a look at this guy, London. Ever see him before? Know who he is?”
London caught it. “No, can’t say I do. Who is he?”
“Search me. Was he ever in camp?”
“No, by God! Maybe he’s just a guy with a grudge. We get all kind of things pinned on us.”
Mac swung back on Sam. “If you get caught, you got to take it.”
“I’ll take it,” Sam said sullenly. “I ain’t sharin’ no time. I ain’t takin’ nobody with me, neither. I changed my mind.”
“We don’t know you. You just got a grudge.”
“I hate the guy ’cause he robbed me,” said Sam.
Mac stepped close to him and gripped his arm. “Burn the bastard into the ground,” he said viciously. “Burn every stick in the house. I’d like to go with you. Jesus, I would!”
“Stick here,” said Sam. “This ain’t your fight. This guy robbed me—an’ I’m a fireburg. I always like to play with matches.”
London said, “So long, Sam. Drop in some time.”
Sam slipped quietly out of the tent and disappeared. London and Mac looked for a moment at the gently swaying tent-flap. London said, “I got a feelin’ he ain’t comin’ back. Funny how you can get to like a mean man like that. Always got his chin stuck out, lookin’ for trouble.”
Jim had sat quietly on the mattress. His face was troubled. Through the tent walls the glow of the fire was still faintly visible, and now the shriek of sirens sounded, coming nearer and nearer, lonely and fierce in the night.
Mac said bitterly, “They gave it a good long time to get started before the trucks came out. Hell, we never did
get anything to eat. Come on, London. I’ll get some for you, Jim.”
Jim sat waiting for them to come back. Lisa, beside him, was secretly nursing the baby under the blanket again. “Don’t you ever move around?” Jim asked.
“Huh?”
“You just sit still. All these things go on around you, and you pay no attention. You don’t even hear.”
“I wisht it was over,” she replied. “I wisht we lived in a house with a floor, an’ a toilet close by. I don’t like this fightin’.”
“It’s got to be done,” Jim said. “It will be over sometime, but maybe not in our lives.”
Mac came in carrying two steaming food cans. “Well, the fire trucks got there before it was all out, anyway. Here, Jim, I put the beef in with the beans. You take this one, Lisa.”
Jim said, “Mac, you shouldn’t’ve let Sam go.”
“Why the hell shouldn’t I?”
“Because you didn’t feel right about it, Mac. You let your own personal hatred get in.”
“Well, Jesus! Think of poor old Anderson, losing his barn and all his crop.”
“Sure, I know. Maybe it’s a good idea to burn Hunter’s house. You got hot about it, though.”
“Yeah? An’ I guess you’re goin’ to be reportin’ me, maybe. I bring you out to let you get some experience, an’ you turn into a God damn school teacher. Who th’ hell do you think you are, anyway? I was doin’ this job when you were slobberin’ your bib.”
“Now wait a minute, Mac. I can’t do anything to help but use my head. Everything’s going on, and I sit here
with a sore shoulder. I just don’t want you to get mad, Mac. You can’t think if you get mad.”
Mac glared sullenly at him. “You’re lucky I don’t knock your can off, not because you’re wrong, but because you’re right. You get sick of a guy that’s always right.” Suddenly he grinned. “It’s done, Jim. Let’s forget it. You’re turning into a proper son-of-a-bitch. Everybody’s going to hate you, but you’ll be a good Party man. I know I get mad; I can’t help it. I’m worried as hell, Jim. Everything’s going wrong. Where you s’pose Doc is?”
“No sign of him yet? Remember what he said when he went out?”
“Said he was going to see Al.”
“Yes, but before that, how lonely he was. He sounded screwy, like a guy that’s worked too hard. Maybe he went off his nut. He never did believe in the cause, maybe he’s scrammed.”
Mac shook his head. “I’ve been around with Doc plenty. That’s one thing he didn’t do. Doc never ran out on anybody. I’m worried, Jim. Doc was headed for Anderson’s. S’pose he took those raiders for our guards, an’ they caught him? They’d sure as hell catch him if they could.”
“Maybe he’ll be back later.”
“Well, I’ll tell you. If the health office gets out an order against us tomorrow, we can be damn sure that Doc was snatched. Poor devil! I don’t know what to do about the man with the busted ankle. One of the guys set it, but he probably set it wrong. Oh, well, maybe Doc’s just wanderin’ around in the orchard. It’s my fault for letting him start over there alone, all my fault. London’s doing everything he can. I forget things. I’m getting a weight on me, Jim. Anderson’s barn’s right on top of me.”