by Mark Twain
“The case stands like this. If the master dismisses 44—but he can’t lawfully do it; that way out is blocked. If 44 remains, you refuse to work, and the master cannot fulfill his contract. That is ruin for him. You hold all the cards, that is evident.”
Having conceded this, he began to reason upon the matter, and to plead for the master, the just master, the kind and blameless master, the generous master, now so sorely bested, a master who had never wronged any one, a master who would be compassionate if he were in their place and they in his . . . . .
It was time to interrupt him, lest his speech begin to produce effects, presently; and Katzenyammer did it.
“That’s enough of that taffy—shut it off!” he said. “We stand solid; the man that weakens—let him look to himself!”
The war-light began to rise in Doangivadam’s eyes, and he said—
“You refuse to work. Very well, I can’t make you, and I can’t persuade you—but starvation can! I’ll lock you into the shop, and put guards over you, and the man that breaks out shall have his reward.”
The men realized that the tables had been turned; they knew their man—he would keep his word; he had their swords, he was master of the situation. Even Katzenyammer’s face went blank with the suddenness of the checkmate, and his handy tongue found nothing at the moment to say. By order the men moved by in single file and took up their march for the shop, followed by 44 and Doangivadam, who carried swords and maintained peace and order. Presently—
“Halt!” cried the commander. “There’s a man missing. Where is Ernest Wasserman?”
It was found that he had slipped out while 44 was telling his story. But all right, he was heard coming, now. He came swaying and tottering in, sank into a chair, looking snow white, and said, “O, Lord!”
Everybody forgot the march, and crowded around him, eager to find out what dreadful thing had happened. But he couldn’t answer questions, he could only moan and shiver and say—
“Don’t ask me! I’ve been to the shop! O, lordy-lord, oh, lordy-lord!”
They couldn’t get a thing out of him but that, he was that used up and gone to pieces. Then there was a break for the shop, Doangivadam in the lead, and the rest clattering after him through the dim and musty corridors. When we arrived we saw a sight to turn a person to stone: there before our eyes the press was whirling out printed sheets faster than a person could count them—just snowing them onto the pile, as you may say—yet there wasn’t a human creature in sight anywhere!
And that wasn’t all, nor the half. All the other printing-shop work was going briskly on—yet nobody there, not a living thing to be seen! You would see a sponge get up and dip itself in a basin of water; see it sail along through the air; see it halt an inch above a galley of dead matter and squeeze itself and drench the galley, then toss itself aside; then an invisible expert would flirt the leads out of that matter so fast they fairly seemed to rain onto the imposing-stone, and you would see the matter contract and shrink together under the process; next you would see as much as five inches of that matter separate itself from the mass and rise in the air and stand upright; see it settle itself upon that invisible expert’s ring-finger as upon a seat; see it move across the room and pause above a case and go to scattering itself like lightning into the boxes—raining again? yes, it was like that. And in half or three-quarters of no time you would see that five inches of matter scatter itself out and another five come and take its place; and in another minute or two there would be a mountain of wet type in every box and the job finished.
At other cases you would see “sticks” hovering in the air above the space-box; see a line set, spaced, justified and the rule slipped over in the time it takes a person to snap his fingers; next minute the stick is full! next moment it is emptied into the galley! and in ten minutes the galley’s full and the case empty! It made you dizzy to see these incredible things, these impossible things.
Yes, all the different kinds of work were racing along like Sam Hill—and all in a sepulchral stillness. The way the press was carrying on, you would think it was making noise enough for an insurrection, but in a minute you would find it was only your fancy, it wasn’t producing a sound—then you would have that sick and chilly feeling a person always has when he recognizes that he is in the presence of creatures and forces not of this world. The invisibles were making up forms, locking up forms, unlocking forms, carrying new signatures to the press and removing the old: abundance of movement, you see, plenty of tramping to and fro, yet you couldn’t hear a footfall; there wasn’t a spoken word, there wasn’t a whisper, there wasn’t a sigh—oh, the saddest, uncanniest silence that ever was.
But at last I noticed that there really was one industry lacking—a couple of them: no proofs were taken, no proofs were read! Oh, these were experts, sure enough! When they did a thing, they did it right, apparently, and it hadn’t any occasion to be corrected.
Frightened? We were paralyzed; we couldn’t move a limb to get away, we couldn’t even cross ourselves, we were so nerveless. And we couldn’t look away, the spectacle of those familiar objects drifting about in the air unsupported, and doing their complex and beautiful work without visible help, was so terrifyingly fascinating that we had to look and keep on looking, we couldn’t help it.
At the end of half an hour the distribution stopped, and the composing. In turn, one industry after another ceased. Last of all, the churning and fluttering press’s tremendous energies came to a stand-still; invisible hands removed the form and washed it, invisible hands scraped the bed and oiled it, invisible hands hung the frisket on its hook. Not anywhere in the place was any motion, any movement, now; there was nothing there but a soundless emptiness, a ghostly hush. This lasted during a few clammy moments, then came a sound from the furthest case—soft, subdued, but harsh, gritty, mocking, sarcastic: the scraping of a rule on a box-partition! and with it came half a dozen dim and muffled spectral chuckles, the dry and crackly laughter of the dead, as it seemed to me.
In about a minute something cold passed by. Not wind, just cold. I felt it on my cheek. It was one of those ghosts; I did not need any one to tell me that; it had that damp, tomby feel which you do not get from any live person. We all shrank together, so as not to obstruct the others. They straggled along by at their leisure, and we counted the frosts as they passed: eight.
Chapter 12
We arrived back to our beer-and-chess room troubled and miserable. Our adventure went the rounds of the castle, and soon the ladies and the servants came, pale and frightened, and when they heard the facts it knocked them dumb for one while, which was not a bad thing.
But the men were not dumb. They boldly proposed to denounce the magician to the Church and get him burnt, for this thing was a little too much, they said. And just then the magician appeared, and when he heard those awful words, fire and the Church, he was that scared he couldn’t stand; the bones fairly melted in his legs and he squshed down in a chair alongside of Frau Stein and Maria, and began to beg and beseech. His airy pride and self-sufficiency had all gone out of him, and he pretended with all his might that he hadn’t brought those spectres and hadn’t had anything to do with it. He seemed so earnest that a body could hardly keep from believing him, and so distressed that I had to pity him though I had no love for him, but only admiration.
But Katzenyammer pressed him hard, and so did Binks and Moses Haas, and when Maria and her mother tried to put in a word for him they convinced nobody and did him no good. Doangivadam put the climax to the poor man’s trouble and hit the nail on the head with a remark which everybody recognized as the wisest and tellingest thing that had been said yet. He said—
“Balthasar Hoffman, such things don’t happen by accident—you know that very well, and we all do. You are the only person in the castle that has the power to do a miracle like that. Now then—firstly, it happened; secondly, it didn’t happen by itself; thirdly, you are here. What would anybody but a fool conclude?”
Several shouted—
“He’s got him! got him where he can’t budge!”
Another shouted—
“He doesn’t answer, and he can’t—the stake’s the place for him!”
The poor old thing began to cry. The men rose against him in a fury; they were going to seize him and hale him before the authorities, but Doangivadam interposed some more wisdom, good and sound. He said—
“Wait. It isn’t the best way. He will leave the enchantment on, for revenge. We want it taken off, don’t we?”
Everybody agreed, by acclamation. Doangivadam certainly had a wonderful head, and full of talent.
“Very well, then. Now Balthasar Hoffman, you’ve got a chance for your life. It has suited you to deny, in the most barefaced way, that you put that enchantment on—let that pass, it doesn’t signify. What we want to know now, is, if we let you alone, do you promise it shan’t happen again?”
It brought up his spirits like raising the dead, he was so glad and grateful.
“I do, I do!” he said; “on my honor it shan’t happen again.”
It made the greatest change. Everybody was pleased, and the awful shadow of that fear vanished from all faces, and they were as doomed men that had been saved. Doangivadam made the magician give his honor that he would not try to leave the castle, but would stand by, and be a safeguard; and went on to say—
“That enchantment had malice back of it. It is my opinion that those invisible creatures have been setting up and printing mere rubbish, in order to use up the paper-supply and defeat the master’s contract and ruin him. I want somebody to go and see. Who will volunteer?”
There was a large silence; enough of it to spread a foot deep over four acres. It spread further and further, and got thicker and thicker. Finally Moses Haas said, in his mean way—
“Why don’t you go?”
They all had to smile at that, for it was a good hit. Doangivadam managed to work up a smile, too, but you could see it didn’t taste good; then he said—
“I’ll be frank about it. I don’t go because I am afraid to. Who is the bravest person here?”
Nearly everybody nominated Ernest Wasserman, and laughed, and Doangivadam ordered him to go and see, but he spoke out with disgust and indignation and said—
“See you in hell, first, and then I wouldn’t!”
Then old Katrina spoke up proud and high, and said—
“There’s my boy, there. I lay he’s not afraid. Go ‘long and look, child.”
They thought 44 wouldn’t, but I thought he would, and I was right, for he started right along, and Doangivadam patted him on the head and praised his pluck as he went by. It annoyed Ernest Wasserman and made him jealous, and he pursed up his lips and said—
“I wasn’t afraid to go, but I’m no slave and I wasn’t going to do it on any random unclassified Tom-Dick-and-Harry’s orders.”
Not a person laughed or said a word, but every man got out his composing rule and scraped wood, and the noise of it was like a concert of jackasses. That is a thing that will take the stiffening out of the conceitedest donkey you can start, and it squelched Ernest Wasserman, and he didn’t pipe up any more. Forty-Four came back with an astonisher. He said—
“The invisibles have finished the job, and it’s perfect. The contract is saved.”
“Carry that news to the master!” shouted Doangivadam, and Marget got right up and started on that mission; and when she delivered it and her uncle saw he was saved in purse and honor and everything, it was medicine for him, and he was a well man again or next to it before he was an hour older.
Well, the men looked that disgusted, you can’t think—at least those that had gotten up the strike. It was a good deal of a pill, and Katzenyammer said so; and said—
“We’ve got to take it—but there’ll be sugar on it. We’ve lost the game, but I’ll not call off the strike nor let a man go to work till we’ve been paid waiting-wages.”
The men applauded.
“What’s waiting-wages?” inquired Doangivadam.
“Full wages for the time we’ve lost during the strike.”
“M-y—word! Well, if that isn’t cheek! You’re to be paid for time lost in trying to ruin the master! Meantime, where does he come in? Who pays him his waiting-time?”
The leaders tossed their heads contemptuously, and Binks said he wasn’t interested in irrelevances.
So there we were, you see—at a stand-still. There was plenty of work on hand, and the “takes” were on the hooks in the shop, but the men stood out; they said they wouldn’t go near the place till their waiting-wages had been paid and the shop spiritually disinfected by the priest. The master was as firm; he said he would never submit to that extortion.
It seemed to be a sort of drawn battle, after all. The master had won the biggest end of the game, but the rest of it remained in the men’s hands. This was exasperating and humiliating, but it was a fact just the same, and the men did a proper amount of crowing over it.
About this time Katzenyammer had a thought which perhaps had occurred to others, but he was the first to utter it. He said, with a sneer—
“A lot is being taken for granted—on not even respectable evidence, let alone proof. How do we know the contract has been completed and saved?”
It certainly was a hit, everybody recognized that; in fact you could call it a sockdolajer, and not be any out of the way. The prejudice against 44 was pretty strong, you know. Doangivadam was jostled—you could see it. He didn’t know what to say—you could see that, too. Everybody had an expression on his face, now—a very exultant one on the rebel side, a very uncomfortable one on the other—with two exceptions: Katrina and 44; 44 hadn’t any expression at all—his face was wood; but Katrina’s eyes were snapping. She said—
“I know what you mean, you ornery beer-jug, you Katzenyammer; you mean he’s a liar. Well, then, why don’t you go and see for yourself? Answer me that—why don’t you?”
“I don’t need to, if you want to know. It’s nothing to me—I don’t care what becomes of the contract.”
“Well, then, keep your mouth shut and mind your own business. You dasn’t go, and you know it. Why, you great big mean coward, to call a poor friendless boy a liar, and then ain’t man enough to go and prove it!”
“Look here, woman, if you—”
“Don’t you call me woman, you scum of the earth!” and she strode to him and stood over him; “say it again and I’ll tear you to rags!
The bully murmured—
“I take it back,” which made many laugh.
Katrina faced about and challenged the house to go and see. There was a visible shrinkage all around. No answer. Katrina looked at Doangivadam. He slowly shook his head, and said—
“I’ll not deny it—I lack the grit.”
Then Katrina stretched herself away up in the air and said—
“I’m under the protection of the Queen of Heaven, and I’ll go myself! Come along, 44.”
They were gone a considerable time. When they returned Katrina said—
“He showed me everything and explained it all, and it’s just exactly as he told you.” She searched the house, face by face, with her eyes, then settled them upon Katzenyammer and finished: “Is there any polecat here that’s got the sand to doubt it now?”
Nobody showed up. Several of our side laughed, and Doangivadam he laughed too, and fetched his fist down with a bang on the table like the Lord Chief Justice delivering an opinion, and said—
“That settles it!”
Chapter 13
Next day was pretty dreary. The men wouldn’t go to work, but loafed around moody and sour and uncomfortable. There was not much talk; what there was was mumbled, in the main, by pairs. There was no general conversation. At meals silence was the rule. At night there was no jollity, and before ten all had disappeared to their rooms and the castle was a dim and grim solitude.
The day after, the same. Wherever 44 came he got ugly looks, threat
ening looks, and I was afraid for him and wanted to show sympathy but was too timid. I tried to think I avoided him for his own good, but did not succeed to my satisfaction. As usual, he did not seem to know he was being so scowled at and hated. He certainly could be inconceivably stupid at times, for all he was so capable at others. Marget pitied him and said kind things to him, and Doangivadam was cordial and handsome to him, and whenever Doangivadam saw one of those scowls he insulted the man that exhibited it and invited him to exhibit it again, which he didn’t. Of course Katrina was 44’s friend right along. But the friendliness was confined to those three, at least as far as any open show of it went.
So things drifted along, till the contract-gentlemen came for the goods. They brought a freight wagon along, and it waited in the great court. There was an embarrassment, now. Who would box-up the goods? Our men? Indeed, no. They refused, and said they wouldn’t allow any outsider to do it, either. And Katzenyammer said to Doangivadam, while he was pleading—
“Save your breath—the contract has failed, after all!”
It made Doangivadam mad, and he said—
“It hasn’t failed, either. I’ll box the things myself, and Katrina and I will load them into the wagon. Rather than see you people win, I’ll chance death by ghost and fright. I reckon Katrina’s Virgin can protect the two of us. Perhaps you boys will interfere. I have my doubts.”
The men chuckled, furtively. They knew he had spoken rashly. They knew he had not taken into account the size and weight of those boxes.
He hurried away and had a private word with the master, saying—