6 of 200

Write now Article Tools

ANOTHER IRISH
A small shiver ran over him and he hunched his shoulders against the pre-dawn fog. The ferry ride across San Francisco Bay hadn't been bad, with men packed like cattle; so tight their shared heat was almost too warm. Now, though, waiting in the line of day-laborers, he tried to ignore the damp chill creeping through his light jacket.

The line had moved rapidly at first, the men filing steadily past a knot of supervisors handing out work tickets, then collecting barrows and tools and heading into the scaffolding for a long day of work. He was close to the front of the line when it stopped. The supervisors dispersed to their areas, leaving a small crowd unassigned. He looked around, unsure of his next move. If he stayed, he lost a day of work, or looking for work. If he left, he would have to pay for the ferry himself and spending money with none coming in was precarious. On the verge of a decision, he started to turn away.

"Nah, Nah, Dan. You want to stay," came a voice from behind him. "We're only four or five from the front of the line and they'll surely go through at least that many before mid-day."

Dan looked at the speaker. "Tommy Cleary, I didn't see you on the ferry. What d'you mean, go through'," he asked.

"Ah, there's always a few don't make it through the day and the bosses'll be looking for some to replace them."

Dan nodded and settled in to wait, the silence between the two men, a companionable one. He thought about the long, hard trip from New York and the good job he had left to come here. Though being a streetcar conductor demanded long hours, it had paid a full $7 a week, but the promise of $12, to start, and a grand new adventure were irresistible to an ambitious, young man in the year of 1906.

A series of screams and crashes broke his reverie. He looked up in time to see the flailing body of a man bounce off the last of a series of staggered scaffolds and smash on the ground. In a shocked moment of stillness, the man's agonized screams were the only sound. Dan could feel them in the bones of his head and back. A boss rushed up, shouting orders and the sound of construction slowly resumed.

"You and you," he shouted to a pair of laborers, while pointing at the dying man, "get that out of here! And you," he turned to the man holding the work tickets, "get another Irish up there."

The muscles of Dan's stomach knotted. He took the cap off his head, slapped it against his leg to knock off the dust, wiped his face against his forearm and looked

• 1
• 2
• 3
• next page >>

Add your voice

Know something about Short stories: Dreams?
We want to hear your view. Write now!