Adventures in SilenceCollingwood, Herbert W. (Herbert Winslow)
Science
Adventures in Silence
Collingwood, Herbert W. (Herbert Winslow)
Deafness
Some years ago I chanced to be in a small Alabama town, among people I
had never seen before. My mission was a delicate one, demanding keen
judgment and careful diplomacy. It became absolutely necessary for me to
communicate promptly and privately with my wife, who at the time was on
a steamship somewhere off Cape Hatteras. I could not use a telephone,
but I found a man whom I could trust. So I telegraphed to Charleston and
instructed my wife to call a certain ’phone number in this Alabama town.
The message was repeated by wireless, and far off on the wind-blown
ocean it reached the ship and was delivered. When the good lady reached
Charleston she called up the number I had given, delivered her message
to good ears, and it was turned over to me accurately in writing. One
can readily see how tragic it would be if the interpreter for the deaf
man chanced to be careless or criminal, for I should regard it as no
less than a criminal act for one purposely to deceive a deaf person. I
have employed strangers of all colors and conditions in this position
of trust, and it is pleasant to think that most of them have been
efficient and true in the emergencies. For it _is_ an emergency when
one is suddenly called upon to act as interpreter in the affairs of a
stranger. This matter of using the telephone has become so simple to
most people that it is hard to realize the dire complications it may
involve for the deaf.
Once I was delegated to meet my sister and daughter at the old Long
Island ferry in New York. They had spent the day on the island, and were
to come back at night. Before the Pennsylvania Railroad dug its tunnels
under the East River passengers came across from Long Island City at
Thirty-fourth street. The landing and the transfer to street-cars was a
jumble at best. It was about the easiest place in the world to miss your
friends in daylight, while in the evening, under the dim lights, hunting
for human express packages was much like going through a grab-bag. My
passengers did not arrive. There was no sign of them anywhere among
the masses of humans which boat after boat poured out. I began to be
worried, for neither of them had been over the route before. I found
that the train they had named had arrived on time. Either they had not
come or the great city had swallowed them. It was plainly a case where
the telephone became a necessity, but I could not go to the nearest
’phone and call up the friends with whom they had been staying. I had
to find some proxy who would deliver my message and give me an honest
report. All this was serious business at a time when the papers were
full of stories of abductions and insults to girls. Whom could I trust
in such a situation?
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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