A dock on the Cuyahoga River, at Cleveland. The high bows of a propeller
loomed up far above them; a wooden bridge, with hand-rails of rope,
extended from a square opening in its side to the place where they were
standing--the judge, bewildered by the deafening noise of the
letting-off of steam and by the hustling of the deck-hands who ran to
and fro putting on freight; little Jack, round-eyed with wonder,
surveying the scene from his nurse's arms; Cicely, listless, unhearing;
and Eve, with the same pale-cheeked self-control and the same devoted
attention to Cicely which had marked her manner through all their rapid
journey across the broad country from Charleston to Washington, from
Washington to Pittsburgh, from Pittsburgh to Cleveland.
"I think we cross here," she said; "by this bridge." She herself went
first. The bridge ascended sharply; little slats of wood were nailed
across its planks in order to make the surface less slippery. The yellow
river, greasy with petroleum from the refineries higher up the stream,
heaved a little from the constant passing of other craft; this heaving
made the bridge unsteady, and Eve was obliged to help the nurse when she
crossed with Jack, and then to lead Cicely, and to give a hand to the
judge, who came last.
"You are never dizzy," said the judge.
"No, I am never dizzy," Eve answered, as though she were saying the
phrase over to herself as a warning.
She led the way up a steep staircase to the cabin above. This was a long
narrow saloon, decked with tables each covered with a red cloth, whereon
stood, in white vases representing a hand grasping a cornucopia, formal
bouquets, composed principally of peonies and the foliage of asparagus.
Narrow doors, ornamented with gilding, formed a panelling on each side;
between the doors small stiff sofas of red velvet were attached by iron
clamps to the floor, which was covered with a brilliant carpet; above
each sofa, under the low ceiling, was a narrow grating. Women and a few
men sat here and there on the sofas; they looked at the new passengers
apathetically. Lawless children chased one another up and down the
narrow spaces between the sofas and the tables, forcing each person who
was seated to draw in his or her legs with lightning rapidity as they
passed; babies with candy, babies with cookies, babies with apples,
crawled and tottered about on the velvet carpet, and drew themselves up
by the legs of the tables, leaving sticky marks on the mahogany
surfaces, and generally ending by striking their heads against the top,
sitting down suddenly and breaking into a howl. Eve led the way to the
deck; she brought forward chairs, and they seated themselves. A
regularly repeated and deafening clash came from the regions below; the
deck-hands were bringing steel rails from a warehouse on the dock, and
adding them one by one to the pile already on board by the simple method
of throwing them upon it. After the little party had sat there for
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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