the jacket (the star-rover)-第47章

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surrender；　making　a　vain　and　empty　mouthing　of　his　ultimatum；

〃Dynamite　or　curtains。〃　　He　gave　me　up　as　one　who　could　not　be

killed　in　a　strait…jacket。　　He　had　had　men　die　after　several　hours

in　the　jacket。　　He　had　had　men　die　after　several　days　in　the　jacket；

although；　invariably；　they　were　unlaced　and　carted　into　hospital　ere

they　breathed　their　last　。　。　。　and　received　a　death　certificate　from

the　doctor　of　pneumonia；　or　Bright's　disease；　or　valvular　disease　of

the　heart。



But　me　Warden　Atherton　could　never　kill。　　Never　did　the　urgency

arise　of　carting　my　maltreated　and　perishing　carcass　to　the

hospital。　　Yet　I　will　say　that　Warden　Atherton　tried　his　best　and

dared　his　worst。　　There　was　the　time　when　he　double…jacketed　me。　　It

is　so　rich　an　incident　that　I　must　tell　it。



It　happened　that　one　of　the　San　Francisco　newspapers　（seeking；　as

every　newspaper　and　as　every　commercial　enterprise　seeks；　a　market

that　will　enable　it　to　realize　a　profit）　tried　to　interest　the

radical　portion　of　the　working　class　in　prison　reform。　　As　a　result；

union　labour　possessing　an　important　political　significance　at　the

time；　the　time…serving　politicians　at　Sacramento　appointed　a

senatorial　committee　of　investigation　of　the　state　prisons。



This　State　Senate　committee　INVESTIGATED　（pardon　my　italicized

sneer）　San　Quentin。　　Never　was　there　so　model　an　institution　of

detention。　　The　convicts　themselves　so　testified。　　Nor　can　one　blame

them。　　They　had　experienced　similar　investigations　in　the　past。

They　knew　on　which　side　their　bread　was　buttered。　　They　knew　that

all　their　sides　and　most　of　their　ribs　would　ache　very　quickly　after

the　taking　of　their　testimony　。　。　。　if　said　testimony　were　adverse

to　the　prison　administration。　　Oh；　believe　me；　my　reader；　it　is　a

very　ancient　story。　　It　was　ancient　in　old　Babylon；　many　a　thousand

years　ago；　as　I　well　remember　of　that　old　time　when　I　rotted　in

prison　while　palace　intrigues　shook　the　court。



As　I　have　said；　every　convict　testified　to　the　humaneness　of　Warden

Atherton's　administration。　　In　fact；　so　touching　were　their

testimonials　to　the　kindness　of　the　Warden；　to　the　good　and　varied

quality　of　the　food　and　the　cooking；　to　the　gentleness　of　the

guards；　and　to　the　general　decency　and　ease　and　comfort　of　the

prison　domicile；　that　the　opposition　newspapers　of　San　Francisco

raised　an　indignant　cry　for　more　rigour　in　the　management　of　our

prisons；　in　that；　otherwise；　honest　but　lazy　citizens　would　be

seduced　into　seeking　enrolment　as　prison　guests。



The　Senate　Committee　even　invaded　solitary；　where　the　three　of　us

had　little　to　lose　and　nothing　to　gain。　　Jake　Oppenheimer　spat　in

its　faces　and　told　its　members；　all　and　sundry；　to　go　to　hell。　　Ed

Morrell　told　them　what　a　noisome　stews　the　place　was；　insulted　the

Warden　to　his　face；　and　was　recommended　by　the　committee　to　be　given

a　taste　of　the　antiquated　and　obsolete　punishments　that；　after　all；

must　have　been　devised　by　previous　Wardens　out　of　necessity　for　the

right　handling　of　hard　characters　like　him。



I　was　careful　not　to　insult　the　Warden。　　I　testified　craftily；　and

as　a　scientist；　beginning　with　small　beginnings；　making　an　art　of　my

exposition；　step　by　step；　by　tiny　steps；　inveigling　my　senatorial

auditors　on　into　willingness　and　eagerness　to　listen　to　the　next

exposure；　the　whole　fabric　so　woven　that　there　was　no　natural

halting　place　at　which　to　drop　a　period　or　interpolate　a　query　。　。　。

in　this　fashion；　thus；　I　got　my　tale　across。



Alas！　no　whisper　of　what　I　divulged　ever　went　outside　the　prison

walls。　　The　Senate　Committee　gave　a　beautiful　whitewash　to　Warden

Atherton　and　San　Quentin。　　The　crusading　San　Francisco　newspaper

assured　its　working…class　readers　that　San　Quentin　was　whiter　than

snow；　and　further；　that　while　it　was　true　that　the　strait…jacket　was

still　a　recognized　legal　method　of　punishment　for　the　refractory；

that；　nevertheless；　at　the　present　time；　under　the　present　humane

and　spiritually　right…minded　Warden；　the　strait…jacket　was　never；

under　any　circumstance；　used。



And　while　the　poor　asses　of　labourers　read　and　believed；　while　the

Senate　Committee　dined　and　wined　with　the　Warden　at　the　expense　of

the　state　and　the　tax　payer；　Ed　Morrell；　Jake　Oppenheimer；　and　I

were　lying　in　our　jackets；　laced　just　a　trifle　more　tightly　and　more

vindictively　than　we　had　ever　been　laced　before。



〃It　is　to　laugh；〃　Ed　Morrell　tapped　to　me；　with　the　edge　of　the　sole

of　his　shoe。



〃I　should　worry；〃　tapped　Jake。



And　as　for　me；　I　too　capped　my　bitter　scorn　and　laughter；　remembered

the　prison　houses　of　old　Babylon；　smiled　to　myself　a　huge　cosmic

smile；　and　drifted　off　and　away　into　the　largeness　of　the　little

death　that　made　me　heir　of　all　the　ages　and　the　rider　full…panoplied

and　astride　of　time。



Yea；　dear　brother　of　the　outside　world；　while　the　whitewash　was

running　off　the　press；　while　the　august　senators　were　wining　and

dining；　we　three　of　the　living　dead；　buried　alive　in　solidarity；

were　sweating　our　pain　in　the　canvas　torture。



And　after　the　dinner；　warm　with　wine；　Warden　Atherton　himself　came

to　see　how　fared　it　with　us。　　Me；　as　usual；　they　found　in　coma。

Doctor　Jackson　for　the　first　time　must　have　been　alarmed。　　I　was

brought　back　across　the　dark　to　consciousness　with　the　bite　of

ammonia　in　my　nostrils。　　I　smiled　into　the　faces　bent　over　me。



〃Shamming；〃　snorted　the　Warden；　and　I　knew　by　the　flush　on　his　face

and　the　thickness　in　his　tongue　that　he　had　been　drinking。



I　licked　my　lips　as　a　sign　for　water；　for　I　desired　to　speak。



〃You　are　an　ass；〃　I　at　last　managed　to　say　with　cold　distinctness。

〃You　are　an　ass；　a　coward；　a　cur；　a　pitiful　thing　so　low　that

spittle　would　be　wasted　on　your　face。　　In　such　matter　Jake

Oppenheimer　is　over…generous　with　you。　　As　for　me；　without　shame　I

tell　you　the　only　reason　I　do　not　spit　upon　you　is　that　I　cannot

demean　myself　nor　so　degrade　my　spittle。〃



〃I've　reached　the　limit　of　my　patience！〃　he　bellowed。　　〃I　will　kill

you；　Standing！〃



〃You've　been　drinking；〃　I　retorted。　　〃And　I　would　advise　you；　if　you

must　say　such　things；　not　to　take　so　many　of　your　prison　curs　into

your　confidence。　　They　will　snitch　on　you　some　day；　and　you　will

lose　your　job。〃



But　the　wine　was　up　and　master　of　him。



〃Put　another　jacket　on　him；〃　he　commanded。　　〃You　are　a　dead　man；

Standing。　　But　you'll　not　die　in　the　jacket。　　We'll　bury　you　from

the　hospital。〃



This　time；　over　the　previous　jacket；　the　second　jacket　was　put　on

from　behind　and　laced　up　in　front。



〃Lord；　Lord；　Warden；　it　is　bitter　weather；〃　I　sneered。　　〃The　frost

is　sharp。　　Wherefore　I　am　indeed　grateful　for　your　giving　me　two

jackets。　　I　shall　be　almost　comfortable。〃



〃Tighter！〃　he　urged　to　Al　Hutchins；　who　was　drawing　the　lacing。

〃Throw　your　feet　into　the　skunk。　　Break　his　ribs。〃



I　must　admit　that　Hutchins　did　his　best。



〃You　WILL　lie　about　me；〃　the　Warden　raved；　the　flush　of　wine　and

wrath　flooding　ruddier　into　his　face。　　〃Now　see　what　you　get　for　it。

Your　number　is　taken　at　last；　Standing。　　This　is　your　finish。　　Do

you　hear？　　This　is　your　finish。〃



〃A　favour；　Warden；〃　I　whispered　faintly。　　Faint　I　was。　　Perforce　I

was　nearly　unconscious　from　the　fearful　constriction。　　〃Make　it　a

triple　jacketing；〃　I　managed　to　continue；　while　the　cell　walls

swayed　and　reeled　about　me　and　while　I　fought　with　all　my　will　to

hold　to　my　consciousness　that　was　being　squeezed　out　of　me　by　the

jackets。　　〃Another　jacket　。　。　。　Warden　。　。　。　It　。　。　。　will　。　。　。　be

。　。　。　so　。　。　。　much　。　。　。　er　。　。　。　warmer。〃



And　my　whisper　faded　away　as　I　ebbed　down　into　the　little　death。



I　was　never　the　same　man　after　that　double…jacketing。　　Never　again；

to　this　day；　no　matter　what　my　food；　was　I　properly　nurtured。　　I

suffered　internal　injuries　to　an　extent　I　never　cared　to

investigate。　　The　old　pain　in　my　ribs　and　stomach　is　with　me　now　as

I　write　these　lines。　　But　the　poor；　maltreated　machinery　has　served

its　purpose。　　It　has　enabled　me　to　live　thus　far；　and　it　will　enable

me　to　live　the　little　longer　to　the　day　they　take　me　out　in　the

shirt　without　a　collar　and　stretch　my　neck　with　the　well…stretched

rope。



But　the　double…jacketing　was　the　last　straw。　　It　broke　down　Warden

Atherton。　　He　surrendered　to　the　demonstration　that　I　was

unkillable。　　As　I　told　him　once：



〃The　only　way　you　can　get　me；　Warden；　is　to　sneak　in　here　some　night

with　a　hatchet。〃



Jake　Oppenheimer　was　responsible　for　a　good　one　on　the　Warden　which

I　must　relate：



〃I　say；　Warden；　it　must　be　straight　hell　for　you　to　have　to　wake　up

every　morning　with　yourself　on　your　pillow。〃



And　Ed　Morrell　to　the　Warden：



〃Your　mother　must　have　been　damn　fond　of　children　to　have　raised

you。〃



It　was　really　an　offence　to　me　when　the　jacketing　ceased。　　I　sadly

missed　that　dream　world　of　mine。　　But　not　for　long。　　I　found　that　I

could　suspend　animation　by　the　exercise　of　my　will；　aided

mechanically　by　constricting　my　chest　and　abdomen　with　the　blanket。

Thus　I　induced　physiological　and　psychological　states　similar　to

those　caused　by　the　jacket。　　So；　at　will；　and　without　the　old

torment；　I　was　free　to　roam　through　time。



Ed　Morrell　believed　all　my　adventures；　but　Jake　Oppenheimer　remained

sceptical　to　the　last。　　It　was　during　my　third　year　in　solitary　that

I　paid　Oppenheimer　a　visit。　　I　was　never　able　to　do　it　but　that

once；　and　that　one　time　was　wholly　unplanned　and　unexpected。



It　was　merely　after　unconsciousness　had　come　to　me　that　I　found

myself　in　his　cell。　　My　body；　I　knew；　lay　in　the　jacket　back　in　my

own　cell。　　Although　never　before　had　I　seen　him；　I　knew　that　this

man　was　Jake　Oppenheimer。　　It　was　summer　weather；　and　he　lay　without

clothes　on　top　his　blanket。　　I　was　shocked　by　his　cadaverous　face

and　skeleton…like　body。　　He　was　not　even　the　shell　of　a　man。　　He　was

merely　the　structure　of　a　man；　the　bones　of　a　man；　still　cohering；

stripped　practically　of　all　flesh　and　covered　with　a　parchment…like

skin。



Not　until　back　in　my　own　cell　and　consciousness　was　I　able　to　mull

the　thing　over　and　realize　that　just　as　was　Jake　Oppenheimer；　so　was

Ed　Morrell；　so　was　I。　　And　I　could　not　but　thrill　as　I　glimpsed　the

vastitude　of　spirit　that　inhabited　these　frail；　perishing　carcasses

of　usthe　three　incorrigibles　of　solitary。　　Flesh　is　a　cheap；　vain

thing。　　Grass　is　flesh；　and　flesh　becomes　grass；　but　the　spirit　is

the　thing　that　abides　and　survives。　　I　have　no　patience　with　these

flesh…worshippers。　　A　taste　of　solitary　in　San　Quentin　would　swiftly

convert　them　to　a　due　appreciation　and　worship　of　the　spirit。



But　to　return　to　my　experience　m　Oppenheimer's　cell。　　His　body　was

that　of　a　man　long　dead　and　shrivelled　by　desert　heat。　　The　skin

that　covered　it　was　of　the　colour　of　dry　mud。　　His　sharp；　yellow…

gray　eyes　seemed　the　only　part　of　him　that　was　alive。