hem ing way

8/3/2019 Hem Ing Way

1/65

ON THEQUAI AT

SMYRNATHE

STRANGE thing

was, he said, how

they screamedeverynight at


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midnight. I do

not know whythey screamed at

thattime. Wewere in the

harbor and theywere all on the

pier andat

midnight they


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started

screaming. Weused to turn

thesearchlight onthem to quiet

them. Thatalways did the

trick.We'd run

the searchlight up


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and down over

them two orthreetimes and

they stopped it.One time I was

senior officer onthe pier and a

Turkish officer

came up to me in


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a frightful

rage because oneof our sailors had

been mostinsulting to him.

So Itold him thefellow would be

sent on ship and

be most


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severely punishe

d. I asked him topoint him out. So

he pointed outagunner's mate,

most inoffensivechap. Said he'd

been

mostfrightfully


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and repeatedly

insulting; talkingto me through

aninterpreter. Icouldn't imagine

how the gunner'smate

knewenough

Turkish to be


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insulting. I called

him over and said,"And just in case

you should havespoken to any

Turkishofficers.""I

haven't spoken to

any of them,


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sir.""I'm quite

sure of it," Isaid, "but you'd

best go onboardship and

not come ashoreagain for the rest

of the day."Then

I told the Turk


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the man was

being sent onboard shipand

would be mostseverely dealt

with. Oh mostrigorously.He

felt topping about

it. Great friends


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we were.The

worst, he said,were the women

with dead babies.Youcouldn't get

the women togive up their

dead babies.

They'dhave


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babies dead for

six days.Wouldn't give

them up.Nothingyou

could do aboutit. Had to take

them away

finally.


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Thenthere was

an old lady, mostextraordinary

case. I told it toadoctor and he

said I was lying.We were clearing

them off the pier,

had to clear off


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the dead ones,

and this oldwoman was


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12

I N O U R T I M E lyingon a sort of litter. They


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said, "Will you have a

look ather, sir?" So Ihad a look at her and

just then she died

andwent absolutely stiff.

Her legs drew up and she

drew up fromthe waist

and went quite rigid.

Exactly as though shehad beendead over

night. She was quite

dead and absolutelyrigid. Itold a medical


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chap about it and he told

me it wasimpossible.They were all

out there on the pier and

it wasn't at all likean

earthquake or that sort

of thing because they

never knewabout the

Turk. They never knewwhat the old Turk

woulddo. You

remember when theyordered us not to come


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in totake off anj more? I

had the wind up whenwe came in

thatmorning. He had

any amount of batteries

and could have blown

us clean out of the

water. We were going

to come in,run closealong the pier, let go the

front and rear anchors

andthen shell theTurkish quarter of the


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town. They would

have blown us out of thewater but we would have

blown the townsimply to

hell. They just fired a

few blank charges at us

as wecame in. Kemal

came down and sacked

the Turkish comman-der.For exceeding his

authority or some such

thing. He got a bit abovehimself. It would have


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been the hell of a

mess.You remember theharbor. There were

plenty of nice

thingsfloating around in

it. That was the only

time in my life I got soI

dreamed about things.

You didn't mind thewomen whowere having

babies as you did those

with the dead ones.Theyhad them all right.


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Surprising how few of

them died. Youjustcovered them over

with something and let

them go to it.They'd

always pick out the

darkest place in the hold

to havethem. None of

them minded anythingonce they got off

the pier.The Greeks were

nice chaps too. Whenthey evacuated theyhad


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all their baggage animals

they couldn't take offwith themso they just

broke their forelegs and

dumped them into

theshallow witer. All

those mules with their

forelegs broken pushed

over into the shallowwater. It was all a

pleasant busi-ness. My

word yes a most pleasantbusiness.


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Chapter I

Everybody was drunk-The whole battery was

drunk going along the

road in the dark,. We weregoing to the Champagne.

Thelieutenant kept riding

his horse out into the

fields and saying tohim,

"I'm drunkj I tell you,

mon vieux. Oh, I am so

soused." Wewent alongthe road all night in the


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dar\ and the adjutant kept

rid-ing up alongside mykitchen and saying, "You

must put it out. It

isdangerous. It will be

observed." We were fifty

kilometers from the front

but the adjutant worried

about the fire in mykitchen. It was funny

going along that road.

That was when I was akitchen cor- poral.


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INDIANCAMPAT

THE lake shore

there was anotherrowboat drawn

up. ThetwoIndians stood


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waiting. Nick

and his fathergot in the stern

of the boat andtheIndians

shoved it off andone of them got

in to row.

UncleGeorge sat


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in the stern of

the camprowboat. The

youngIndianshoved the camp

boat off and gotin to row

UncleGeorge.The

two boats started


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off in the dark.

Nick heard theoar-locks of the

other boat quite away ahead of

them in themist.The Indians

rowed with quick

choppy strokes.


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Nick lay

back with hisfather's arm

around him. Itwas cold on the

water.The Indianwho was rowing

them was

working very


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hard, but the

other boatmoved further

ahead in themist all

thetime."Whereare we going,

Dad?" Nick

asked."Over to


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the Indian camp.

There is anIndian lady

verysick.""Oh,"said Nick.Across

the bay theyfound the other

boat beached.

UncleGeorge


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was smoking a

cigar in the dark.The young

Indian pulled theboat way up on

the beach. UncleGeorge gave

boththe Indians

cigars.They


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walked up from

the beachthrough a

meadow thatwassoaking wet with

dew, followingthe young Indian

whocarried a

lantern. Then


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they went into

the woods andfol-lowed a trail

that led to thelogging road that

ran back intothehills. It was

much lighter on

the logging road


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as the

timber was cutaway on both

sides. The youngIndian stopped

and blew out hislantern and they

all walked on

along the road.


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16

I N O U R T I M EI n d i a n C a m p

They came around a

bend and a dog came

out barking.Ahead werethe lights of the shanties

where the Indian

bark peelers lived. Moredogs rushed out at them.

The two Indianssent

them back to the

shanties. In the shanty

nearest the roadthere was


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a light in the window. An

old woman stood inthedoorway holding a

lamp.Inside on a

wooden bunk lay a

young Indian woman.

Shehad been trying to

have her baby for two

days. All the oldwomenin the camp had been

helping her. The men

hadmoved off up theroad to sit in the dark


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and smoke out of range

of the noise she made.She screamed just as

Nick andthe two Indians

followed his father and

Uncle George into

theshanty. She lay in the

lower bunk, very big

under a quilt. Her headwas turned to one side.

In the upper bunk was

her husband. He hadcut his foot very badly


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with an ax three days be-

fore. He was smoking apipe. The room smelled

very bad. Nick's father

ordered some water to

be put on the stove,and

while it was heating he

spoke to Nick."This lady

is going to have a baby,Nick," he said."I know,'

said Nick."You don't

know," said his father."Listen to me. What


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sheis going through is

called being in labor. Thebaby wants to be born

and she wants it to be

born. All her muscles are

trying toget the baby

born. That is what is

happening when

shescreams.""I see,"Nick said.Just then the

woman cried out."Oh,

Daddy, can't you giveher something to make


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her stopscreaming?"

asked Nick."No. Ihaven't any

anaesthetic," his father

said. "But her screams

are not important. I don't

hear them because they

arenot important."The

husband in the upperbunk rolled over against

the wall.The woman in

the kitchen motioned tothe doctor that thewater


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was hot. Nick's father

went into the kitchen andpouredabout half of the

water out of the big

kettle into a basin.

Intothe water left in the

kettle he put several

things he

unwrappedfrom ahandkerchief."Those

must boil," he said, and

began to scrub his handsinthe basin of hot water


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with a cake of soap he

had broughtfrom thecamp. Nick watched his

father's hands

scrubbingeach other

with the soap. While his

father washed his

handsvery carefully and

thoroughly, hetalked."You see, Nick,

babies are supposed to

be born head first butsometimes they're not.


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When they're not they

make a lotof trouble foreverybody. Maybe I'll

have to operate on

thislady. We'll know in a

little while."When he

was satisfied with his

hands he went in and

wentto work."Pull backthat quilt, will you,

George?" he said. "I'd

rather not touch it."Laterwhen he started to


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operate Uncle George

and threeIndian menheld the woman still. She

bit Uncle George on

thearm and Uncle

George said, "Damn

squaw bitch!" and

theyoung Indian who had

rowed Uncle Georgeover laughed athim. Nick

held the basin for his

father. It all took a longtime.His father picked


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the baby up and slapped

it to make it breathe andhanded it to the old

woman."See, it's a boy,

Nick," he said. "How do

you like being

aninterne?" Nick said,

"All right." He was

looking away so as not toseewhat his father was

doing."There. That gets

it," said his father andput somethinginto the


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basin. Nick didn't look at

it."Now," his father said,"there's some stitches to

put in. Youcan watch

this or not, Nick, just as

you like. I'm going to

sewup the incision I

made." Nick did not

watch. His curiosity hadbeen gone for a longtime.

His father finished andstood up. Uncle George

and the threeIndian men


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stood up. Nick put the

basin out in the kitcheni8

I N O U R T I M EI n d i a n C a m p

l

9

Uncle George looked at

his arm. The youngIndian

smiledreminiscently."I'll

put some peroxide on

that, George," the doctor

said.He bent over the


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Indian woman. She was

quiet now andher eyeswere closed. She looked

very pale. She did not

knowwhat had become

of the baby or

anything."I'll be back in

the morning," the doctor

said, standing up."Thenurse should be here

from St. Ignace by noon

and she'll bringeverything we need."He


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was feeling exalted and

talkative as footballplayers arein the dressing

room after a

game."That's one for

the medical journal,

George," he

said."Doing a Cassarian

with a jack-knife andsewing it up withnine-

foot, tapered gut

leaders."Uncle Georgewas standing against the


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wall, looking at

hisarm."Oh, you're agreat man, all right," he

said."Ought to have a

look at the proud father.

They're usuallythe worst

sufferers in these little

affairs," the doctor said.

"Imust say he took it allpretty quietly."He pulled

back the blanket from

the Indian's head.Hishand came away


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wet. He mounted on the

edge of the lower bunkwith the lamp in one

hand and looked in. The

Indianlay with his face

toward the wall. His

throat had been

cutfrom ear to ear. The

blood had flowed downinto a pool wherehis

body sagged the bunk.

His head rested on hisleft arm. Theopen razor


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lay, edge up, in the

blankets."Take Nick outof the shanty, George,"

the doctor said.There

was no need of that.

Nick, standing in the

door of the kitchen, had

a good view of the upper

bunk when his fa-ther,the lamp in one hand,

tipped the Indian's head

back.It was justbeginning to be


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daylight when they

walkedalong the loggingroad back toward the

lake."I'm terribly sorry I

brought you along,

Nickie," said hisfather,

all his post-operative

exhilaration gone. "It

was anawful mess to putyou through.i8

I N O U R T I M EI n d i a n C a m pl


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9

Uncle George looked athis arm. The young

Indian

smiledreminiscently."I'll

put some peroxide on

that, George," the doctor

said.He bent over the

Indian woman. She wasquiet now andher eyes

were closed. She looked

very pale. She did notknowwhat had become


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of the baby or

anything."I'll be back inthe morning," the doctor

said, standing up."The

nurse should be here

from St. Ignace by noon

and she'll bring

everything we need."He

was feeling exalted andtalkative as football

players arein the dressing

room after agame."That's one for


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the medical journal,

George," hesaid."Doing a Cassarian

with a jack-knife and

sewing it up withnine-

foot, tapered gut

leaders."Uncle George

was standing against the

wall, looking athisarm."Oh, you're a

great man, all right," he

said."Ought to have alook at the proud father.


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They're usuallythe worst

sufferers in these littleaffairs," the doctor said.

"Imust say he took it all

pretty quietly."He pulled

back the blanket from

the Indian's head.

Hishand came away

wet. He mounted on theedge of the lower bunk

with the lamp in one

hand and looked in. TheIndianlay with his face


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toward the wall. His

throat had beencutfrom ear to ear. The

blood had flowed down

into a pool wherehis

body sagged the bunk.

His head rested on his

left arm. Theopen razor

lay, edge up, in theblankets."Take Nick out

of the shanty, George,"

the doctor said.Therewas no need of that.


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Nick, standing in the

door of the kitchen, hada good view of the upper

bunk when his fa-ther,

the lamp in one hand,

tipped the Indian's head

back.It was just

beginning to be

daylight when theywalkedalong the logging

road back toward the

lake."I'm terribly sorry Ibrought you along,


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Nickie," said hisfather,

all his post-operativeexhilaration gone. "It

was anawful mess to put

you through.""Do ladies

always have such a hard

time having

babies?" Nick

asked."No, that wasvery, very

exceptional.""Why did

he kill himself,Daddy?""I don't know,


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Nick. He couldn't stand

things, I guess.""Domany men kill

themselves,

Daddy?""Not very many,

Nick.""Do many

women?""Hardly

ever.""Don't they

ever?""Oh, yes. They dosometimes.""Daddy?""Y

es.""Where did Uncle

George go?""He'll turnup all right.""Is dying


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hard, Daddy?""No, I

think it's pretty easy,Nick. It all

depends."They were seated in the

boat, Nick in the stern, his father rowing.

The sun was coming up

over the hills. A bass

jumped,making a circle

in the water. Nicktrailed his hand in

thewater. It felt warm in

the sharp chill of themorning.In the early


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morning on the lake

sitting in the stern ofthe boat with his father

rowing, he felt quite sure

that he wouldnever die.Do l ad i es a l way s have s uch a ha r d t i me hav i ng bab i es ?" Nick asked."No, that was very, very exceptional.""Why did he kill himself,

Daddy?""I don't know, Nick. He couldn't stand things, I guess.""Do many

men kill themselves, Daddy?""Not very many, Nick.""Do many

women?""Hardly ever.""Don't they ever?""Oh, yes. They dosometimes.""Daddy?""Yes.""Where did Uncle George go?""He'l l turn up

a ll ri gh t. " "Is dying hard, Daddy?""No, I think it's pretty easy, Nick. It all

depends."They were seated in the boat, Nick in the stern, his father rowing.The sun was coming up over the hills. A bass jumped,m a k i n g a c i r c l e i n

t h e w a t e r . N i c k t r a i l e d h i s h a n d i n t h e w ater. It felt warm in the

sharp chill of the morning.In the early morning on the lake sitting in the sternof the boat with his father rowing, he felt quite sure that he wouldnever die

hem ing way

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