II

When he came to it was just noon.
He lay upon the floor and stared.
He heard mill-whistles through his swoon
Of pain — like drills into him hewn.
" Where am I?" asked he. Then came back
The blow — and still an unseen fist
Like a great hammer, whack on whack,
Seemed beating with a demon din
Upon his wounded brain — far in.

It maddened him; till he arose
And saw the river slipping by.
He watched it as one does who knows
Its beauty no more for him flows.
He was ten million years from it:
The artery of time was severed.
In vain his senses strove to knit
The world that was on yesterday
With this earth-corpse that round him lay.

He bathed his face — and then went out,
Past sweaty, dinner-pailed deckhands,
To strive and call his thoughts from rout,
With his will's bitter, broken knout.
He leant against a cotton-bale
And saw the muddy current pass.
And when it bore a body, stale,
Swollen, and foul with drowning, by,
No difference came into his eye.

Save that he wished he too were drowned —
Or the old man — yes, the old man.
And what had been so hard — to round
His thoughts up — hatred easily found.
It herded all wild animal
Desires within his bleeding heart;
Hereditary fiercenesses
He did not know were in his blood
Stamped the clear stream of it to mud.

" I 'll have my money — and I 'll go,"
He said, " I 'll get it if I die!"
He left the wharf, stern with the woe
Of one Content no more will know.
He stemmed the heavy cobblestones;
The shanty-boats sent out a whiff
Of fish frying and corn bread pones.
But the sole hunger that he felt
Was — for the stroke that must be dealt.

He took a path through tall ragweed
That grew along the river edge,
Where as a child he used to lead
In games and many a danger-deed.
The sun-cracked clay beneath his feet
Gaped like his broken world within,
On which hot shame still seemed to beat.
Even the face of Ellen now
Was seared from sight within his brow.

Beyond the waterworks he stopped,
Beside the sycamored Bayou.
A dove in branches leafy-topped
Her low love-note upon him dropped.
Its softness only hardened more
His hate and hard determination.
How could he get what was his due —
And then get Ellen — get her too?

He thought until dark drew the sun
Into its net — the day was caught,
And God the Fisher having done,
Loosed minnow stars to swim and run.
But Jess, too, Jess had caught his fish —
A way to get his rights. He rose.
" She will not have another wish,
When I have told her I must leave,
Than to come with me, to believe."

The blue arc-lights were sifting out
Their carbon-sparks and settling down
To the night's duty, as a doubt
How to see Ellen brought Jess rout.
He slowed his step from street to street,
Scanning the face of each home-comer,
And hoping one that he might meet
Would be hers. And it was. She came —
Twilit — but in her eyes love's flame.

" Jess!" — " Ellen!" — " Jess!" — " Oh, is it you?"
He felt in his her little hand,
As if around his heart it grew;
Yet his words shook her, like death-dew.
" What is it, Jess?" With low alarm
And love her young girl's voice trembled.
" I have been done a dreadful harm,
And I must go away — or kill.
Go with me, Ellen! Say you will."

" Oh, Jess, what is it?" — " Do not ask.
To tell you now would strangle me.
And I have still a bitter task
To do, and there 's no time to bask.
But you shall hear, upon the train,
All, when for ever we are wedded,
For that alone will keep me sane.
Oh, Ellen, if you do not come,
Then life has added my last sum."

" I will," she said, " I will, dear Jess,
Forgetting and forsaking all.
At your great misery I but guess:
God let me drain it of distress.
For now I know father and mother
And home and swathing luxury
Can never from this moment smother
My heart from saying with each beat
That you alone can make life sweet."

He seized her to him, then said, " Go;
At twelve be ready: I will come."
Then as an arrow from the bow
Of destiny he sped — to woe.
He reached the levee; saw the moon
Like the thin rind of a new world;
A silvery promise of the boon
Of finding in some new-won place
Relief from his hot harsh disgrace.

But first the money must be netted,
" All that is mine" — he said, and slipped
Down to the wharf that waves wetted
A little, by the sharp wind fretted.
The door gave to his key: the smell
Of dark-stowed freight struck on his sense.
But in the darkness he could tell
His way; and soon the office latch
Clicked — and he scraped light from a match.

The safe stood in the corner — by
The desk old Garth was wont to use.
The name upon it met his eye
As might a ghost he must defy.
But he remembered the foul blow
Which had been flung against his brow
A few hours since, and saw the flow
Of dry blood on the floor. Dark hate
Rose in him like a flood of fate.

Quickly he lit a candle — knelt.
But what was that? ... Nothing. ... He listened.
The moon fleeced with a silvery pelt
The river's flow — or seemed to melt,
Then came again so hauntingly
That life was much too, beautiful
For money thus to bow his knee. ...
But ere he knew the tumblers fell:
The combination answered well.
Then his hands found the money — bill
On bill he thrust into his coat;
His wages — yet upon his will
They weighed with fear he could not kill.
A sound once more — he started. ... Was
It but the scuttle of a rat?
A breathing of God's broken laws?
He knew not as he took one more —
Then saw old Garth stand in the door.