Our story today is The Riverman. It was written by Stewart EdwardWhite. Here is Shep O' Neal with our story.
I first met him in a small lumber town. I was sitting in front of ahotel watching people pass by. It was a warm day. Now and then a groupof laughing rivermen marched by. One group especially caught my eye.
They wore bright red shirts and heavy boots. Suddenly one of them cameup to me, "Say, Mister," he said, "You look mighty interested. Are weyour long lost friends?" His voice was friendly enough, but he seemedready for any answer, trouble if I wanted it or help if I needed it.
"Can you tell me where all these people are going?" I asked. He pushedhis little cap farther back on his head. "Birling match," he said,"come on."I joined him and we followed the crowd to the river. There we saw 6men running toward the river with the peaveys they used to controllogs. They used the round metal hooks on the end of the peaveys topush a heavy log into the water. Then one of the men took a long leapand landed on the end of the log. The force of his jump pushed the logout into the middle of the river. The man, arms folded over his chest,stood straight up like a statue of bronze. The crowd roared itsapproval.
The man's name was Darrell. He was a small man but he had wideshoulders and long arms. He walked to the center of the long heavy logand turned to face the crowd. Then slowly, he began to walk, notforward or backward, but in the same place, in the center of the log.
The log began to turn under his feet. His folded arms, his straightback did not move, only his legs and feet. Soon, the log was spinning.
Suddenly the man jumped up in the air. He came down on the log withboth feet. The log stopped turning. It rested under him like a greatmoving animal. The man on the log then dropped his arms and stoodstill for a moment. He jumped into the air again. But this time heturned completely over in the air then landed on the log with bothfeet. The crowd roared again.
Someone then pushed a long pole out toward the log. The log withDarrell on top was pulled toward shore. Another man then ran to theriver and jumped on the log with Darrell. They stood, facing eachother. Then they began to walk, slowly at first, then faster. The logbegan to turn around under them, spinning faster and faster. Soon, itbecame clear that the other man could not keep up with Darrell. Theman was being forced off the top of the log. Suddenly the man fellbackward into the water.
"Clean belled." my friend said. 12 other men, one after the other,tried to get Darrell to fall into the water but none of them couldmove their feet as fast as he could. The crowd now shouted for someoneto stop Darrell. It wanted the best and began to shout, "We wantPowers."Jimmy Powers was my new friend. He got up and ran to the river andjumped onto the log with Darrell. At first, the two men just stoodlooking at each other, waiting for the first move. Suddenly Darrellbirled the log 3 times quickly then jumped up and down to stop it. Thelog shook under Powers but he kept his balance. The battle started.
Sometimes the log rolled left to right, then right to left. They movedtheir feet together, faster and faster. At every move, the crowdshouted for Powers to throw Darrell into the water. Suddenly there wasa big splash. There was Powers swimming toward shore. I walked over tohim.
"How did he do it?" I asked. He turned to me and I saw the anger inhis wet face. "Ah, it's you, well, that's how he did it." And heshowed me a row of holes in his boots. Blood was running from theholes. He jumped on my foot with his boots and pushed the metal spikesright through. "Why didn't you say something?" I asked. "Look, Mister," he said, "I am big enough to take care of myself. Don't lose anyhair over this. I'll stop Darrell on next time. "The following year I visited the old lumber town again. But this timethe town was empty. "Everybody has gone to see the logjam." said anold woman. The jam was up the hill, above the town. When I got there,everybody was looking down at the river. There, in the middle of thewater was a mountain of logs, thousands of them, one on top of theother, blocking the river. About 50 men were using peaveys to free thelogs. Sometimes one would break loose and ten others followed. Allfloated down the river away from the jam. At noon the men came toshore for lunch.
"Hello, Powers," I said, "Do you remember me?" "Sure," he said,"aren't you a little bit early this year?" "No," I said, "this isbetter than a birling match, it will be a great sight when the logsbreak loose." "You bet it well," he said. We talked of many things.
And finally I asked "Did you ever get a chance to birl Darrell off alog?" "Mister," he said, "Those little marks are still on my foot.
Just you remember this. Dicky Darrell will get his from me."About 3 o'clock that afternoon, the logjam began to break up. Therewas no warning just a loud cracking sound that got louder and louderas the rows of logs began to hit each other. At first, a few hundredbroke loose and fell into the swift water. Others quickly followed.
The rivermen separated. They raced away in all directions, leaping andhopping from log to log to get to shore. One man fell into the waterand started to swim to shore. It was Darrell. He was caught in theriver. A thousand logs were rushing toward him.
Suddenly, another riverman raced across the floating logs, seizedDarrell by the coat collar and started to climb up the mountain oflogs, pulling Darrell with him. It was an exciting rescue. The logswere falling and rolling down toward them. But they finally got to thetop of the pile. Without stopping for thanks or shaking hands, the twomen immediately went to work. They pushed and pulled the logs on topto keep the others moving. 40 other men attacked the logs. Then with amighty roar, the mountain broke free. The falling logs leaped forwardlike animals down into the swift water. The logjam was broken.
One by one, the town people left. The sun moved down behind the trees.
A cool evening breeze came up the river. Jimmy Powers walked towardme. "You now," he said, "the owner of the largest lumber mill saw mework today and offered me a job as a boss. Imagine that, me, a boss."There was a strange look on his face. "Well," I said, "you earned it.
I'm not going to call you a hero because you wouldn't like that. Butwhat you did this afternoon showed courage. It was a brave act. But itwas better because you saved your enemy. You are a leader of men." Istopped.
Jimmy kept looking at me. "Mister," he said, "if you are going to hangstars on my Christmas tree, just stop right now. I didn't rescueDarrell because I had any Christian feeling for him. I was just savinghim for the birling match next 4th of July. "You have been listening to the story: The Riverman. It was written byStewart Edward White. Your storyteller was Shep O'Neal. The storyappeared in Americans All published by Hokwerd Brace and World in1920. This story is copyrighted, all rights reserved. Listen againnext week for American Stories told in Special English on the Voice ofAmerica. I'm Shirly G. |