Cool Hand Luke - Donn Pearce [22]
eeeyaaa!
aaaah!
GIDDYAP
YEEAP
Gettin‘ up, Carr.
No. Full house.
I turned over, moving my head so that the bunk above cast a shadow over my eyes from the light bulb on the ceiling. Then I glanced over to my right and saw Jackson still sitting where he was, legs crossed, one arm across his chest with his hand supporting the opposite elbow, his thumb and first finger holding his cigarette while the other fingers were loosely curled in a masculine gesture of the debonair.
For a moment I tried to think back to what it was like to spend my own first night here. I remembered that the bulb was a torture to my eyes. I was conscious of the whispered giggles from the poker table, the sounds of the Wicker Man puttering in his cage, the growls for permission to get up. And there were the smells—the hot, stale air, the smell of burning coal, dirty clothes, sweat, shoes, the odor of shit. And then someone would roll over and the whole precarious apparatus of bunks would sway and creak in response.
Someone let go with a long, delayed, incredibly loud bean fart. Carr answered,
Yeeeaaahhhh!
Carr laughed, which for him is to silently snort blasts of air through his nose. The culprit sat up in bed to grin with impish victory at the assembled world. But the Wicker Man spoke up, using his Free Man’s prerogative to speak in a normal voice, which sounded like a yell in the muteness of the Building:
THAT FELLER’S GONNA NEED A DOSE OF SALTS, AIN’T HE?
It’s just them beans, Boss, answered Carr, placatingly.
Then I slept, shielding my eyes with my pillow. Once I woke up and saw Carr playing solitaire at the table, the poker game broken up, the gamblers sent to bed. Again I slept until next I heard the cooks and trustees being awakened. They dressed. First the gate and then the door were unlocked, opened, closed and locked again. An hour later the Chain Men were getting their early call so they would have time to put on their pants.
Trying to muffle the noise, they sat on the floor busily working at the involved procedure. At night they always take off their pants in such a way that one leg is turned inside out and pulled over the other. In the morning the whole thing is gradually worked beneath the ankle ring and pulled over the right leg. Then the outer pant leg is pulled down, leaving the other one in place. The left leg is reversed and pulled down over the right foot and then over the chain and then back up the left leg. After they rigged up their harness and strings they went over to the faucet to wash their faces and brush their teeth.
I lay there for ten minutes, drowsy, reluctant to wake up. Yet I couldn’t help but be aware of the tinkle of shackles, the scrape and thud of shoes, the splatter of the water from the faucet. Then the Wicker Man got up and opened the door. I waited. Then he hit the brake drum with the iron bar. Swiftly Carr walked up and down the Building, making sure there were no sleepy heads.
First Bell. Sheets and rolls. First Bell. Let’s go.
The bare heels of the Family hit the floor all at once. It was pandemonium. Beds squeaked and swayed, shoes clumped, toilets flushed and gurgled, the faucet trickled as a crowd of men took their turns. All the beds were made up and personal belongings gathered together to be taken outside and stowed in the lockers. Shoe laces were tied and pockets stowed with the necessities of the day. And then the Family was gathered in a silent crowd in front of the gate, smoking and waiting, Carr blocking the exit with his body, facing the crowd with a belligerent scowl which everyone sleepily ignored.
Outside, the guards had taken their places on the gun platforms. The Wicker Man unlocked the gate, went out on the porch and unlocked the outer door. There was a pause. And then exactly five minutes after the First Bell had rung, there was the sound of the Second Bell. Carr swung the gate and door open and stepped aside as the men poured out in a rushing tumult of clumping feet and rattling chains, their voices