The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [218]
Ma reached a hand from under the blanket and snapped Ruthie on the cheek with her finger. The little girl went rigid for a moment, and then dissolved into sniffling, quiet crying.
In the sanitary unit Pa and Uncle John sat in adjoining compartments. “Might’s well get in a good las’ one,’’ said Pa. “It’s sure nice. ’Member how the little fellas was so scairt when they flushed ’em the first time?’’
“I wasn’t so easy myself,’’ said Uncle John. He pulled his overalls neatly up around his knees. “I’m gettin’ bad,’’ he said. “I feel sin.’’
“You can’t sin none,’’ said Pa. “You ain’t got no money. Jus’ sit tight. Cos’ you at leas’ two bucks to sin, an’ we ain’t got two bucks amongst us.’’
“Yeah! But I’m a-thinkin’ sin.’’
“Awright. You can think sin for nothin’.’’
“It’s jus’ as bad,’’ said Uncle John.
“It’s a whole hell of a lot cheaper,’’ said Pa.
“Don’t you go makin’ light of sin.’’
“I ain’t. You jus’ go ahead. You always gets sinful jus’ when hell’s a-poppin’.’’
“I know it,’’ said Uncle John. “Always was that way. I never tol’ half the stuff I done.’’
“Well, keep it to yaself.’’
“These here nice toilets gets me sinful.’’
“Go out in the bushes then. Come on, pull up ya pants an’ le’s get some sleep.’’ Pa pulled his overall straps in place and snapped the buckle. He flushed the toilet and watched thoughtfully while the water whirled in the bowl.
It was still dark when Ma roused her camp. The low night lights shone through the open doors of the sanitary unit. From the tents along the road came the assorted snores of the campers.
Ma said, “Come on, roll out. We got to be on our way. Day’s not far off.’’ She raised the screechy shade of the lantern and lighted the wick. “Come on, all of you.’’
The floor of the tent squirmed into slow action. Blankets and comforts were thrown back and sleepy eyes squinted blindly at the light. Ma slipped on her dress over the underclothes she wore to bed. “We got no coffee,’’ she said. “I got a few biscuits. We can eat ’em on the road. Jus’ get up now, an’ we’ll load the truck. Come on now. Don’t make no noise. Don’ wanta wake the neighbors.’’
It was a few moments before they were fully aroused. “Now don’ you get away,’’ Ma warned the children. The family dressed. The men pulled down the tarpaulin and loaded up the truck. “Make it nice an’ flat,’’ Ma warned them. They piled the mattress on top of the load and bound the tarpaulin in place over its ridge pole.
“Awright, Ma,’’ said Tom. “She’s ready.’’
Ma held a plate of cold biscuits in her hand. “Awright. Here. Each take one. It’s all we got.’’
Ruthie and Winfield grabbed their biscuits and climbed up on the load. They covered themselves with a blanket and went back to sleep, still holding the cold hard biscuits in their hands. Tom got into the driver’s seat and stepped on the starter. It buzzed a little, and then stopped.
“Goddamn you, Al!’’ Tom cried. “You let the battery run down.’’
Al blustered, “How the hell was I gonna keep her up if I ain’t got gas to run her?’’
Tom chuckled suddenly. “Well, I don’ know how, but it’s your fault. You got to crank her.’’
“I tell you it ain’t my fault.’’
Tom got out and found the crank under the seat. “It’s my fault,’’ he said.
“Gimme that crank.’’ Al seized it. “Pull down the spark so she don’t take my arm off.’’
“O.K. Twist her tail.’’
Al labored at the crank, around and around. The engine caught, spluttered, and roared as Tom choked the car delicately. He raised the spark and reduced the throttle.
Ma climbed in beside him. “We woke up ever’body in the camp,’’ she said.
“They’ll go to sleep again.’’
Al climbed in on the other side. “Pa ’n’ Uncle John got up top,’’ he said. “Goin’ to sleep again.’’
Tom drove toward the main gate. The watchman came out of the office and played his flashlight on the truck. “Wait a minute.’’
“What ya want?’’
“You checkin’ out?’’
“Sure.’’
“Well, I got to cross you off.’’
“O.K.”
“Know which way you’re goin’?’’
“Well, we’re gonna try up north.’’
“Well, good luck,’’ said the watchman.
“Same to you.