Conceived in Liberty by Howard Fast Read Free Book Online Page B

length of the world. “Two thousand of us went there—the Czar’s prisoners.”
    â€œFrom what land?”
    â€œPoland.”
    â€œI knew a Polish man,” Jacob said. “He died on Brooklyn Heights.”
    â€œYou escaped?” Ely asked curiously.
    â€œI escaped—” He opened his coat and shirt, showed us a cross burnt into his breast. “They branded the Jews—said we made the revolution. But I escaped.”
    I closed my eyes; I tried to see a journey across a world. When I glanced up, the Jew’s head was bent over, his lips moving slowly.
    â€œWhy were you fighting?” Ely said in English.
    The Jew didn’t answer. Kenton said: “Tell us, Ely, why are we fighting? I swear, by God, we’ll be an army of corpses before this winter’s out. I keep saying to myself why—why? I didn’t have no call against the British. I never seen a British man before the war that did me a mite of harm. We had two hundred acres clear, and we would have cleared a thousand two years come. We never paid no taxes. All right, I did it. I was a damn-fool kid. I told my paw there was a sight of Boston men making an army to war on the British. I told him I was going, and he laughed in my face. He said he knew Boston men and he’d seen the British fight. He gave two months before they’d hang Adams and Hancock.”
    â€œWhy’d ye go?” Jacob demanded.
    Kenton put his face in his hands.
    Jacob said, bitterly: “By God—there’s no army to be made outa swine like you.”
    â€œEasy, easy, Jacob,” Ely whispered.
    â€œOn a night like this—Christ was born,” Vandeer said tonelessly. “In the name of liberty you’re ridden with whores and scum. Ye’re a stubborn, hard-necked people, and God’s hand is on you.”
    â€œTo hell with your preaching!” Charley cried.
    Kenton’s woman screamed: “Shut yer dirty mouth! You ain’t no men—ye’re a pack of filthy, rotten beggars!”
    Jacob rose, took two long strides to the door, and plucked his musket from its rack. He faced Kenton’s bunk and said:
    â€œAnother word outa her and I’ll kill her, Kenton! No damned whore can make mock of me!”
    Ely sprang in front of him, pushing the musket to one side. Vandeer said, shrilly:
    â€œIf you need to shed blood for the black hate in you—kill me, Jacob!”
    Kenton’s woman was sobbing hysterically. Ely took Jacob’s musket. In Ely’s hands, Jacob was like a baby, mouth trembling. All the terror of the past week had come to a head in him—and finally burst. Ely led him to his bunk.
    â€œWe’re a long time together, Jacob,” Ely said softly.
    Now there is silence—as if we had used ourselves up for the time. Only the sobbing of Kenton’s woman, and Kenton makes no effort to quiet her. He sits with his head in his hands. The Jew is motionless by the fire.
    We hear the wind outside. A wolf howls—mournfully. I look from face to face, bearded faces with long, uncut hair, men who have lost all pride or consideration for their bodies, men in rags, huddled together for warmth. The women are not women any more. I tell myself that; I have to; otherwise I’ll go insane. I tell myself that there are beautiful, clean women somewhere, beautiful, clean men. I think of a woman’s body the way I used to dream of a woman’s body, white and perfect——
    Kenton’s woman sobs: “We come along with you—you go to hell, but we come along with you.”
    Nobody answers. We listen for something, the way men listen when the silence is deep and lasting. We hear steps outside in the snow—to the door.
    â€œIt’s the German lad,” Ely says. “Why won’t he come in?”
    We wait, and then I get up and fling open the door. A rush of snow, and then a figure stumbles into the room.
    â€œWho the hell are you?”