The poor wretches, depraved and plundered through drink and policy-gambling, are driven into crime. They rob and steal and debase themselves for money with which to buy rum and policies, and sooner or later the prison or death removes the greater number of them from their vile companions. But drifting toward this fatal locality under the attraction of affinity, or lured thither by harpies in search of new supplies of human victims to repair the frightful waste perpetually made, the region keeps up its dense population, and the work of destroying human souls goes on. It is an awful thing to contemplate. Thousands of men and women, boys and girls, once innocent as the babes upon whom Christ laid his hand in blessing, are drawn into this whirlpool of evil every year, and few come out except by the way of prison or death.
It was toward this locality that Pinky Swett directed her feet, after parting with Mrs. Bray. Darkness was beginning to settle down as she turned off from one of the most populous streets, crowded at the time by citizens on their way to quiet and comfortable homes, few if any of whom had ever turned aside to look upon and get knowledge of the world or crime and wretchedness so near at hand, but girdled in and concealed from common observation.
Down a narrow street she turned from the great thoroughfare, walking with quick steps, and shivering a little as the penetrating east wind sent a chill of dampness through the thin shawl she drew closer and closer about her shoulders. Nothing could be in stronger contrast than the rows of handsome dwellings and stores that lined the streets through which she had just passed, and the forlorn, rickety, unsightly and tumble-down houses amid which she now found herself.
Pinky had gone only a little way when the sharp cries of a child cut the air suddenly, the shrill, angry voice of a woman and the rapid fall of lashes mingled with the cries. The child begged for mercy in tones of agony, but the loud voice, uttering curses and imprecations, and the cruel blows, ceased not. Pinky stopped and shivered. She felt the pain of these blows, in her quickly-aroused sympathy, almost as much as if they had been falling on her own person. Opposite to where she had paused was a one-story frame house, or enclosed shed, as unsightly without as a pig-pen, and almost as filthy within. It contained two small rooms with very low ceilings. The only things in these rooms that could be called furniture were an old bench, two chairs from which the backs had been broken, a tin cup black with smoke and dirt, two or three tin pans in the same condition, some broken crockery and an iron skillet. Pinky stood still for a moment, shivering, as we have said. She knew what the blows and the curses and the cries of pain meant; she had heard them before. A depraved and drunken woman and a child ten years old, who might or might not be her daughter, lived there. The child was sent out every day to beg or steal, and if she failed to bring home a certain sum of money, was cruelly beaten by the woman. Almost every day the poor child was cut with lashes, often on the bare flesh; almost every day her shrieks rang out from the miserable hovel. But there was no one to interfere, no one to save her from the smarting blows, no one to care what she suffered.
Pinky Swett could stand it no longer. She had often noticed the ragged child, with her pale, starved face and large, wistful eyes, passing in and out of this miserable womans den, sometimes going to the liquor-shops and sometimes to the nearest policy-office to spend for her mother, if such the woman really was, the money she had gained by begging.
With a sudden impulse, as a deep wail and a more piteous cry for mercy smote upon her ears, Pinky sprang across the street and into the hovel. The sight that met her eyes left no hesitation in her mind. Holding up with one strong arm the naked body of the poor childshe had drawn the clothes over her headthe infuriated woman was raining down blows from a short piece of rattan upon the quivering flesh, already covered with welts and bruises.
Devil! cried Pinky as she rushed upon this fiend in human shape and snatched the little girl from her arm. Do you want to kill the child?
She might almost as well have assaulted a tigress.
The woman was larger, stronger, more desperate and more thoroughly given over to evil passions than she. To thwart her in anything was to rouse her into a fury. A moment she stood in surprise and bewilderment; in the next, and ere Pinky had time to put herself on guard, she had sprung upon her with a passionate cry that sounded more like that of a wild beast than anything human. Clutching her by the throat with one hand, and with the other tearing the child from her grasp, she threw the frightened little thing across the room.
Devil, ha! screamed the woman; devil! and she tightened her grasp on Pinkys throat, at the same time striking her in the face with her clenched fist.
Like a war-horse that snuffs the battle afar off and rushes to the conflict, so rushed the inhabitants of that foul neighborhood to the spot from whence had come to their ears the familiar and not unwelcome sound of strife. Even before Pinky had time to shake off her assailant, the door of the hovel was darkened by a screen of eager faces. And such faces! How little of Gods image remained in them to tell of their divine origination!bloated and scarred, ashen pale and wasted, hollow-eyed and red-eyed, disease looking out from all, yet all lighted up with the keenest interest and expectancy.
Outside, the crowd swelled with a marvelous rapidity. Every cellar and room and garret, every little alley and hidden rookery, hawks nest and wrens nest, poured out its unseemly denizens, white and black, old and young, male and female, the child of three years old, keen, alert and self-protective, running to see the row side by side with the toothless crone of seventy; or most likely passing her on the way. Thieves, beggars, pick-pockets, vile women, rag-pickers and the like, with the harpies who prey upon them, all were there to enjoy the show.
Within, a desperate fight was going on between Pinky Swett and the woman from whose hands she had attempted to rescue the childa fight in which Pinky was getting the worst of it. One garment after another was torn from her person, until little more than a single one remained.
Heres the police! look out! was cried at this juncture.
Who cares for the police? Let em come, boldly retorted the woman. I havent done nothing; its her thats come in drunk and got up a row.
Pushing the crowd aside, a policeman entered the hovel.
Here she is! cried the woman, pointing toward Pinky, from whom she had sprung back the moment she heard the word police. She came in here drunk and got up a row. Im a decent woman, as dont meddle with nobody. But shes awful when she gets drunk. Just look at herbeen tearing her clothes off!
At this there was a shout of merriment from the crowd who had witnessed the fight.
Good for old Sal! shes one of em! Cant get ahead of old Sal, drunk or sober! and like expressions were shouted by one and another.
Poor Pinky, nearly stripped of her clothing, and with a great bruise swelling under one of her eyes, bewildered and frightened at the aspect of things around her, could make no acceptable defence.
She ran over and pitched into Sal, so she did! I saw her! She made the fight, she did! testified one of the crowd; and acting on this testimony and his own judgment of the case, the policeman said roughly, as he laid his hand on Pinky.
Pick up your duds and come along.
Pinky lifted her torn garments from the dirty floor and gathered them about her person as best she could, the crowd jeering all the time. A pin here and there, furnished by some of the women, enabled her to get them into a sort of shape and adjustment. Then she tried to explain the affair to the policeman, but he would not listen.
She ran over and pitched into Sal, so she did! I saw her! She made the fight, she did! testified one of the crowd; and acting on this testimony and his own judgment of the case, the policeman said roughly, as he laid his hand on Pinky.
Pick up your duds and come along.
Pinky lifted her torn garments from the dirty floor and gathered them about her person as best she could, the crowd jeering all the time. A pin here and there, furnished by some of the women, enabled her to get them into a sort of shape and adjustment. Then she tried to explain the affair to the policeman, but he would not listen.
Come! he said, sternly.
What are you going to do with me? she asked, not moving from where she stood.
Lock you up, replied the policeman. So come along.
Whats the matter here? demanded a tall, strongly-built woman, pressing forward. She spoke with a foreign accent, and in a tone of command. The motley crowd, above whom she towered, gave way for her as she approached. Everything about the woman showed her to be superior in mind and moral force to the unsightly wretches about her. She had the fair skin, blue eyes and light hair of her nation. Her features were strong, but not masculine. You saw in them no trace of coarse sensuality or vicious indulgence.
Heres Norah! heres the queen! shouted a voice from the crowd.
Whats the matter here? asked the woman as she gained an entrance to the hovel.
Going to lock up Pinky Swett, said a ragged little girl who had forced her way in.
What for? demanded the woman, speaking with the air of one in authority.
Cause she wouldnt let old Sal beat Kit half to death, answered the child.
Ho! Sals a devil and Pinkys a fool to meddle with her. Then turning to the policeman, who still had his hand on the girl, she said,
Whatre you goin to do, John?
Goin to lock her up. Shes drunk an bin a-fightin.
Youre not goin to do any such thing.
Im not drunk, and its a lie if anybody says so, broke in Pinky. I tried to keep this devil from beating the life out of poor little Kit, and she pitched into me and tore my clothes off. Thats whats the matter.
The policeman quietly removed his hand from Pinkys shoulder, and glanced toward the woman named Sal, and stood as if waiting orders.
Better lock her up, said the queen, as she had been called. Sal snarled like a fretted wild beast.
Its awful, the way she beats poor Kit, chimed in the little girl who had before spoken against her. If I was Kit, Id run away, so I would.
Ill wring your neck off, growled Sal, in a fierce undertone, making a dash toward the girl, and swearing frightfully. But the child shrank to the side of the policeman.
If you lay a finger on Kit to-night, said the queen, Ill have her taken away, and you locked up into the the bargain.
Sal responded with another snarl.
Come. The queen moved toward the door. Pinky followed, the policeman offering no resistance. A few minutes later, and the miserable crowd of depraved human beings had been absorbed again into cellar and garret, hovel and rookery, to take up the thread of their evil and sensual lives, and to plot wickedness, and to prey upon and deprave each otherto dwell as to their inner and real lives among infernals, to be in hell as to their spirits, while their bodies yet remained upon the earth.
Pinky and her rescuer passed down the street for a short distance until they came to another that was still narrower. On each side dim lights shone from the houses, and made some revelation of what was going on within. Here liquor was sold, and there policies. Here was a junk-shop, and there an eating-saloon where for six cents you could make a meal out of the cullings from beggars baskets. Not very tempting to an ordinary appetite was the display inside, nor agreeable to the nostrils the odors that filled the atmosphere. But hunger like the swines, that was not over-nice, satisfied itself amid these disgusting conglomerations, and kept off starvation.
Along this wretched street, with scarcely an apology for a sidewalk, moved Pinky and the queen, until they reached a small two-story frame house that presented a different aspect from the wretched tenements amid which it stood. It was clean upon the outside, and had, as contrasted with its neighbors, an air of superiority. This was the queens residence. Inside, all was plain and homely, but clean and in order.
The excitement into which Pinky had been thrown was nearly over by this time.
Youve done me a good turn, Norah, she said as the door closed upon them, and Ill not soon forget you.
Ugh! ejaculated Norah as she looked into Pinkys bruised face; Sals hit you square in the eye; itll be black as yr boot by morning. Ill get some cold water.
A basin of cold water was brought, and Pinky held a wet cloth to the swollen spot for a long time, hoping thereby not only to reduce the swelling, but to prevent discoloration.
Yr a fool to meddle with Sal, said Norah as she set the basin of water before Pinky.
Why dont you meddle with her? Why do you let her beat poor little Kit the way she does? demanded Pinky.
Norah shrugged her shoulders, and answered with no more feeling in her voice than if she had been speaking of inanimate things:
Shes got to keep Kit up to her work.
Up to her work!
Yes; thats just it. Kits lazy and cheatsbuys cakes and candies; and Sal has to come down on her; its the way, you know. If Sal didnt come down sharp on her all the while, Kit wouldnt bring her ten cents a day. They all have to do itso much a day or a lickin; and a little lickin isnt any usegot to most kill some of em. Were used to it in here. Hark!
The screams of a child in pain rang out wildly, the sounds coming from across the narrow street. Quick, hard strokes of a lash were heard at the same time. Pinky turned a little pale.
Only Mother Quig, said Norah, with an indifferent air; she has to do it most every nightno getting along any other way with Tom. It beats all how much he can stand.
Oh, Norah, wont she never stop? cried Pinky, starting up. I cant bear it a minute longer.
Shut yr ears. Youve got to, answered the woman, with some impatience in her voice. Tom has to be kept to his work as well as the rest of em. Half the fuss hes making is put on, anyhow; he doesnt mind a beating any more than a horse. I know his hollers. Theres Flanagans Nell getting it now, added Norah as the cries and entreaties of another child were heard. She drew herself up and listened, a slight shade of concern drifting across her face.
A long, agonizing wail shivered through the air.
Nells Sick, and cant do her work. The woman rose as she spoke. I saw her goin off to-day, and told Flanagan shed better keep her at home.
Saying this, Norah went out quickly, Pinky following. With head erect and mouth set firmly, the queen strode across the street and a little way down the pavement, to the entrance of a cellar, from which the cries and sounds of whipping came. Down the five or six rotten and broken steps she plunged, Pinky close after her.
Stop! shouted Norah, in a tone of command.
Instantly the blows ceased, and the cries were hushed.
Youll be hanged for murder if you dont take care, said Norah. Whats Nell been doin?
Doin, the slut! ejaculated the woman, a short, bloated, revolting creature, with scarcely anything human in her face. Doin, did ye say? Its nothin shes been doin, the lazy, trapsing huzzy! Whos that intrudin herself in here? she added fiercely, as she saw Pinky, making at the same time a movement toward the girl. Get out o here, or Ill spile yr pictur!