River Odyssey (17 page)

Of course he wasn’t like me. Why would he be like me? We weren’t the same person.

I saw a group of men collect outside the door of the shop nearest the ship. I was pretty sure it was the same group I had seen on Saturday. My heart started to pound in my chest. Why was I so nervous? I took a deep breath and told myself to calm down. I hadn’t come all this way to turn around now.

All of the men were bigger than me—not much taller, but bigger. They were heavier, stronger. They moved with confidence mostly, though I couldn’t tell if it were the kind of confidence that ran on the surface or ran deep. And I knew the difference. Ziegfried had the kind of confidence that ran deep. So did Sheba.

There was a young man standing next to an older man and kind of hanging on to him the way a young dog will hang on to an older dog. His name was Bim. I saw it on his jacket. He was a little taller, thicker and older than me. When the older man laughed, he laughed too. But he didn’t show any confidence at all. Something about him made me glad I wasn’t choosing a life here.

When I walked up to the group, they stopped talking. They stood with cigarettes in their hands and stared at me. The young man jumped right at me. He was unfriendly.

“What do
you
want?”

I didn’t answer. I knew he wasn’t the one in charge. If I talked to him first, I wouldn’t get anywhere. The older men wouldn’t respect me if I spoke to him first.

“Can we help you, son?” said an older man. He sounded kind. “Looking for work?”

I nodded and took my time answering. “Yup.”

“There’s no work here for you,” snapped Bim.

I ignored him. I looked at the man beside him, who was staring at me but not saying anything. Was he the man who had danced the jig? Was he my father? I took a deep breath.

“What kind of work are you looking for? Have you got any experience?” said the kind man. His name was Hugh. It was sewn onto his jacket too. The other men weren’t wearing their jackets.

“Some. I can sharpen tools, clean engines, cut glass and metal.”

“Big deal,” said Bim quietly.

“Where did you work last?” said Hugh.

“I’m working on the east dock.”

“You’re working now?”

“Yes.”

“Then why did you come down here?”

“I finished sharpening all the tools over there. Now I’m sitting around waiting for them to get dull.”

Everyone laughed except Bim. The man beside him threw his cigarette butt to the ground and stepped on it. “Where are you from?”

“Newfoundland.”

“I figured. Where in Newfoundland?”

“The north shore.”

“The north shore where?”

“All over, kind of.”

“Oh yah? What’s your name?”

“Peddle.”

His eyes opened wide. “Is that right? Lots of Peddles in Newfoundland.”

“Yup.”

“There’s no work for you here,” repeated Bim.

The man beside him opened his mouth again. “I don’t think… ”

“We’ve got some saws and chisels that could use a sharpening,” said Hugh. “Come in and show us what you can do.”

“Hey!… I sharpened those already,” said Bim defensively.

Hugh looked as if he had forgotten that. “Oh. Yah. Well, they can always use a little more attention. A saw can never be too sharp.”

Hugh winked at me. Bim made an ugly face. “I already sharpened those,” he said under his breath.

Why was he so unfriendly? Was he afraid I would take his job? I wouldn’t. I wasn’t planning on staying around long enough to take anyone’s job. Anyway, that was his problem, not mine.

I followed Hugh inside to a tool room similar to the one in the other shop, except that this one didn’t have a window. Some of the tools were reasonably sharp and some were pretty beaten up. I picked up a saw that looked like a row of broken shark’s teeth. Maybe someone had tried to cut concrete with it.

“Some of these are beyond saving. Just do what you can.”

Hugh had a tough looking face but it would break into the warmest smile. It made me think that really kind people were a little bit like lighthouses at sea; they showed you a way through the storm. “I’d ahh … give young Bim there a wide berth if I were you. He hasn’t been here long and he’s carrying a whole pack of troubles of his own. Sometimes they send us young fellas from the correctional centre. Sometimes it works out just great and sometimes it don’t.”

“I understand. Thank you. I will.”

I put Hollie down and got to work. It was strange beyond words to know that my father might be in the same building, maybe working at an industrial lathe.

Hugh came back in a few hours to tell me it was time for a break. He picked up two saws I had sharpened, drew his fingers along the points of their teeth, pulled his glasses from his pocket, put them on and looked down the rows of teeth from base to tip. He nodded with approval. “Yup. You know what you’re doing. Good workers from Newfoundland.”

He looked at me and lowered his voice. “You look like Buddy.”

He pointed with his face in the direction of the room where the industrial lathes were. “Are you related?”

Was Buddy the man who had danced the jig and asked me about Newfoundland? I didn’t think he looked like me.

“I don’t think so.”

“You don’t
think
so?”

“No.”

“But you don’t
know
so?”

Hugh reminded me of Sheba in a way. He seemed to understand things without needing them explained, and was kind.

“No. I guess not.”

“I see. Does he know?”

“I don’t know.”

“Planning on asking him?”

“Maybe. I’m not sure. I’m not planning on staying around.”

“Oh. I see. You just want to find somebody, then fly.”

“More or less.”

“I understand.”

I felt that he really did.

“Maybe Buddy knows already. But don’t count on him coming out and telling you.”

“I won’t.”

“All the way from Newfoundland, eh? How did you get here, hitchhike?”

“Something
like that.”

I wanted to be honest with him but I couldn’t tell him about the sub. When I went outside, the men were standing around smoking. Smoking was strictly forbidden around industrial equipment, so the men would smoke outside. Buddy wasn’t there now. Bim came right over to me. He couldn’t get his words out quickly enough. “Do you speak French?”

“No.”

“Then what are you doing in Quebec?”

I didn’t answer right away. I couldn’t figure out what his problem was.

“I’m not planning on staying in Quebec.”

“That’s good.”

Suddenly Buddy came out. He came right over to Bim and he looked angry. “Did you shut off the press?”

“Yah. Of course I did.”

“No you didn’t.”

“I did! I know I did.”

“Then how come it’s still running?”

“I dunno, but I turned it off. I know I did.”

Buddy shook his head angrily. He didn’t believe him. He looked at Bim as if he were worthless. I felt sorry for him. Buddy’s accusation took the spirit out of him like a hole in a balloon.

When I was finished for the day, I went out the door closest to Buddy’s work area. He frowned when he saw me coming. I didn’t know if he was my father. I didn’t know if he knew either. Probably not. I almost didn’t care because he wasn’t very nice. If he didn’t feel like talking, then, neither did I.

“Peddle!”

“Yah?”

“You can cut glass?”

“Yes.”

“Where’d you learn to do that?”

“In a shop.”

“In Newfoundland?”

“Yes.”

“That’s a useful skill.”

He reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes and went towards the door. I followed him out.

“Where was the shop?”

“Uhh … outside of Grand Falls.”

“Grand Falls?”

That wasn’t exactly true but it was close enough. “Yah.”

I wished he would stop asking me questions. Suddenly Seaweed dropped out of the sky, landed on the edge of the pier and squawked at me. He wanted a snack. Buddy reached down, picked up a stone and threw it at him. The stone missed by a foot and Seaweed flew away.

“Don’t!” I shouted.

“What’s your problem? It’s just a seagull. They’re a nuisance.”

“I like them. They’re smart.”

He rolled his eyes at me, then looked more closely. “What tools are you carrying on your back anyway? I’ve never seen you take that bag off.”

“I’m not carrying tools in it.”

Now he was curious. “So, what’s in the bag?”

“My dog.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

I shook my head.

“Lemme see.”

I pulled the bag around to my front and opened it. He looked inside. Hollie stared up at him, wagging his tail. Buddy burst out laughing. “That’s not a dog, that’s a rat! Why don’t you get yourself a real dog?”

I shut the bag and swung it around my back.

“Ah, don’t be like that. Can’t you take a joke?”

Not from you, I thought. “I’ve got to go.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t be like that. Come out and have a beer with us. Be a man!”

“Maybe another time.”

I turned to leave.

“Okay, Peddle. But remember: the dockyard’s a place for real men, not animal lovers.”

Yah, well, real men don’t throw stones at seagulls, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud.

I wished I had.

As I turned the corner, went down the long side of the building and crossed the back alley, Bim was waiting for me.

“YOU THINK YOU’RE
something just because you can sharpen tools, don’t you?”

Bim was standing in front of me, blocking my way. He looked like a wild animal. I knew that whatever was making him so angry really had nothing to do with me. But that didn’t matter. He had chosen to turn his anger on me and nothing I could say was going to change that. It did occur to me to offer to show him how to sharpen tools properly, and I might have if he wasn’t being such a jerk. “What do you want?”

“I don’t like you,” he said.

I had been taught that a bully is really just a coward. It’s fear that drives a bully, fear that turns into anger that he then takes out on somebody else. And if the bully can pass that fear on to somebody else, especially somebody smaller, then he might feel a little better for a while. But it only works if the other person accepts the fear. If he doesn’t, the bully has to keep it. That’s why it is so important to stand up to a bully. That’s what I was taught by my grandfather, and by Ziegfried.

But it wasn’t easy.

Bim came right towards me. “I said, I don’t like you.”

“Why? What did I ever do to you?”

“You’re here aren’t you?”

“Yah, but I’m not staying. I’m probably leaving tomorrow.”

“Yah, well you shouldn’t have come in the first place.”

I was hoping to remove Bim’s excuse for being mad at me. But he was like a wind-up toy that had been wound too far. He needed to let out all that anger and had already made up his mind that it was going to be on me. He jumped forward and pushed me. I fell backwards, lost my balance and fell, but picked myself up quickly. I checked to see that Hollie was okay. He was still riding on my back.

“I don’t want to fight you, Bim.”

“Well that’s too bad then, isn’t it?”

I pulled the strap over my head so that I could set the bag down on the ground if I had too. Bim lunged forward really quickly, grabbed the strap out of my hand and threw the bag as far as he could.

“Stop!”

I ran for Hollie, but Bim caught me, grabbed me around the neck and threw me to the ground. He was stronger than me.

“Stop it!
Why are you doing this? I never did anything to you!”

He was really crazy now. Nothing I said was going to make any difference. I was trying to think of what to do but everything was happening so fast. If I were all by myself, probably I would try to run away. But there was no way I could outrun Bim with Hollie on my back. And there was no way I was leaving without Hollie.

I stood up. I would have to fight him, even though he was bigger and stronger than me. Then he did something that really scared me. He picked up a board, a broken and jagged two-by-four. A fist fight was one thing. You might get some bruises and a black eye, but getting hit by a board could cause a serious injury.

Now I felt desperate to protect myself. I rushed to the pile of debris closest to me. My hand fell on a long thin piece of pipe. It was gas pipe, about three quarters of an inch thick. When I pulled it free, it was about seven feet long.

It was never my intention to strike Bim with the pipe, only to defend myself. But he rushed at me, yelling at the top of his lungs, and he swung the board at me. It happened so fast, all I could do was duck. And then, I swung the pipe around in an arc, as hard as I could, but I aimed it low, close to the ground. I never wanted to hit him on the head. I never wanted to hurt him, only to defend myself. The pipe caught him on his shins, and he went down. And he cried.

He coiled up in a ball with his hands around his shins and he bawled like a baby. It must have been really painful. I dropped the pipe and ran over to Hollie. I opened up the bag and ran my hand over his head. “Are you okay, Hollie?”