Cloth

Characteristics of the hall from the story on the banks of Sacramento. Jack London - on the shores of Sacramento

Fourteen-year-old Little Jerry, the son of a sailor, Old Jerry, sings a sailor's song and picks up an anchor to set sail for the port of Frisco. He has never seen the sea and does not know what it looks like, but two hundred feet away from him the Sacramento River is raging.

The boy's father makes money by transporting people across the abyss above the river in trolleys. Old Jerry's brother dies, and his father goes to San Francisco to talk to a lawyer, leaving his son in charge. In the absence of the father, bad weather strikes - wind and heavy rain. At this time, farmers Mr. and Mrs. Spillen arrive; they urgently need to get to the other side - Mrs. Spillen’s father was crushed in the mine. The couple are afraid of not being able to make it to the dying man, they persuade Jerry Jr. to take them to the other side.

The kid starts the mechanism, the husband and wife begin the crossing. Suddenly the trolley stops in the middle of the track and hovers over the abyss. The boy looks for a fault in the drum on one side, runs to the other side and checks the mechanism drum there, but finds nothing. Spillen, meanwhile, checks the mechanism of the trolley in which he and his wife are. This can only mean one thing: the cause of the breakdown is in another, empty trolley.

The boy takes with him a rope, a wrench and a small iron rod. Having somehow reached the trolley hanging over the abyss, he finds a problem - one wheel of the trolley has jumped off the cable - and fixes it with the help of a nail that accidentally ended up in his pocket. The boy accomplishes a feat - he saves people, and he himself remains alive.

Summary of London's story "On the Shores of Sacramento"

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The wind rushes - ho-ho-hew! –
Straight to California.
Sacramento is a rich region:
Gold is raked - with a shovel!

A thin boy in a thin, piercing voice sang this sea song, which sailors in all parts of the world chant when they turn the winch, weighing anchor to move to the port of Frisco. He was an ordinary boy who had never even seen the sea, but just two hundred feet away from him - just down the cliff - the Sacramento River was raging. Little Jerry was his name because there was old Jerry, his father; It was from him that the Kid heard this song and from him he inherited bright red cowlicks, perky blue eyes and very white skin strewn with freckles.
Old Jerry was a sailor, he sailed the seas for a good half of his life, and a song for a sailor just begs to be spoken. But one day, in some Asian port, when he, along with twenty other sailors, sang, exhausted over the damned winch, the words of this song for the first time made him think seriously. Finding himself in San Francisco, he said goodbye to his ship and the sea and went to look with his own eyes at the shores of Sacramento.
It was then that he saw gold. He was hired to work at the Golden Dream Mine and proved eminently useful in constructing a cableway two hundred feet above the river.
Then this road remained under his supervision. He looked after the cables, kept them in good condition, loved them, and soon became an indispensable worker at the Golden Dream mine. And then he fell in love with pretty Margaret Kelly, but she very soon left him and little Jerry, who was just beginning to walk, and fell into a deep sleep in a small cemetery, among the large, harsh pines.
Old Jerry never returned to naval service. He lived near his cable car and gave all the love his soul was capable of to thick steel cables and little Jerry. Dark days came for the Golden Dream mine, but even then the old man remained in the service of the Company - to guard the abandoned enterprise.
However, this morning he was nowhere to be seen. Only little Jerry sat on the porch and sang an old sailor song. He prepared breakfast for himself and had already managed to finish it, and now he went out to look at the world. Not far away, about twenty paces from him, stood a huge steel drum, around which an endless metal cable was wound. Next to the drum stood a carefully secured ore cart. Having followed with his eyes the dizzying flight of steel cables thrown high above the river, little Jerry distinguished another drum and another trolley far away on the other bank.
This structure was powered simply by gravity: the trolley moved, carried away by its own weight, and at the same time an empty trolley was moving from the opposite bank. When the loaded car was emptied, and the empty car was loaded with ore, the whole thing was repeated again, repeated many, many hundreds and thousands of times since old Jerry became the superintendent of the cableway.
Little Jerry stopped singing when he heard footsteps approaching. A tall man in a blue shirt, with a rifle on his shoulder, came out of the pine forest. It was Hall, a watchman at the Yellow Dragon Mine, located about a mile away up the Sacramento River, where there was also a road to the other side.
- Great, Baby! - he shouted. -What are you doing here all alone?
“And I’m the boss here now,” answered Little Jerry in the most casual tone possible, as if it was not the first time for him to be alone. - Father, you know, left.
-Where did you go? asked Hall.
- In San Francisco. He left yesterday evening. His brother died, somewhere in the Old World. So he went to talk to the lawyer. Will be back tomorrow evening.
Jerry laid out all this with the proud knowledge that he had a great responsibility - to personally guard the Golden Dream mine. It was clear at the same time that he was extremely happy about this wonderful adventure - the opportunity to live completely alone on this cliff above the river and cook his own breakfast, lunch and dinner.
“Well, look, be careful,” Hall advised him, “don’t even think about fooling around with the cables.” I'm off to see if I can shoot a deer in Kinky Cow Canyon.
“As if it weren’t raining,” Jerry said sedately.
- What do I care? Is it scary to get wet? – Hall laughed and turned and disappeared between the trees.
Jerry's prediction about rain came true. Around ten o'clock the pine trees creaked, swayed, groaned, the glass in the windows rattled, the rain began to pour in in long slanting streams. At half past twelve Jerry lit a fire in the hearth and, as soon as twelve struck, sat down to dinner.
“Today, of course, we won’t have to go for a walk,” he decided, having thoroughly washed and put away the dishes after eating. And he thought: “How wet Hall must have been! And did he manage to shoot a deer?”
About one o'clock in the afternoon there was a knock on the door, and when Jerry opened it, a man and a woman rushed into the room, as if they had been forced by the wind. It was Mr. and Mrs. Spillen, farmers who lived in a secluded valley about twelve miles from the river.
-Where is Hall? – Spillane asks, out of breath, abruptly.
Jerry noticed that the farmer was excited about something and was in a hurry to get somewhere, and Mrs. Spillen seemed very upset.
She was a thin, completely faded woman who had worked a lot in her lifetime; dull, hopeless work left a heavy stamp on her face. The same hard life bent her husband's back, twisted his hands and covered his hair with the dry ashes of early gray hair.
– He went hunting, to the canyon of the “Long-legged Cow”. Do you need to go to the other side or something?
The woman began to sob quietly, and Spillen let out an exclamation expressing extreme annoyance. He went to the window. Jerry stood next to him and also looked out the window, towards the cable car; the cables were almost invisible behind the thick veil of rain.
Usually, residents of the surrounding villages were transported through Sacramento by the Yellow Dragon cable car. There was a small fee for the crossing, from which the Yellow Dragon Company paid Hall's salary.
“We need to get to the other side, Jerry,” Spillane said. “Her father,” he pointed his finger at his crying wife, “was crushed to death at the mine, in the Clover Leaf mine.” There was an explosion there. They say he won't survive. And they just let us know.
Jerry felt his heart skip a beat. He understood that Spillen wanted to cross the cables of the Golden Dream, but without old Jerry he could not decide to take such a step, because no passengers were carried along their road, and it had been inactive for a long time.
“Maybe Hall will come soon,” said the boy. Spillen shook his head.
-Where is father? - he asked.
“San Francisco,” Jerry answered briefly.
With a hoarse groan, Spillen slammed his fist into his palm furiously. His wife was sobbing louder and louder, and Jerry heard her lamenting: “Oh, we won’t make it, we won’t make it, he’ll die...”
The boy felt that he himself was about to cry; he stood indecisive, not knowing what to do. But Spillen decided for him.
“Listen, Baby,” he said in a tone that allowed no objections, “my wife and I need to cross your road at all costs.” Can you help us with this matter - launch this thing?
Jerry involuntarily backed away, as if he had been asked to touch something prohibited.
“I’d better go and see if Hall is back,” he said timidly.
- And if not? Jerry hesitated again.
“If anything happens, I’m responsible for everything.” You see, Baby, we desperately need to get to the other side. Jerry nodded hesitantly. “And there’s no point in waiting for Hall,” Spillane continued, “you yourself understand that he won’t be returning from the Kinky Cow Canyon any time soon.” So let's go, start the drum.
“No wonder Mrs. Spillen looked so frightened when we helped her climb into the trolley,” Jerry involuntarily thought, looking down into the abyss that now seemed completely bottomless.
The far shore, located at a distance of seven hundred feet, was not at all visible through the downpour, the wisps of clouds driven by the violent wind, the furious foam and spray.
And the cliff on which they stood went like a sheer wall straight into the seething darkness, and it seemed that from the steel cables down there was not two hundred feet, but at least a mile.
- Well, are you ready? – Jerry asked.
- Let's! – Spillen shouted at the top of his lungs to drown out the howling of the wind.
He sat down in the trolley next to his wife and took her hand.
Jerry didn't like it.
– You’ll have to hold on with both hands: is the wind throwing you around a lot? - he shouted.
The husband and wife immediately released their arms and firmly grabbed the edges of the trolley, and Jerry carefully released the brake lever. The drum slowly spun, the endless cable began to unwind, and the trolley slowly moved into the airy abyss, clinging with its running wheels to the stationary rail cable stretched above.
This was not the first time Jerry had used the trolley. But until now he had to do this only under the supervision of his father. He carefully adjusted the speed using the brake lever. It was necessary to brake, because the trolley was swaying violently due to the frantic gusts of wind, and before completely disappearing behind the wall of rain, it tilted so much that it almost turned its living cargo into the abyss.
After this, Jerry could judge the movement of the trolley only by the movement of the cable. He watched very carefully as the cable unwound from the drum.
“Three hundred feet...” he whispered, as the marks on the cable passed, “three hundred and fifty... four hundred... four hundred...”
The cable stopped. Jerry pulled the brake lever, but the cable did not move. The boy grabbed the cable with both hands and pulled it towards himself, trying to move it from its place. No! Something has clearly stalled. But he could not guess where exactly, and the trolley was not visible. He looked up and could hardly discern an empty trolley in the air, which should have been moving towards him at the same speed as the trolley with the cargo was moving away. She was about two hundred and fifty feet away from him. This meant that somewhere in the gray darkness, at an altitude of two hundred feet above the boiling river and at a distance of two hundred and fifty feet from the other bank, Spillen and his wife, stuck on their way, were hanging in the air.
Three times Jerry called out to them at the top of his lungs, but his voice was drowned in the furious roar of the storm. While he was frantically turning over in his mind what to do, the quickly moving clouds above the river suddenly thinned and broke, and for a moment he saw the swollen Sacramento below and a trolley with people hanging in the air. Then the clouds came together again, and it became even darker over the river than before.
The boy carefully examined the drum, but did not find any problems with it. Apparently, something is wrong with the drum on the other side. It was scary to imagine how these two were hanging over the abyss in the middle of a roaring storm, swaying in a fragile trolley, and not knowing why the eye suddenly stopped. And just think that they will have to hang like this until he crosses to the other side along the ropes of the “Yellow Dragon” and gets to the ill-fated drum, because of which all this happened!
But then Jerry remembered that in the closet where the tools were stored there was a block and ropes, and he rushed after them as fast as he could. He quickly attached a block to the cable and began to pull - he pulled with all his might, so that his arms were straight off his shoulders, and his muscles seemed about to burst. However, the cable did not budge. Now there was nothing else left to do but get over to the other side.
Jerry had already gotten wet to the bone, so now he ran headlong towards the Yellow Dragon, not even noticing the rain. The wind urged him on, and it was easy to run, although he was worried by the thought that he would have to do without Hall’s help and there would be no one to slow down the trolley.
He built himself a brake from a strong rope, which he looped around a stationary cable.
The wind rushed at him with furious force, whistled, roared in his ears, rocking and tossing the trolley, and little Jerry imagined even more clearly what it was like for those two now - Spillane and his wife. This gave him courage. Having crossed safely, he climbed up the slope and, having difficulty staying on his feet from the gusts of wind, but still trying to run, headed towards the drum of the “Golden Dream”.
Having examined it, the Kid was horrified to discover that the drum was in perfect order. Everything is fine on both this and the other end. Where did it get stuck in this case? No other way than in the middle!
The trolley with the Spillans was only two hundred and fifty feet away from him. Through the moving curtain of rain, Jerry could make out a man and a woman huddled at the bottom of the trolley, as if given up to be torn to pieces by the angry elements.
Between the two squalls, he shouted to Spillane to check that the running wheels were in order. Spillen apparently heard him, because Jerry saw him rise to his knees, feel both wheels of the trolley, then turn to face the shore:
- Everything is fine here, Baby!
Jerry barely heard these words, but their meaning reached him. So what actually happened? Now there was no doubt that it was all about the empty trolley; she couldn't be seen from here, but he knew that she was hanging there, in that terrible abyss, two hundred feet from Spillen's trolley.
Without thinking, he decided what to do. He was only fourteen years old, this thin, agile boy, but he grew up in the mountains, his father initiated him into various secrets of sailor art, and he was not at all afraid of heights.
In the toolbox near the drum he found an old wrench, a small iron rod and a whole bunch of almost new manila twine. He unsuccessfully tried to find some kind of plank to make himself some kind of sailor's cradle, but there was nothing at hand except huge planks; there was nothing to saw them with, and he was forced to do without a comfortable saddle.
The saddle that Jerry made for himself was simple: he threw a rope over a stationary cable on which an empty trolley hung, and, tightening it with a knot, made a large loop; sitting in this loop, he could easily reach the cable with his hands and hold on to it. And at the top, where the loop should have rubbed against the metal cable, he placed his jacket, because no matter how he looked, he could not find a rag or an old bag anywhere.
Having hastily completed all these preparations, Jerry hung in his noose and moved straight into the abyss, fingering the cable with his hands. He took with him a wrench, a small iron rod and several feet of rope. His path lay not horizontally, but somewhat upward, but it was not the ascent that made it difficult, but the terrible wind. When the furious gusts of wind tossed Jerry this way and that and almost turned him around, he felt his heart skip a beat with fear. After all, the cable is very old... What if it can’t withstand its weight and these frantic onslaughts of the wind - it won’t hold up and breaks?
This was the most outright fear. Jerry felt a pain in the pit of his stomach, and his knees were shaking with a small trembling that he was unable to control.
But the Kid bravely continued on his way. The cable was shabby, torn, the sharp ends of the torn wires, sticking out in all directions, tore my hands into blood. Jerry noticed this only when he decided to make the first stop and tried to shout to the Spillens. Their trolley was now hanging directly above him, only a few feet away, so he could already explain to them what had happened and why he had set out on this journey.
“I’d be glad to help you,” Spillane shouted, “but my wife is completely out of her mind!” Look, Baby, be careful! I asked for this myself, but now, except you, there is no one to rescue us.
- Yes, I won’t leave you like that! - Jerry shouted back to him, - Tell Mrs. Spillen that within a minute she will be on the other side.
Under the blinding pouring rain, dangling from side to side like a slipped pendulum, feeling unbearable pain in his torn palms, suffocating from the effort and from the rushing mass of air rushing into his lungs, Jerry finally reached the empty trolley.
At first glance, the boy was convinced that he had not made this terrible journey in vain. The trolley hung on two wheels; one of them had become very worn out during its long service and jumped off the cable, which was now tightly clamped between the wheel itself and its holder.
It was clear that first of all it was necessary to free the wheel from the holder, and for the duration of this work the trolley must be firmly tied with a rope to a stationary cable.
A quarter of an hour later, Jerry finally managed to tie the trolley - that was all he achieved. The pin that held the wheel on the axle was completely rusty and became rigid. Jerry pounded it with all his might with one hand and held on as best he could with the other, but the wind kept blowing and rocking him, and he very often missed the pin. Nine-tenths of all his effort went into staying in place; fearing to drop the key, he tied it to his hand with a handkerchief.
Half an hour has already passed. Jerry moved the pin from its place, but he could not pull it out. Dozens of times he was ready to despair, everything seemed in vain - both the danger to which he exposed himself and all his efforts. But suddenly it seemed to dawn on him. With feverish haste he began to rummage in his pockets. And he found what he needed - a long thick nail.
If it weren’t for this nail, which no one knows when or how it got into his pocket, Jerry would have had to return to the shore again. Having inserted a nail into the hole of the pin, he finally grabbed it, and after a minute the pin jumped out of the axis.
Then he began fussing with an iron rod, with which he tried to free the wheel that was stuck between the cable and the cage. When this was done, Jerry put the wheel in its old place and, using a rope, pulled up the trolley, finally placing the wheel on a metal cable.
However, all this took a lot of time. An hour and a half has passed since Jerry got here. And now he finally decided to get out of his “saddle” and jump into the trolley.
He untied the rope that held it, and the wheels slowly slid along the rope. The trolley moved. And the boy knew that somewhere down there - although he couldn’t see it - the trolley with the Spillens had also moved, only in the opposite direction.
Now he no longer needed a brake, because the weight of his body sufficiently balanced the weight of the other trolley. And soon a high cliff and an old, familiar, confidently rotating drum appeared from the darkness of the clouds.
Jerry jumped to the ground and secured his trolley.
He did this calmly and carefully. And then suddenly - not at all like a hero - he threw himself on the ground right next to the drum, despite the storm and rain, and burst into tears loudly.
There were many reasons for this: unbearable pain in his tattered hands, terrible fatigue and the consciousness that he was finally freed from the terrible nervous tension that had not let go of him for several hours, and also a warm, exciting feeling of joy that Spillane and his wife were now in security.
They were far away and, of course, could not thank him, but he knew that somewhere out there, beyond the angry, raging river, they were now hurrying along the path to the Cloverleaf mine.
Jerry staggered towards the house. The white door handle was stained with blood when he took it, but he didn't even notice it. The boy was proud and pleased with himself, for he firmly knew that he had done the right thing; and since he did not yet know how to be cunning, he was not afraid to admit to himself that he had done a good deed. Only one small regret swarmed in his heart: oh, if only his father were here and saw him!

London Jack

On the shores of Sacramento

Jack London

On the shores of Sacramento

The wind rushes-ho-ho-hew!

Straight to California.

Sacramento is a rich region:

Gold is being shoveled!

A thin boy in a thin, shrill voice sang this sea song, which sailors in all parts of the world chant as they pick up anchor to move to the port of Frisco. He was an ordinary boy, he had never even seen the sea, but just two hundred feet away from him - just down the cliff - the Sacramento River was seething. Little Jerry - that was his name because there was still old Jerry, his father; It was from him that the Kid heard this song and from him he inherited bright red cowlicks, perky blue eyes and very white skin strewn with freckles.

Old "Jerry was a sailor, he sailed the seas for a good half of his life, and the sailor's song itself asks for the tongue. But one day in some Asian port, when he, along with twenty other sailors, sang, exhausted over the damned anchor, the words of this the songs made him think seriously for the first time. Once in San Francisco, he said goodbye to his ship and the sea and went to see the shores of Sacramento with his own eyes.

It was then that he saw gold. He was hired to work at the Golden Dream mine and proved eminently useful in constructing a cableway two hundred feet above the river.

Then this road remained under his supervision. He looked after the cables, kept them in good condition, loved them, and soon became an indispensable worker at the Golden Dream mine. And then he fell in love with pretty Margaret Kelly, but she very soon left him and little Jerry, who was just beginning to walk, and fell into a deep sleep in a small cemetery among large, harsh pines.

Old Jerry never returned to naval service. He lived near his cable car and gave all the love his soul was capable of to thick steel cables and little Jerry. Dark days came for the Golden Dream mine, but even then the old man remained in the service of the Company to guard the abandoned enterprise.

However, this morning he was nowhere to be seen. Only little Jerry sat on the porch and sang an old sailor song. He prepared breakfast for himself and had already managed to finish it, and now he went out to look at the world. Not far away, about twenty paces from him, stood a huge steel drum on which an endless metal cable was wound. Next to the drum stood a carefully secured ore car. Having followed with his eyes the dizzying flight of steel cables thrown high above the river, little Jerry saw far away on the other bank another drum and another trolley.

This structure was powered simply by gravity: the trolley moved, carried away by its own weight, and at the same time an empty trolley was moving from the opposite bank. When the loaded car was emptied, and the empty car was loaded with ore, the whole thing was repeated again, repeated many, many hundreds and thousands of times since old Jerry became the superintendent of the cableway.

Little Jerry stopped singing when he heard footsteps approaching. A tall man in a blue shirt, with a rifle on his shoulder, came out of the pine forest. It was Hall, a watchman at the Yellow Dragon Mine, located about a mile away up the Sacramento River, where there was also a road to the other side.

“Great, Baby!” he shouted. “What are you doing here all alone?”

“And I’m the boss here now,” answered Little Jerry in the most casual tone possible, as if it was not the first time for him to be alone. “Father, you know, left.” -Where did you go? asked Hall. - In San Francisco. He left yesterday evening. His brother died, somewhere in the Old World. So he went to talk to the lawyer. Will be back tomorrow evening.

Jerry laid out all this with the proud knowledge that he had a great responsibility - to personally guard the Golden Dream mine. It was clear at the same time that he was extremely happy about the wonderful adventure of being able to live all alone on this cliff above the river and cook his own breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Well, be careful,” Hall advised him, “don’t try to fool around with the cables.” I'm off to see if I can shoot a deer in Kinky Cow Canyon.

“No matter how it rains,” Jerry said sedately.

What do I care? Is it scary to get wet? - Hall laughed and turned and disappeared between the trees.

Jerry's prediction about rain came true. Around ten o'clock the pine trees creaked, swayed, groaned, the glass in the windows rattled, the rain poured down in long slanting streams. At half past twelve Jerry lit a fire in the hearth and... As soon as twelve struck, I sat down to dinner.

“Today, of course, we won’t have to go for a walk,” he decided, having thoroughly washed and put away the dishes after eating. And he thought: “How wet Hall must have been! And did he manage to shoot a deer?”

About one o'clock in the afternoon there was a knock on the door, and when Jerry opened it, a man and a woman rushed into the room, as if the wind had forced them out. It was Mr. and Mrs. Spillen, farmers who lived in a secluded valley about twelve miles from the river.

Where's Hall? - Spillane asks, out of breath, abruptly.

Jerry noticed that the farmer was excited about something and was in a hurry to get somewhere, and Mrs. Spillen seemed very upset.

She was a thin, completely faded woman who had worked a lot in her life; dull, hopeless work left a heavy stamp on her face. The same hard life bent her husband's back, twisted his hands and covered his hair with the dry ashes of early gray hair.

He went hunting in the canyon of the "Long-legged Cow". Do you need to go to the other side or something?

The woman began to sob quietly, and Spillen let out an exclamation expressing extreme annoyance. He went to the window. Jerry stood next to him and also looked out the window, towards the cable car; the cables were almost invisible behind the thick veil of rain.

Usually, residents of the surrounding villages were transported through Sacramento by the Yellow Dragon cable car. There was a small fee for the crossing, from which the Yellow Dragon Company paid Hall's salary.

We need to get to the other side, Jerry,” said Spillen. “Her father,” he pointed his finger at his crying wife, “was crushed in the mine, in the Clover Leaf mine.” There was an explosion there. They say he won't survive. And they just let us know.

Jerry felt his heart skip a beat. He understood that Spillen wanted to cross the cables of the Golden Dream, but without old Jerry he could not decide to take such a step, because no passengers were carried along their road, and it had been inactive for a long time.

May be. “Hall will come soon,” said the boy. Spillen shook his head. -Where is father? - he asked.

Jack London

OnshoresSacramento

The Banks of the Sacramento (1903)

From the collection "For courage"

Translation by Maria Shishmareva

London D. Collection of stories and short stories (1911-1916): M., "Prestige Book", 2011.

The winds are blowing, oh-ho-ho!

To Kali-for-ni-i.

A lot of-- I hear - gold

There, in Sacramento!

He was just a boy singing a sea song in a treble, such as sailors all over the globe sing as they stand at the capstan and raise the anchor to sail to the port of Frisco. He was only a boy who had never seen the sea, but in front of him, two hundred feet below, rushed the Sacramento River. His name was young Jerry, and from his father, old Jerry, he learned this song and inherited a shock of bright red hair, blue shifty eyes and white skin with the inevitable freckles. Old Jerry was a sailor and spent half his life sailing the seas, forever haunted by the words of this ringing song. And once he sang it in earnest, in an Asian port, and danced around the spire with twenty comrades. And in San Francisco he said goodbye to his ship and the sea and went to look with his own eyes at the shores of Sacramento. And he saw gold: he found a place at the Yellow Dream mine and proved extremely useful in drawing large cables across the river, running at a height of two hundred feet. Then he was entrusted with looking after the cables, repairing them and lowering the trolleys. He loved his work and became an integral part of the Yellow Dream mine. He soon fell in love with pretty Margeret Kelly, but she left him and young Jerry as soon as he began to walk - left him to fall asleep in the last long sleep among the tall, austere pines. Old Jerry never returned to the sea. He stayed by his ropes, giving them and young Jerry all his love. Hard times came for the Yellow Dream, but he still remained in the service of the company, guarding abandoned property. But that morning he was not visible. Only young Jerry sat on the porch of the hut and sang an old song. He cooked and ate his breakfast alone, and now went out to look at the world. Twenty feet away from him stood a steel gate with an endless cable running around it. Nestled at the gate is an ore cart attached to it. Following with his eyes the dizzying run of the cables to the opposite bank, he could see another gate and another trolley. The mechanism was driven by gravity; Due to its own gravity, the loaded trolley was transported across the river, and at the same time another trolley returned empty. The loaded car was unloaded, and the empty one was filled with ore, and the crossing was repeated, repeated tens of thousands of times since the day old Jerry became the caretaker of the cables. Young Jerry stopped his song when he heard footsteps approaching. A tall man in a blue shirt, with a gun on his shoulder, emerged from the darkness of the pine trees. It was Hall, keeper of the Yellow Dragon Mine, whose cables crossed Sacramento a mile above. - Great, baby! - he greeted. -What are you doing here alone? “I’m looking after the cable,” Jerry tried to speak casually, as if this was the most ordinary thing. - Dad isn’t here! -Where did he go? - asked the man. - In San Francisco. Just last night. His brother died overseas, and he went to talk to lawyers. He won't be back until tomorrow night. Jerry spoke with pride - after all, he had the responsibility of looking after the property of the Yellow Dream, living alone on a cliff above the river and cooking his own dinner. “Well, be careful,” said Hall, “and don’t fool around with the cable.” I'm going to Lame Cow Gulch, maybe I'll pick up a deer there. “Looks like it's going to rain,” Jerry observed with the reasonableness of an adult. “I’m not really afraid of getting wet,” Hall laughed, disappearing behind the trees. Jerry's prediction about the rain more than came true. By ten o'clock the pine trees swayed and groaned, the windows of the hut rattled, and the rain began to pour, whipped up by wild gusts of wind. At half-past eleven the boy lit a fire and at exactly twelve sat down to dinner. He won’t be able to leave the house today, he decided, having washed the dishes and put them in their place; and he wondered how Hall would get wet and whether he would be able to hook a deer. At one o'clock there was a knock on the door, and when he opened it, a man and a woman staggered into the room, driven by a squall. They were Mr. and Mrs. Spillen, ranchers who lived in a secluded valley about twelve miles away from the river. -Where is Hall? - asked Spillane; he spoke abruptly and quickly. Jerry noticed that he was nervous and his cutting movements, and Mrs. Spillen seemed very worried about something. She was a thin, faded, exhausted woman; a life filled with painful, endless labor left its rough mark on her face. And the same life bent her husband's shoulders, made his arms knotted and his hair dusty gray. “He went hunting with Lame Cow,” answered Jerry. -Did you want to cross to the other side? The woman began to cry quietly, and Spillen dropped some kind of curse and went to the window. Jerry joined him and looked outside, where the ropes were invisible due to the frequent downpour. The inhabitants of the forests of this part of the country were usually transported through Sacramento by the Yellow Dragon cable. They were charged a modest fee for this service, and the Yellow Dragon Company paid Hall's salary from this money. “We need to get to the other side, Jerry,” Spillane said, pointing over his shoulder at his wife. “Her father had trouble in Clover Leaf.” Gunpowder explosion. He's unlikely to survive. We just found out about this. Jerry felt an inner trembling. He knew that the Spillens wanted to cross the Yellow Dream cable, and in the absence of his father, he did not dare to take on such responsibility; the cable was never used to ferry passengers, and in fact, for a long time it was not used at all. “Maybe Hall will be back soon,” he said. Spillen shook his head and asked: “Where is your father?” “In San Francisco,” Jerry answered briefly. Spillen groaned and, clenching his fist, struck it savagely into the palm of his other hand. His wife began to cry louder, and Jerry heard her whisper: “And daddy is dying, he’s dying!” Tears clouded his eyes, and he stood in indecision, not knowing what to do. But Spillen decided for him. “Listen, baby,” he said firmly, “my wife and I will cross this cable of yours.” Will you let him in for us? Jerry recoiled slightly. He did this unconsciously, retreating instinctively in the face of something unwanted. - Better see if Hall is back? - he suggested. - What if he doesn’t come back? Again Jerry hesitated. “I take the risk,” added Spillen. “Don’t you understand, baby, that we need to cross at all costs?” Jerry nodded his head reluctantly. “And there’s no point in waiting for Hall,” Spillane continued. “You know as well as I do that he can’t come back now.” Well, let's go! “No wonder Mrs. Spillen was completely terrified when they helped her into the ore car,” or so Jerry thought, looking down into the seemingly bottomless abyss. Rain and fog, swirling under the furious blows of the wind, hid the opposite shore, which was seven hundred feet away; the cliff at their feet fell sheerly down, lost in the swirling darkness. It seemed that the bottom was not two hundred feet, but a good mile. -- Ready? -- he asked. - Let her in! - Spillane yelled, trying to drown out the roar of the wind. He climbed into the trolley next to his wife and took her hand in his. Jerry looked at this disapprovingly. “You’ll need your hands to hold on, the wind is howling!” The man and woman unclasped their arms and grabbed the edge of the trolley tightly, and Jerry slowly and carefully released the brake. The gate began to rotate, the endless cable began to move, and the trolley slowly slid into the abyss; its wheels ran along a stationary cable to which it was suspended. It wasn't the first time Jerry had let the rope go, but it was the first time he had to do it without his father being present. Using the brake, he regulated the speed of the trolley, and it was necessary to regulate it, since sometimes, under strong blows of the wind, it swayed wildly back and forth, and once, before a solid wall of rain hid it, it seemed to almost throw its cargo After this, Jerry could only tell the progress of the trolley by the cable, and he watched it carefully as the cable slid around the gate. “Three hundred feet,” he whispered, looking at the cable marks, “three hundred and fifty, four hundred, four hundred...” The cable stopped. Jerry released the brake, but the cable didn't move. Jerry grabbed it with both hands and pulled as hard as he could. Something has gone wrong. But what? He couldn't guess, he couldn't see. Raising his head, he saw the vague outlines of an empty trolley, crossing from the opposite bank at a speed equal to the speed of a loaded trolley. It was separated from the shore by about two hundred and fifty feet. From this he deduced that somewhere out there, in the gray darkness, at an altitude of two hundred feet above the river and at a distance of two hundred and fifty feet from the opposite bank, Spillen and his wife were hanging in a motionless trolley. Jerry shouted three times at the top of his lungs, but the storm brought no answering scream. He couldn't hear them, and they couldn't hear him either. As he stood motionless for a moment and pondered, the flying clouds seemed to lift and dissipate. He caught a glimpse of the swollen waters of Sacramento below and a trolley with a man and a woman above. Then the clouds loomed even thicker than before. The boy carefully examined the gate and found no damage. Apparently the gate on the other side was damaged. He was horrified at the thought of a man and a woman hanging over the abyss in the very whirlpool of the storm, rocking back and forth in a fragile trolley and not knowing what was happening on the shore. And he didn't want to think about them hanging there while he crossed the Yellow Dragon's cable to the other gate. But then he remembered that there were blocks and ropes in the workshop, and he ran to get them. He tied the rope to an endless cable and hung on it. He pulled until it felt like his arms were popping out of their sockets and his shoulder muscles were torn. But the cable did not move. There was nothing left to do but cross to the other side. He had already gotten wet and, not paying attention to the rain, ran to the Yellow Dragon. The storm rushed along with him and urged him on. But there was no Hall at the gate to monitor the brake and regulate the speed of the trolley. He did it himself, passing a strong rope around the motionless cable. Halfway there, he was overtaken by a strong gust of wind, swinging the cable, whistling and roaring around him, pushing and tilting the trolley, and he became more clearly aware of the condition of Spillen and his wife. And this consciousness gave him strength when, having safely crossed to the other side, he made his way towards the storm, to the cable of the Yellow Dream. With horror, he became convinced that the gate was in perfect working order. Everything was fine on both banks. Where's the clue? Definitely in the middle. From this shore the car with the Spillens was two hundred and fifty feet away. Through the clouds of steam he could see a man and woman huddled at the bottom of the trolley, at the mercy of the fury of the wind and rain. In a moment of calm between two gusts of wind, he shouted to Spillane to inspect the wheels of the trolley. Spillen heard him; He carefully rose to his knees and felt both wheels with his hands. Then he turned to face the shore: “Everything is all right here, baby!” Jerry heard these words; they sounded faint, as if rushing from afar. But then - what's the matter? There was only another, empty trolley left; he could not see it, but he knew that it was hanging somewhere above the abyss, two hundred feet further than Spillen's trolley. His decision was made in one second. He was thin and wiry, and he was only fourteen years old. But his whole life was spent in the mountains, and his father taught him the basics of “seamanship,” and he was not particularly afraid of heights. In the toolbox near the gate he found an old English key, a short iron rod and a ring of new manila twine. He searched in vain for a piece of board from which he could build something like a “boatswain’s seat.” There were only large boards at hand, but he did not have the opportunity to saw them and he had to do without a saddle, at least somewhat comfortable. He made himself a very simple saddle. He made a loop from the rope, descending from a stationary rope from which an empty trolley was suspended. When he sat down in the loop, his hands just reached the rope, and where the rope rubbed against the rope, he put his jacket on it, instead of an old bag, which he could have used if he could find it. Having quickly completed these preparations, he hung over the abyss, sitting in a rope saddle and fingering the cable with his hands. He took with him an English key, a short iron rod and the few remaining feet of rope. The cable ran slightly upward, and he had to pull himself up all the time as he advanced, but Jerry found this easier to come to terms with than the wind. As the fierce gusts of wind rocked him back and forth and, at times, almost turned him over, he looked down into the gray abyss and felt fear seize him. The cable was old. What if it can't withstand its weight and wind pressure? He felt fear, real fear, felt a tug in the pit of his stomach, felt his knees tremble, and could not stop this trembling. But he courageously performed his duty. The cable was old, frayed, with sharp ends of wire sticking out of it, and by the time Jerry made his first stop and began calling to Spillane, his hands were cut and bleeding. The trolley was just below him, at a distance of several feet, and he could explain the state of things and the purpose of his journey. - I wish I could help you! - Spillane shouted to him as he set off again. “But my wife was completely unstuck.” And you, baby, be careful! I got myself involved in this matter, and you have to help me out. - Oh, I can handle it! - Jerry shouted back. - Tell Mrs. Spillen that now she will be on the shore in a moment. With the lashing rain blinding him, he swayed from side to side like a fast-traveling pendulum. His torn arms were in great pain, and he almost suffocated from his exercises and from the force of the wind that hit him straight in the face when he finally found himself at the empty trolley. At first glance he was convinced that the dangerous journey had not been undertaken in vain. The front wheel, loose from long wear, jumped off the cable, and now the cable was tightly pinched between the wheel and the block pulley. One thing was clear - the wheel had to be removed from the block; It seemed no less clear that while he was removing the wheel, the trolley must be attached to the cable with the rope he had captured. After a quarter of an hour, he only managed to strengthen the trolley. The pin connecting the wheel to the axle was rusty and bent. He began to pound on it with one hand, and with the other he held tightly to the cable, but the wind still rocked and pushed him, and the blows rarely hit the target. It took nine-tenths of my strength to hold on. He was afraid to drop the English key and tied it tightly to his hand with a handkerchief. Half an hour later, Jerry knocked down the pin, but he could not pull it out. Dozens of times he was ready to give up everything in despair, and it seemed to him that the danger he was exposed to and all his efforts had led to nothing. But then a new thought struck him, and he began to rummage through his pockets with feverish haste until he found what he was looking for—a tenpenny nail. If not for this nail, which somehow ended up in his pocket, he would have had to repeat his journey along the cable back. He stuck a nail into the hole of the pin; now he had something to grab onto, and in a second the pin was removed. Then he inserted an iron rod under the cable and, acting as a lever, released the wheel sandwiched between the cable and the block. After this, Jerry put the wheel back in its original place and, using a rope, raised the trolley until the wheel was back in its place on the cable. All this took time. More than an hour and a half had passed since he reached the empty trolley. And only now could he descend from his saddle into the trolley. He removed the rope holding it and the wheels began to rotate slowly. The trolley began to move, and he knew that somewhere down there, the Spillen trolley - invisible to them, was moving in exactly the same way, but in the opposite direction. There was no need for a brake, since his weight balanced the weight of the other trolley: he soon saw a cliff rising from the cloudy depths, and the old, familiar turning gate. Jerry got out and secured the trolley. He did this diligently and carefully, and then acted in a completely unheroic manner; he sank to the ground near the gate, not paying attention to the lashing rain, and burst into tears. His tears were caused by many things - partly by painfully painful hands, partly by fatigue, partly by a reaction after the nervous tension that had supported him for so long; but were largely gratitude that the man and woman were saved. They weren't here to thank him; but he knew that somewhere out there, on the other side of the roaring stream, they were hurrying along the paths to Clover Leaf. Jerry staggered to the hut; when he opened the door, his hand stained the white door handle with blood, but he didn’t pay attention to it. He was too proud and pleased with himself, because he knew that he had done well, and was straightforward enough to evaluate his action. But all the time he regretted only one thing: if only his father could see! ..

Jack London

On the shores of Sacramento

The wind rushes-ho-ho-hew!

Straight to California.

Sacramento is a rich region:

Gold is being shoveled!

Old Jerry was a sailor, he sailed the seas for a good half of his life, and a song for a sailor just begs to be spoken. But one day in some Asian port, when he, along with twenty other sailors, sang, exhausted over the damned anchor, the words of this song for the first time made him think seriously. Finding himself in San Francisco, he said goodbye to his ship and the sea and went to see with his own eyes the shores of Sacramento.

It was then that he saw gold. He was hired to work at the Golden Dream mine and proved eminently useful in constructing a cableway two hundred feet above the river.

“Great, Baby!” he shouted. “What are you doing here all alone?”

“And I’m the boss here now,” answered Little Jerry in the most casual tone possible, as if it was not the first time for him to be alone. - Father, you know, left. -Where did you go? asked Hall. - In San Francisco. He left yesterday evening. His brother died, somewhere in the Old World. So he went to talk to the lawyer. Will be back tomorrow evening.

Jerry laid out all this with the proud knowledge that he had a great responsibility - to personally guard the Golden Dream mine. It was clear at the same time that he was extremely happy about the wonderful adventure - the opportunity to live completely alone on this cliff above the river and cook his own breakfast, lunch and dinner.

Well, be careful,” Hall advised him, “don’t even try to fool around with the cables.” I'm off to see if I can shoot a deer in Kinky Cow Canyon.

“No matter how it rains,” Jerry said sedately.

What do I care? Is it scary to get wet? - Hall laughed and turned and disappeared between the trees.

“Today, of course, we won’t have to go for a walk,” he decided, having thoroughly washed and put away the dishes after eating. And I thought: “How wet the Hall must be! And did he manage to shoot a deer?

Where's Hall? - Spillane asks, out of breath, abruptly.

Jerry noticed that the farmer was excited about something and was in a hurry to get somewhere, and Mrs. Spillen seemed very upset.

He went hunting in the canyon of the “Long-legged Cow”. Do you need to go to the other side or something?

We need to get to the other side, Jerry,” Spillane said. “Her father,” he pointed his finger towards his crying wife, “was crushed to death at the mine, in the Clover Leaf mine.” There was an explosion there. They say he won't survive. And they just let us know.

May be. “Hall will come soon,” said the boy. Spillen shook his head. -Where is father? - he asked.

“In San Francisco,” Jerry answered briefly. With a hoarse groan, Spillen slammed his fist into his palm furiously. His wife was sobbing louder and louder, and Jerry heard her lamenting: “Oh, we won’t make it, we won’t make it, he’ll die...”

The boy felt that he himself was about to cry; he stood indecisive, not knowing what to do. But Spillen decided for him.

Listen, Baby,” he said in a tone that allowed no objections, “my wife and I need to cross your road at all costs.” Can you help us with this matter - launch this thing?

Jerry involuntarily backed away, as if he had been asked to touch something prohibited.

“I’d better go and see if Hall is back,” he said timidly. - And if not? Jerry hesitated again.

If anything happens, I am responsible for everything. You see, Baby, we really need to get to the other side.” Jerry nodded hesitantly. “And there’s no point in waiting for Hall,” Spillen continued, “you yourself understand that he won’t return from the Kinky Cow Canyon soon.” So let's go, start the drum.

“No wonder Mrs. Spillen looked so frightened when we helped her climb into the trolley,” Jerry involuntarily thought, looking down into the abyss that now seemed completely bottomless. The far shore, seven hundred feet away, was not at all visible through the downpour, the swirling wisps of clouds, the furious foam and spray. And the cliff on which they stood ran like a sheer wall straight into the seething darkness, and it seemed that the distance from the steel cables down there was not two hundred feet, but at least a mile. ..