The Grapes of Wrath - John Steinbeck [171]
And the dull voice sang, “I’ve give my heart to Jesus, so Jesus take me home. I’ve give my soul to Jesus, so Jesus is my home.’’ The song trailed off to a murmur, and then stopped. Tom hurried down from the embankment, toward the song. After a while he stopped and listened again. And the voice was close this time, the same slow, tuneless singing, “Oh, the night that Maggie died, she called me to her side, an’ give to me them ol’ red flannel drawers that Maggie wore. They was baggy at the knees——’’
Tom moved cautiously forward. He saw the black form sitting on the ground, and he stole near and sat down. Uncle John tilted the pint and the liquor gurgled out of the neck of the bottle.
Tom said quietly, “Hey, wait! Where do I come in?’’
Uncle John turned his head. “Who you?’’
“You forgot me awready? You had four drinks to my one.’’
“No, Tom. Don’ try fool me. I’m all alone here. You ain’t been here.’’
“Well, I’m sure here now. How ’bout givin’ me a snort?’’
Uncle John raised the pint again and the whisky gurgled. He shook the bottle. It was empty. “No more,’’ he said. “Wanta die so bad. Wanta die awful. Die a little bit. Got to. Like sleepin’. Die a little bit. So tar’d. Tar’d. Maybe—don’ wake up no more.’’ His voice crooned off. “Gonna wear a crown—a golden crown.’’
Tom said, “Listen here to me, Uncle John. We’re gonna move on. You come along, an’ you can go right to sleep up on the load.’’
John shook his head. “No. Go on. Ain’t goin’. Gonna res’ here. No good goin’ back. No good to nobody—jus’ a-draggin’ my sins like dirty drawers ’mongst nice folks. No. Ain’t goin’.’’
“Come on. We can’t go ’less you go.’’
“Go ri’ ’long. I ain’t no good. I ain’t no good. Jus’ a-draggin’ my sins, a-dirtyin’ ever’body.’’
“You got no more sin’n anybody else.’’
John put his head close, and he winked one eye wisely. Tom could see his face dimly in the starlight. “Nobody don’ know my sins, nobody but Jesus. He knows.’’
Tom got down on his knees. He put his hand on Uncle John’s forehead, and it was hot and dry. John brushed his hand away clumsily.
“Come on,’’ Tom pleaded. “Come on now, Uncle John.’’
“Ain’t goin’ go. Jus’ tar’d. Gon’ res’ ri’ here. Ri’ here.’’
Tom was very close. He put his fist against the point of Uncle John’s chin. He made a small practice arc twice, for distance; and then, with his shoulder in the swing, he hit the chin a delicate perfect blow. John’s chin snapped up and he fell backwards and tried to sit up again. But Tom was kneeling over him and as John got one elbow up Tom hit him again. Uncle John lay still on the ground.
Tom stood up and, bending, he lifted the loose sagging body and boosted it over his shoulder. He staggered under the loose weight. John’s hanging hands tapped him on the back as he went, slowly, puffing up the bank to the highway. Once a car came by and lighted him with the limp man over his shoulder. The car slowed for a moment and then roared away.
Tom was panting when he came back to the Hooverville, down from the road and to the Joad truck. John was coming to; he struggled weakly. Tom set him gently down on the ground.
Camp had been broken while he was gone. Al passed the bundles up on the truck. The tarpaulin lay ready to bind over the load.
Al said, “He sure got a quick start.’’
Tom apologized. “I had to hit ’im a little to make ’im come. Poor fella.’’
“Didn’ hurt ’im?’’ Ma asked.
“Don’ think so. He’s a-comin’ out of it.’’
Uncle John was weakly sick on the ground. His spasms of vomiting came in little gasps.
Ma said, “I lef’ a plate a potatoes for you, Tom.’’
Tom chuckled. “I ain’t just in the mood right now.’’
Pa called, “Awright, Al. Sling up the tarp.’’
The truck was loaded and ready. Uncle John had gone to sleep. Tom and Al boosted and pulled him up on the load while Winfield made a vomiting noise behind the truck and Ruthie plugged her mouth with her hand to keep from squealing.
“Awready,’’ Pa said.
Tom asked, “Where’s Rosasharn?’’
“Over there,’’ said Ma. “Come on, Rosasharn. We’re a-goin’.’’
The girl sat still, her chin sunk on her breast. Tom walked over to her.