 
DAVID SHATH SQUARE Chapter Five
THE SWEDE GO OUT of the truck, walked down the berm and waded into the swamp. Several dogs followed him. When he reached the black pipe that extended about a foot out of the water, he bent over and tried to peer into the dark hole from which came a drunken rendition of "When the Saints Come Marching In." The Swede's dogs swam close to the pipe, barked at it and then swam back to shore terrified.
"By Gott you old fool," the Swede yelled into the pipe, "what mess you have managed this time?"
Being under water, my grandfather couldn't hear the Swede so the singing continued in harmony with the Swede's verbal assault. When the Swede was satisfied, he waded back out of the swamp, climbed the berm and began to unroll a steel cable coiled in the back of his truck beside a block and tackle.
"We must rig a sky hook quick to lift this jitney before dis old fool make us deaf with terrible singing." The Swede had a rich baritone voice and sang in the Catholic church choir. "Gott permitting, we will not have to amputate Jeb's foot."
While he strapped on his climbing spikes, he organized the men into groups. One group began to drag the cable across the bog to the base of a large tamarack, while the other attached the block and tackle to the midpoint of the cable. Meanwhile, the Swede swung an end of the cable over his shoulder and began to climb a sturdy tamarack that was in line with both the submerged jitney and the other tamarack about twenty yards across the swamp.
The Swede scaled the tree with the agility of a bear chased by a pack of dogs. About fifteen feet up, he looped the cable several times around the bole and fastened the cable tight with split bolt connectors. Then he slid down the tamarack and waded across the swamp to where the men had wound the cable loosely around the base of the other tree. The Swede picked up the cable and as he climbed, he slid the coils ahead of him while the men on the ground pulled on the cable to prevent the steel coils from slipping down the tree. When the Swede judged he was high enough, the men stretched the cable until it was taut and the block and tackle was lifted high into the air above the jitney.
While the Swede finished securing the cable to the tamarack, the men attached a steel hook to a rope as thick as a man's forearm that ran through the pulleys of the block and tackle. The Swede ordered me to swim under water to find a place on the jitney to secure the enormous hook. It took all my strength to swim with the hook as the men lowered the rope slowly into the water.
When I got to the truck, Lee Chang was waiting to help me tie the thick rope. It was a lucky thing for me he was there. At some point in his life, Lee Chang had acquired a sailor's knowledge of knots. I was constantly amazed by the Chinaman's learning and skill. Together, under the back of the truck, we worked the heavy coils of rope into a bowline that dwarfed the axle.
I couldn't help but worry that the rear end of the truck would be ripped out of the vehicle when the rope became taught. But I didn't have time to speculate because the Swede was hollering at his us to start the truck and get it rolling down the tracks. I jumped into the driver's seat beside Thoreena; Lee Chang climbed into the back. Before starting the engine, I checked the floor shift to make sure the truck was in neutral. I had been driving since I was ten so I knew my way around vehicles.
I pumped the gas, jammed my left foot on the starter and to my relief the engine started. I threw the floor shift into bull low, released the clutch and the truck began to roll forward. The Swede was hollering directions about how much gas to give her, and to be careful to stay on the rails, and all I could think about was Thoreena sitting next to me. As the truck crept forward, the rope got really taught and when I looked over my shoulder I could see the tamarack trees bend from the strain of the cable.
I heard a cheer from the men as the top of my grandfather's head became visible. In my excitement, I grabbed Thoreena's knee and squeezed it hard. Just then the truck's tires lost their grip on the steel rails. The truck began to slide backwards as blue smoke poured from under the squealing rear wheels. It was a discouraging moment until Thoreena grabbed the steering wheel and turned it hard to the right.
The truck jumped off the rails and the tires found a new purchase in the gravel berm. "Floor the old bitch," I heard Thoreena scream. I nearly put my right foot through the boards obeying her. The front end of the truck lifted off the ground and for a terrible second I thought it was going to flip over. But then it lurched ahead and I heard the men cheer again as the front of the jitney emerged from the swamp...
To Chapter Six
Copyright © 1998 David Square/Log Cabin Chronicles/11.97 |
