the jacket (the star-rover)- 第7部分

used　to　hear；　at　irregular　intervals；　faint；　low　tappings。　　From

farther　away　I　also　heard　fainter　and　lower　tappings。　　Continually

these　tappings　were　interrupted　by　the　snarling　of　the　guard。　　On

occasion；　when　the　tapping　went　on　too　persistently；　extra　guards

were　summoned；　and　I　knew　by　the　sounds　that　men　were　being　strait…

jacketed。



The　matter　was　easy　of　explanation。　　I　had　known；　as　every　prisoner

in　San　Quentin　knew；　that　the　two　men　in　solitary　were　Ed　Morrell

and　Jake　Oppenheimer。　　And　I　knew　that　these　were　the　two　men　who

tapped　knuckle…talk　to　each　other　and　were　punished　for　so　doing。



That　the　code　they　used　was　simple　I　had　not　the　slightest　doubt；

yet　I　devoted　many　hours　to　a　vain　effort　to　work　it　out。　　Heaven

knowsit　had　to　be　simple；　yet　I　could　not　make　head　nor　tail　of

it。　　And　simple　it　proved　to　be；　when　I　learned　it；　and　simplest　of

all　proved　the　trick　they　employed　which　had　so　baffled　me。　　Not

only　each　day　did　they　change　the　point　in　the　alphabet　where　the

code　initialled；　but　they　changed　it　every　conversation；　and；　often；

in　the　midst　of　a　conversation。



Thus；　there　came　a　day　when　I　caught　the　code　at　the　right　initial；

listened　to　two　clear　sentences　of　conversation；　and；　the　next　time

they　talked；　failed　to　understand　a　word。　　But　that　first　time！



〃SayEdwhatwould　yougiverightnowforbrownpapers

andasackofBullDurham！〃　asked　the　one　who　tapped　from

farther　away。



I　nearly　cried　out　in　my　joy。　　Here　was　communication！　　Here　was

companionship！　　I　listened　eagerly；　and　the　nearer　tapping；　which　I

guessed　must　be　Ed　Morrell's；　replied：



〃Iwoulddotwentyhoursstraitinthejacketforafive…

…centsack〃



Then　came　the　snarling　interruption　of　the　guard：　　〃Cut　that　out；

Morrell！〃



It　may　be　thought　by　the　layman　that　the　worst　has　been　done　to　men

sentenced　to　solitary　for　life；　and　therefore　that　a　mere　guard　has

no　way　of　compelling　obedience　to　his　order　to　cease　tapping。



But　the　jacket　remains。　　Starvation　remains。　　Thirst　remains。　　Man…

handling　remains。　　Truly；　a　man　pent　in　a　narrow　cell　is　very

helpless。



So　the　tapping　ceased；　and　that　night；　when　it　was　next　resumed；　I

was　all　at　sea　again。　　By　pre…arrangement　they　had　changed　the

initial　letter　of　the　code。　　But　I　had　caught　the　clue；　and；　in　the

matter　of　several　days；　occurred　again　the　same　initialment　I　had

understood。　　I　did　not　wait　on　courtesy。



〃Hello；〃　I　tapped



〃Hello；　stranger；〃　Morrell　tapped　back；　and；　from　Oppenheimer；

〃Welcome　to　our　city。〃



They　were　curious　to　know　who　I　was；　how　long　I　was　condemned　to

solitary；　and　why　I　had　been　so　condemned。　　But　all　this　I　put　to

the　side　in　order　first　to　learn　their　system　of　changing　the　code

initial。　　After　I　had　this　clear；　we　talked。　　It　was　a　great　day；

for　the　two　lifers　had　become　three；　although　they　accepted　me　only

on　probation。　　As　they　told　me　long　after；　they　feared　I　might　be　a

stool　placed　there　to　work　a　frame…up　on　them。　　It　had　been　done

before；　to　Oppenheimer；　and　he　had　paid　dearly　for　the　confidence　he

reposed　in　Warden　Atherton's　tool。



To　my　surpriseyes；　to　my　elation　be　it　saidboth　my　fellow…

prisoners　knew　me　through　my　record　as　an　incorrigible。　　Even　into

the　living　grave　Oppenheimer　had　occupied　for　ten　years　had　my　fame；

or　notoriety；　rather；　penetrated。



I　had　much　to　tell　them　of　prison　happenings　and　of　the　outside

world。　　The　conspiracy　to　escape　of　the　forty　lifers；　the　search　for

the　alleged　dynamite；　and　all　the　treacherous　frame…up　of　Cecil

Winwood　was　news　to　them。　　As　they　told　me；　news　did　occasionally

dribble　into　solitary　by　way　of　the　guards；　but　they　had　had　nothing

for　a　couple　of　months。　　The　present　guards　on　duty　in　solitary　were

a　particularly　bad　and　vindictive　set。



Again　and　again　that　day　we　were　cursed　for　our　knuckle　talking　by

whatever　guard　was　on。　　But　we　could　not　refrain。　　The　two　of　the

living　dead　had　become　three；　and　we　had　so　much　to　say；　while　the

manner　of　saying　it　was　exasperatingly　slow　and　I　was　not　so

proficient　as　they　at　the　knuckle　game。



〃Wait　till　Pie…Face　comes　on　to…night；〃　Morrell　rapped　to　me。　　〃He

sleeps　most　of　his　watch；　and　we　can　talk　a　streak。〃



How　we　did　talk　that　night！　　Sleep　was　farthest　from　our　eyes。　　Pie…

Face　Jones　was　a　mean　and　bitter　man；　despite　his　fatness；　but　we

blessed　that　fatness　because　it　persuaded　to　stolen　snatches　of

slumber。　　Nevertheless　our　incessant　tapping　bothered　his　sleep　and

irritated　him　so　that　he　reprimanded　us　repeatedly。　　And　by　the

other　night　guards　we　were　roundly　cursed。　　In　the　morning　all

reported　much　tapping　during　the　night；　and　we　paid　for　our　little

holiday；　for；　at　nine；　came　Captain　Jamie　with　several　guards　to

lace　us　into　the　torment　of　the　jacket。　　Until　nine　the　following

morning；　for　twenty…four　straight　hours；　laced　and　helpless　on　the

floor；　without　food　or　water；　we　paid　the　price　for　speech。



Oh；　our　guards　were　brutes！　　And　under　their　treatment　we　had　to

harden　to　brutes　in　order　to　live。　　Hard　work　makes　calloused　hands。

Hard　guards　make　hard　prisoners。　　We　continued　to　talk；　and；　on

occasion；　to　be　jacketed　for　punishment。　　Night　was　the　best　time；

and；　when　substitute　guards　chanced　to　be　on；　we　often　talked

through　a　whole　shift。



Night　and　day　were　one　with　us　who　lived　in　the　dark。　　We　could

sleep　any　time；　we　could　knuckle…talk　only　on　occasion。　　We　told　one

another　much　of　the　history　of　our　lives；　and　for　long　hours　Morrell

and　I　have　lain　silently；　while　steadily；　with　faint；　far　taps；

Oppenheimer　slowly　spelled　out　his　life…story；　from　the　early　years

in　a　San　Francisco　slum；　through　his　gang…training；　through　his

initiation　into　all　that　was　vicious；　when　as　a　lad　of　fourteen　he

served　as　night　messenger　in　the　red　light　district；　through　his

first　detected　infraction　of　the　laws；　and　on　and　on　through　thefts

and　robberies　to　the　treachery　of　a　comrade　and　to　red　slayings

inside　prison　walls。



They　called　Jake　Oppenheimer　the　〃Human　Tiger。〃　　Some　cub　reporter

coined　the　phrase　that　will　long　outlive　the　man　to　whom　it　was

applied。　　And　yet　I　ever　found　in　Jake　Oppenheimer　all　the　cardinal

traits　of　right　humanness。　　He　was　faithful　and　loyal。　　I　know　of

the　times　he　has　taken　punishment　in　preference　to　informing　on　a

comrade。　　He　was　brave。　　He　was　patient。　　He　was　capable　of　self…

sacrificeI　could　tell　a　story　of　this；　but　shall　not　take　the

time。　　And　justice；　with　him；　was　a　passion。　　The　prison…killings

done　by　him　were　due　entirely　to　this　extreme　sense　of　justice。　　And

he　had　a　splendid　mind。　　A　life…time　in　prison；　ten　years　of　it　in

solitary；　had　not　dimmed　his　brain。



Morrell；　ever　a　true　comrade；　too　had　a　splendid　brain。　　In　fact；

and　I　who　am　about　to　die　have　the　right　to　say　it　without　incurring

the　charge　of　immodesty；　the　three　best　minds　in　San　Quentin　from

the　Warden　down　were　the　three　that　rotted　there　together　in

solitary。　　And　here　at　the　end　of　my　days；　reviewing　all　that　I　have

known　of　life；　I　am　compelled　to　the　conclusion　that　strong　minds

are　never　docile。　　The　stupid　men；　the　fearful　men；　the　men　ungifted

with　passionate　rightness　and　fearless　championshipthese　are　the

men　who　make　model　prisoners。　　I　thank　all　gods　that　Jake

Oppenheimer；　Ed　Morrell；　and　I　were　not　model　prisoners。







CHAPTER　VI







There　is　more　than　the　germ　of　truth　in　things　erroneous　in　the

child's　definition　of　memory　as　the　thing　one　forgets　with。　　To　be

able　to　forget　means　sanity。　　Incessantly　to　remember；　means

obsession；　lunacy。　　So　the　problem　I　faced　in　solitary；　where

incessant　remembering　strove　for　possession　of　me；　was　the　problem

of　forgetting。　　When　I　gamed　with　flies；　or　played　chess　with

myself；　or　talked　with　my　knuckles；　I　partially　forgot。　　What　I

desired　was　entirely　to　forget。



There　were　the　boyhood　memories　of　other　times　and　placesthe

〃trailing　clouds　of　glory〃　of　Wordsworth。　　If　a　boy　had　had　these

memories；　were　they　irretrievably　lost　when　he　had　grown　to　manhood？

Could　this　particular　content　of　his　boy　brain　be　utterly

eliminated？　　Or　were　these　memories　of　other　times　and　places　still

residual；　asleep；　immured　in　solitary　in　brain　cells　similarly　to

the　way　I　was　immured　in　a　cell　in　San　Quentin？



Solitary　life…prisoners　have　been　known　to　resurrect　and　look　upon

the　sun　again。　　Then　why　could　not　these　other…world　memories　of　the

boy　resurrect？



But　how？　　In　my　judgment；　by　attainment　of　complete　forgetfulness　of

present　and　of　manhood　past。



And　again；　how？　　Hypnotism　should　do　it。　　If　by　hypnotism　the

conscious　mind　were　put　to　sleep；　and　the　subconscious　mind

awakened；　then　was　the　thing　accomplished；　then　would　all　the

dungeon　doors　of　the　brain　be　thrown　wide；　then　would　the　prisoners

emerge　into　the　sunshine。



So　I　reasonedwith　what　result　you　shall　learn。　　But　first　I　must

tell　how；　as　a　boy；　I　had　had　these　other…world　memories。　　I　had

glowed　in　the　clouds　of　glory　I　trailed　from　lives　aforetime。　　Like

any　boy；　I　had　been　haunted　by　the　other　beings　I　had　been　at　other

times。　　This　had　been　during　my　process　of　becoming；　ere　the　flux　of

all　that　I　had　ever　been　had　hardened　in　the　mould　of　the　one

personality　that　was　to　be　known　by　men　for　a　few　years　as　Darrell

Standing。



Let　me　narrate　just　one　incident。　　It　was　up　in　Minnesota　on　the　old

farm。　　I　was　nearly　six　years　old。　　A　missionary　to　China；　returned

to　the　United　States　and　sent　out　by　the　Board　of　Missions　to　raise

funds　from　the　farmers；　spent　the　night　in　our　house。　　It　was　in　the

kitchen　just　after　supper；　as　my　mother　was　helping　me　undress　for

bed；　and　the　missionary　was　showing　photographs　of　the　Holy　Land。



And　what　I　am　about　to　tell　you　I　should　long　since　have　forgotten

had　I　not　heard　my　father　recite　it　to　wondering　listeners　so　many

times　during　my　c