From the Cabby's Seat

by O. Henry

　　

---

The cabby has his point of view. It is more single-minded, perhaps,than that of a follower of any other calling. From the high, swayingseat of his hansom he looks upon his fellow-men as nomadic particles,of no account except when possessed of migratory desires. He isJehu, and you are goods in transit. Be you President or vagabond, tocabby you are only a Fare, he takes you up, cracks his whip, jogglesyour vertebrae and sets you down.When time for payment arrives, if you exhibit a familiarity withlegal rates you come to know what contempt is; if you find that youhave left your pocketbook behind you are made to realise the mildnessof Dante's imagination.It is not an extravagant theory that the cabby's singleness ofpurpose and concentrated view of life are the results of the hansom'speculiar construction. The cock-of-the-roost sits aloft like Jupiteron an unsharable seat, holding your fate between two thongs ofinconstant leather. Helpless, ridiculous, confined, bobbing like atoy mandarin, you sit like a rat in a trap--you, before whom butlerscringe on solid land--and must squeak upward through a slit in yourperipatetic sarcophagus to make your feeble wishes known.Then, in a cab, you are not even an occupant; you are contents. Youare a cargo at sea, and the "cherub that sits up aloft" has DavyJones's street and number by heart.One night there were sounds of revelry in the big brick tenement-house next door but one to McGary's Family Cafe. The sounds seemedto emanate from the apartments of the Walsh family. The sidewalk wasobstructed by an assortment of interested neighbours, who opened alane from time to time for a hurrying messenger bearing from McGary'sgoods pertinent to festivity and diversion. The sidewalk contingentwas engaged in comment and discussion from which it made no effort toeliminate the news that Norah Walsh was being married.In the fulness of time there was an eruption of the merry-makers tothe sidewalk. The uninvited guests enveloped and permeated them, andupon the night air rose joyous cries, congratulations, laughter andunclassified noises born of McGary's oblations to the hymeneal scene.Close to the curb stood Jerry O'Donovan's cab. Night-hawk was Jerrycalled; but no more lustrous or cleaner hansom than his ever closedits doors upon point lace and November violets. And Jerry's horse!I am within bounds when I tell you that he was stuffed with oatsuntil one of those old ladies who leave their dishes unwashed at homeand go about having expressmen arrested, would have smiled--yes,smiled--to have seen him.Among the shifting, sonorous, pulsing crowd glimpses could be had ofJerry's high hat, battered by the winds and rains of many years; ofhis nose like a carrot, battered by the frolicsome, athletic progenyof millionaires and by contumacious fares; of his brass-buttonedgreen coat, admired in the vicinity of McGary's. It was plain thatJerry had usurped the functions of his cab, and was carrying a"load." Indeed, the figure may be extended and he be likened to abread-waggon if we admit the testimony of a youthful spectator, whowas heard to remark "Jerry has got a bun.">From somewhere among the throng in the street or else out of the thinstream of pedestrians a young woman tripped and stood by the cab.The professional hawk's eye of Jerry caught the movement. He made alurch for the cab, overturning three or four onlookers and himself--no! he caught the cap of a water-plug and kept his feet. Like asailor shinning up the ratlins during a squall Jerry mounted to hisprofessional seat. Once he was there McGary's liquids were baffled.He seesawed on the mizzenmast of his craft as safe as a Steeple Jackrigged to the flagpole of a skyscraper."Step in, lady," said Jerry, gathering his lines. The young womanstepped into the cab; the doors shut with a bang; Jerry's whipcracked in the air; the crowd in the gutter scattered, and the finehansom dashed away 'crosstown.When the oat-spry horse had hedged a little his first spurt of speedJerry broke the lid of his cab and called down through the aperturein the voice of a cracked megaphone, trying to please:"Where, now, will ye be drivin' to?""Anywhere you please," came up the answer, musical and contented."'Tis drivin' for pleasure she is," thought Jerry. And then hesuggested as a matter of course:"Take a thrip around in the park, lady. 'Twill be ilegant cool andfine.""Just as you like," answered the fare, pleasantly.The cab headed for Fifth avenue and sped up that perfect street.Jerry bounced and swayed in his seat. The potent fluids of McGarywere disquieted and they sent new fumes to his head. He sang anancient song of Killisnook and brandished his whip like a baton.Inside the cab the fare sat up straight on the cushions, looking toright and left at the lights and houses. Even in the shadowed hansomher eyes shone like stars at twilight.When they reached Fifty-ninth street Jerry's head was bobbing and hisreins were slack. But his horse turned in through the park gate andbegan the old familiar nocturnal round. And then the fare leanedback, entranced, and breathed deep the clean, wholesome odours ofgrass and leaf and bloom. And the wise beast in the shafts, knowinghis ground, struck into his by-the-hour gait and kept to the right ofthe road.Habit also struggled successfully against Jerry's increasing torpor.He raised the hatch of his storm-tossed vessel and made the inquirythat cabbies do make in the park."Like shtop at the Cas-sino, lady? Gezzer r'freshm's, 'n lish'n themusic. Ev'body shtops.""I think that would be nice," said the fare.They reined up with a plunge at the Casino entrance. The cab doorsflew open. The fare stepped directly upon the floor. At once shewas caught in a web of ravishing music and dazzled by a panorama oflights and colours. Some one slipped a little square card into herhand on which was printed a number--34. She looked around and sawher cab twenty yards away already lining up in its place among thewaiting mass of carriages, cabs and motor cars. And then a man whoseemed to be all shirt-front danced backward before her; and next shewas seated at a little table by a railing over which climbed ajessamine vine.There seemed to be a wordless invitation to purchase; she consulteda collection of small coins in a thin purse, and received from themlicense to order a glass of beer. There she sat, inhaling andabsorbing it all--the new-coloured, new-shaped life in a fairy palacein an enchanted wood.At fifty tables sat princes and queens clad in all the silks and gemsof the world. And now and then one of them would look curiously atJerry's fare. They saw a plain figure dressed in a pink silk of thekind that is tempered by the word "foulard," and a plain face thatwore a look of love of life that the queens envied.Twice the long hands of the clocks went round, Royalties thinned fromtheir ~al fresco~ thrones, and buzzed or clattered away in theirvehicles of state. The music retired into cases of wood and bags ofleather and baize. Waiters removed cloths pointedly near the plainfigure sitting almost alone.Jerry's fare rose, and held out her numbered card simply:"Is there anything coming on the ticket?" she asked.A waiter told her it was her cab check, and that she should give itto the man at the entrance. This man took it, and called the number.Only three hansoms stood in line. The driver of one of them went androuted out Jerry asleep in his cab. He swore deeply, climbed to thecaptain's bridge and steered his craft to the pier. His fareentered, and the cab whirled into the cool fastnesses of the parkalong the shortest homeward cuts.At the gate a glimmer of reason in the form of sudden suspicionseized upon Jerry's beclouded mind. One or two things occurred tohim. He stopped his horse, raised the trap and dropped hisphonographic voice, like a lead plummet, through the aperture:"I want to see four dollars before goin' any further on th' thrip.Have ye got th' dough?""Four dollars!" laughed the fare, softly, "dear me, no. I've onlygot a few pennies and a dime or two."Jerry shut down the trap and slashed his oat-fed horse. The clatterof hoofs strangled but could not drown the sound of his profanity.He shouted choking and gurgling curses at the starry heavens; he cutviciously with his whip at passing vehicles; he scattered fierce andever-changing oaths and imprecations along the streets, so that alate truck driver, crawling homeward, heard and was abashed. But heknew his recourse, and made for it at a gallop.At the house with the green lights beside the steps he pulled up. Heflung wide the cab doors and tumbled heavily to the ground."Come on, you," he said, roughly.His fare came forth with the Casino dreamy smile still on her plainface. Jerry took her by the arm and led her into the police station.A gray-moustached sergeant looked keenly across the desk. He andthe cabby were no strangers."Sargeant," began Jerry in his old raucous, martyred, thunderoustones of complaint. "I've got a fare here that--"Jerry paused. He drew a knotted, red hand across his brow. The fogset up by McGary was beginning to clear away."A fare, sargeant," he continued, with a grin, "that I want tointhroduce to ye. It's me wife that I married at ould man Walsh'sthis avening. And a divil of a time we had, ‘tis thrue. Shake handswid th' sargeant, Norah, and we'll be off to home."Before stepping into the cab Norah sighed profoundly."I've had such a nice time, Jerry," said she.

---

---