Any room can present a tragic front; any room can be comic. From overhead they could hear the creaking of boards, as the Swede tramped here and there in his room. He spat into the sawdust box. Presently the cook remarked that he had seen it. In disjointed sentences the cook and the correspondent argued as to the difference between a life-saving station and a house of refuge.
After supper, as the men filed towards the other room, the Swede smote Scully ruthlessly on the shoulder. The men lowered their heads and plunged into the tempest as into a sea. He was following a line of little naked, gasping trees, which he knew must mark the way of the road. One man made three gestures at the barkeeper, and the latter, moving like a ghost, handed him a glass and a bottle. After school Crane began writing sketches and short stories for newspapers, living in New York's bowery district.
Later, he comfortably fusilladed the windows of his most intimate friend. He shivered and turned white near the corners of his mouth. He swept the door back with a bang and swaggered to the middle of the room. He again filled the shovel and flung the earth. He looked at the babes of the sea.
His father, a strict Methodist minister, died in 1880, leaving his devout, strong mother to raise the children. But would you look at him swing it. The latter answered after prolonged and cautious reflection. Up-stairs the Swede was swiftly fastening the straps of his great valise. It fairly swallowed the dingey, and almost simultaneously the men tumbled into the sea.
Turn over on your back and use the oar. The Red Badge of Courage has become one of the mostly widely read and influential war stories of all time. Timothy Lean filled the shovel, hesitated, and then in a movement which was like a gesture of abhorrence he flung the dirt into the grave, and as it landed it made a sound—plop! A large wave caught him and flung him with ease and supreme speed completely over the boat and far beyond it. The fact that Billie oiler dies might also be important as he is the one who has put in the most effort when it comes to trying to reach shore. He lifted his first shovel-load of earth, and for a moment of inexplicable hesitation it was held poised above this corpse, which from its chalk- blue face looked keenly out from the grave.
Lean, bareheaded, he stood over the grave. The second weapon was aimed at the bridegroom's chest. Afterward he saw his companions in the sea. The Swede could hear his muffled voice. The captain, in the bow, moved on his water-jar and sat erect.
She took from a pocket a little silver watch, and as she held it before her and stared at it with a frown of attention, the new husband's face shone. Scully threw open the door. The huge arms of the wind were making attempts—mighty, circular, futile—to embrace the flakes as they sped. The cowboy volunteered to become the partner of Johnnie, and they all then turned to ask the Swede to throw in his lot with the little Easterner, He asked some questions about the game, and, learning that it wore many names, and that he had played it when it was under an alias, he accepted the invitation. One viewed the existence of man then as a marvel, and conceded a glamour of wonder to these lice which were caused to cling to a whirling, fire-smote, ice-locked, disease-stricken, space-lost bulb. The cowboy returned his pan of pork to the fire, but his philosophy continued.
His feet made funnel-shaped tracks in the heavy sand. He strode towards the men nervously, as if he expected to be assaulted. He mentioned to the boat in general how the amusement of rowing struck him, and the weary-faced oiler smiled in full sympathy. He was sorry for the soldier of the Legion who lay dying in Algiers. One came, and evidently decided to alight on the top of the captain's head. Once his back happened to be half turned towards the door, and, hearing a noise there, he wheeled and sprang up, uttering a loud cry.
The piece of life-preserver lay under him, and sometimes he whirled down the incline of a wave as if he were on a handsled. Scully gently deprecated the plan at first, but the Swede turned a wolfish glare upon him. Why aren't they getting men to bring a boat out? If we don't catch hell in the surf. He had even forgotten that he had forgotten this verse, but it suddenly was in his mind. In fact I think it might be one of my faveorite of Crane's stories. After attending public school, Crane attended the College of Liberal Arts at Syracuse University, but did not graduate.
Then Lean stirred his shoulders suddenly, arousing himself. Crane is less well known for his short stories, poems, and essays but the modern reader will discover that he produced excellent work beyond his widely known novel. Grey-faced and bowed forward, they mechanically, turn by turn, plied the leaden oars. Johnnie, the cowboy, and the Easterner maintained a morose silence, while old Scully appeared to be receptive and eager, breaking in constantly with sympathetic ejaculations. If we have to run a surf you'll need all your strength, because we'll sure have to swim for it. The captain, cook and the correspondent have survived. There was surely in it a quality that was personal and heartfelt.