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- Джек Лондон
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- Мартин Иден
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- Стр. 78/241
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Martin
,
after
a
few
instructions
,
sorted
the
great
heaps
of
soiled
clothes
,
while
Joe
started
the
masher
and
made
up
fresh
supplies
of
soft
-
soap
,
compounded
of
biting
chemicals
that
compelled
him
to
swathe
his
mouth
and
nostrils
and
eyes
in
bath
-
towels
till
he
resembled
a
mummy
.
Finished
the
sorting
,
Martin
lent
a
hand
in
wringing
the
clothes
.
This
was
done
by
dumping
them
into
a
spinning
receptacle
that
went
at
a
rate
of
a
few
thousand
revolutions
a
minute
,
tearing
the
water
from
the
clothes
by
centrifugal
force
.
Then
Martin
began
to
alternate
between
the
dryer
and
the
wringer
,
between
times
"
shaking
out
"
socks
and
stockings
.
By
the
afternoon
,
one
feeding
and
one
,
stacking
up
,
they
were
running
socks
and
stockings
through
the
mangle
while
the
irons
were
heating
.
Then
it
was
hot
irons
and
underclothes
till
six
o
’
clock
,
at
which
time
Joe
shook
his
head
dubiously
.
"
Way
behind
,
"
he
said
.
"
Got
to
work
after
supper
.
"
And
after
supper
they
worked
until
ten
o
’
clock
,
under
the
blazing
electric
lights
,
until
the
last
piece
of
under
-
clothing
was
ironed
and
folded
away
in
the
distributing
room
.
It
was
a
hot
California
night
,
and
though
the
windows
were
thrown
wide
,
the
room
,
with
its
red
-
hot
ironing
-
stove
,
was
a
furnace
.
Martin
and
Joe
,
down
to
undershirts
,
bare
armed
,
sweated
and
panted
for
air
.
"
Like
trimming
cargo
in
the
tropics
,
"
Martin
said
,
when
they
went
upstairs
.
"
You
’
ll
do
,
"
Joe
answered
.
"
You
take
hold
like
a
good
fellow
.
If
you
keep
up
the
pace
,
you
’
ll
be
on
thirty
dollars
only
one
month
.
The
second
month
you
’
ll
be
gettin
’
your
forty
.
But
don
’
t
tell
me
you
never
ironed
before
.
I
know
better
.
"
"
Never
ironed
a
rag
in
my
life
,
honestly
,
until
to
-
day
,
"
Martin
protested
.
He
was
surprised
at
his
weariness
when
he
got
into
his
room
,
forgetful
of
the
fact
that
he
had
been
on
his
feet
and
working
without
let
up
for
fourteen
hours
.
He
set
the
alarm
clock
at
six
,
and
measured
back
five
hours
to
one
o
’
clock
.
He
could
read
until
then
.
Slipping
off
his
shoes
,
to
ease
his
swollen
feet
,
he
sat
down
at
the
table
with
his
books
.
He
opened
Fiske
,
where
he
had
left
off
to
read
.
But
he
found
trouble
and
began
to
read
it
through
a
second
time
.
Then
he
awoke
,
in
pain
from
his
stiffened
muscles
and
chilled
by
the
mountain
wind
that
had
begun
to
blow
in
through
the
window
.
He
looked
at
the
clock
.
It
marked
two
.
He
had
been
asleep
four
hours
.
He
pulled
off
his
clothes
and
crawled
into
bed
,
where
he
was
asleep
the
moment
after
his
head
touched
the
pillow
.
Tuesday
was
a
day
of
similar
unremitting
toil
.
The
speed
with
which
Joe
worked
won
Martin
’
s
admiration
.
Joe
was
a
dozen
of
demons
for
work
.
He
was
keyed
up
to
concert
pitch
,
and
there
was
never
a
moment
in
the
long
day
when
he
was
not
fighting
for
moments
.
He
concentrated
himself
upon
his
work
and
upon
how
to
save
time
,
pointing
out
to
Martin
where
he
did
in
five
motions
what
could
be
done
in
three
,
or
in
three
motions
what
could
be
done
in
two
.
"
Elimination
of
waste
motion
,
"
Martin
phrased
it
as
he
watched
and
patterned
after
.
He
was
a
good
workman
himself
,
quick
and
deft
,
and
it
had
always
been
a
point
of
pride
with
him
that
no
man
should
do
any
of
his
work
for
him
or
outwork
him
.
As
a
result
,
he
concentrated
with
a
similar
singleness
of
purpose
,
greedily
snapping
up
the
hints
and
suggestions
thrown
out
by
his
working
mate
.
He
"
rubbed
out
"
collars
and
cuffs
,
rubbing
the
starch
out
from
between
the
double
thicknesses
of
linen
so
that
there
would
be
no
blisters
when
it
came
to
the
ironing
,
and
doing
it
at
a
pace
that
elicited
Joe
’
s
praise
.
There
was
never
an
interval
when
something
was
not
at
hand
to
be
done
.
Joe
waited
for
nothing
,
waited
on
nothing
,
and
went
on
the
jump
from
task
to
task
.
They
starched
two
hundred
white
shirts
,
with
a
single
gathering
movement
seizing
a
shirt
so
that
the
wristbands
,
neckband
,
yoke
,
and
bosom
protruded
beyond
the
circling
right
hand
.
At
the
same
moment
the
left
hand
held
up
the
body
of
the
shirt
so
that
it
would
not
enter
the
starch
,
and
at
the
moment
the
right
hand
dipped
into
the
starch
—
starch
so
hot
that
,
in
order
to
wring
it
out
,
their
hands
had
to
thrust
,
and
thrust
continually
,
into
a
bucket
of
cold
water
.
And
that
night
they
worked
till
half
-
past
ten
,
dipping
"
fancy
starch
"
—
all
the
frilled
and
airy
,
delicate
wear
of
ladies
.
"
Me
for
the
tropics
and
no
clothes
,
"
Martin
laughed
.
