Page:The Cannery Boat.pdf/189

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Soroku Tamano kept on running through the snowy night. He went from one end of the little town to the other, knocking up his mates.

“Emergency muster. All the lines are out of order.”

He’d struck it bad to have to go routing them out in weather like this. Like him, they all were sleepy. “What the hell does a snowstorm want to come for?” came grumbling voices from inside the houses.

“It’s no use blaming me,” Soroku would grumble. “They all seem to look on me as some sort of tormentor. It’s a damned rotten job I’ve got, and I don’t like it. Boys, don’t hate me, hate someone else. It’s not my fault.” He felt like blubbing. Pulling a funny face he went round from house to house.

In less than an hour eight linesmen, including himself, ten skilled men and seven casuals had collected at the post office.

“Are you all here? All right, then we’ll get to it,” said the young electrician in charge.

“I’ll ask two linesmen, Kimura and Yamagiwa, to stick it out on the platform of the test pole till the morning. Get there as quick as you can.

Some time after the two had gone out the telephone started to ring. It was a report from them. The electrician put the receiver to his ear.

“Tokyo No. 6 line, the lower wire. Yokohama No. 12 line, the upper wire. No. 1, what about M 1? I see. All right, then”