Immediate download Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans Test Bank all chapters

Full download solution manual or testbank at testbankdeal.
com
Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans

Test Bank
https://testbankdeal.com/product/technology-in-action-
complete-12th-edition-evans-test-bank/
OR CLICK HERE
DOWNLOAD NOW
Download more solution manual or test bank from https://testbankdeal.com

Instant digital products (PDF, ePub, MOBI) available
Download now and explore formats that suit you...
Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans Solutions

Manual
https://testbankdeal.com/product/technology-in-action-complete-12th-
edition-evans-solutions-manual/
testbankdeal.com
Technology In Action Complete 9th Edition Evans Test Bank
edition-evans-test-bank/
testbankdeal.com
Technology In Action Complete 14th Edition Evans Test Bank
edition-evans-test-bank/
testbankdeal.com
Elementary and Middle School Mathematics Teaching

Developmentally 9th Edition Walle Test Bank
https://testbankdeal.com/product/elementary-and-middle-school-
mathematics-teaching-developmentally-9th-edition-walle-test-bank/
testbankdeal.com
Financial Accounting 2nd Edition Kemp Solutions Manual
https://testbankdeal.com/product/financial-accounting-2nd-edition-
kemp-solutions-manual/
testbankdeal.com
Canadian Industrial Relations 3rd Edition Peirce Test Bank
https://testbankdeal.com/product/canadian-industrial-relations-3rd-
edition-peirce-test-bank/
testbankdeal.com
College Algebra 11th Edition Lial Solutions Manual
https://testbankdeal.com/product/college-algebra-11th-edition-lial-
solutions-manual/
testbankdeal.com
Understanding the American Promise A History Volume II

From 1865 2nd Edition Roark Test Bank
https://testbankdeal.com/product/understanding-the-american-promise-a-
history-volume-ii-from-1865-2nd-edition-roark-test-bank/
testbankdeal.com
Statistics For Business Decision Making And Analysis 2nd

Edition Stine Solutions Manual
https://testbankdeal.com/product/statistics-for-business-decision-
making-and-analysis-2nd-edition-stine-solutions-manual/
testbankdeal.com
Services Marketing Concepts Strategies and Cases 5th
Edition Hoffman Test Bank
https://testbankdeal.com/product/services-marketing-concepts-
strategies-and-cases-5th-edition-hoffman-test-bank/
testbankdeal.com
Technology In Action, Complete, 12e (Evans et al.)
Chapter 10 Behind the Scenes: Software Programming
1) What is the first step of the system development life cycle (SDLC)?
A) Design
B) Analysis
C) Problem and opportunity identification
D) Development and documentation
Answer: C
Diff: 1
Section Ref: The System Development Life Cycle
2) The final step of the system development life cycle (SDLC) is ________.
A) testing and installation
B) maintenance and evaluation
C) analysis
D) design
Answer: B
Diff: 1
3) ________ is the process of translating a task into a series of commands that a computer will
use to perform the task.
A) Debugging
B) Programming
C) Analyzing
D) Diagramming
Answer: B
Diff: 1
Section Ref: The Life Cycle of a Program
4) Which of the following is the final stage of the program development life cycle (PDLC)?
A) Making the plan
B) Coding
C) Testing and documentation
D) Debugging the code
Answer: C
Diff: 1
5) The set of specific, sequential steps that describe exactly what a computer program must do to
complete the work is called a(n) ________.
A) flowchart
B) structure chart
C) algorithm
D) pseudocode
Answer: C
Diff: 2
6) Which of the following provides a visual representation of the patterns of an algorithm?

A) Flowchart
B) Pseudocode
C) Gantt chart
D) Flow analysis
Answer: A
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Making a Plan: Algorithm Development
7) ________ is a combination of natural language and programming language that is used to

document an algorithm.
A) Flowcharting
B) Pseudocode
C) Diagramming
D) Debugging
Answer: B
Diff: 2
8) The keywords used in programming languages that use decisions to redirect the flow of a
program are called ________.
A) pseudocode
B) control structures
C) flowcharts
D) operators
Answer: B
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Developing the Algorithm: Decision Making and Design
9) A loop decision point consists of three features: an initial value, a set of actions to be
performed, and a(n) ________.
A) class
B) operator
C) test condition
D) testing plan
Answer: C
Diff: 3
10) The flowchart shape for a process is a(n) ________.

A) parallelogram
B) rectangle
C) diamond
D) oval
Answer: B
Diff: 2
11) ________ breaks down a problem into a series of high-level tasks and continues to break
each task into successively more detailed subtasks.
A) Object-oriented analysis
B) Top-down design
C) Bottom-up design
D) Inheritance
Answer: B
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Top-Down Design
12) Object-oriented ________ are defined by the information (data) and the actions (methods)
associated with them.
A) blocks
B) classes
C) units
D) fields
Answer: B
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Object-Oriented Analysis
13) In object-oriented programming, ________ allows a new class to automatically use all the
data and methods of an existing class.
A) reusability
B) regression
C) scalability
D) inheritance
Answer: D
Diff: 2
14) A first-generation language is ________.

A) BASIC
B) machine language
C) COBOL
D) assembly language
Answer: B
Diff: 3
Section Ref: Coding: Speaking the Language of the Computer
15) The capability of moving a completed programming solution easily from one type of
computer to another is known as ________.
A) portability
B) scalability
C) transferability
D) inheritance
Answer: A
Diff: 2
16) SQL is an example of a ________.

A) 2GL
B) 3GL
C) 4GL
D) 5GL
Answer: C
Diff: 3
17) Which statement does NOT describe fifth-generation languages?

A) They are the most "natural" of languages.
B) They use a set of short, English-based commands (such as SUB) that speak directly to the
CPU.
C) Problems are presented as a series of facts or constraints rather than as a specific algorithm.
D) The system of facts can be queried.
Answer: B
Diff: 3
18) Translating an algorithm into a programming language is called ________.

A) interpreting
B) coding
C) compiling
D) executing
Answer: B
Diff: 1
19) The process that converts program code into machine language is called ________.
A) documentation
B) variable declaration
C) compilation
D) execution
Answer: C
Diff: 1
Section Ref: Compilation
20) ________ is the instructions programmers have written in a higher-level language.

A) Executable code
B) Base code
C) Compiled code
D) Source code
Answer: D
Diff: 3
21) An integrated development environment (IDE) is a ________.

A) program that helps interpret code
B) tool that converts one programming language into a different programming language
C) collection of tools that helps programmers write and test their programs
D) program that translates code into binary 1s and 0s and ignores comments
Answer: C
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Coding Tools: Integrated Development Environments
22) Division by zero is a ________ error that is caught when the program executes.
A) compiler
B) runtime
C) syntax
D) logical
Answer: B
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Debugging: Getting Rid of Errors
23) Before its final commercial release, a(n) ________ version of software may be offered to
certain test sites or to interested users free or at a reduced cost.
A) gamma
B) release to manufacturers (RTM)
C) beta
D) general availability (GA)
Answer: C
Diff: 3
24) ________ is a powerful programming language that can be used to create a wide range of
Windows applications.
A) Visual Basic
B) PHP
C) BASIC
D) HTML
Answer: A
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Visual Basic
25) Which language is the most popular language for writing Apple OS X applications?
A) C++
B) HTML
C) Objective C
D) Java
Answer: C
Diff: 3
Section Ref: Objective C and Swift
26) A small Java-based program is called a ________.

A) Java class
B) JSP
C) JavaScript
D) Java applet
Answer: D
Diff: 1
Section Ref: Java and C#
27) Special symbols called tags are used in which of the following languages?
A) C#
B) Java
C) HTML/XHTML
D) C++
Answer: C
Diff: 1
Section Ref: HTML
28) Which of the following would NOT be used to build websites with interactive capabilities?
A) Active Server Pages
B) PHP (hypertext preprocessor)
C) Fortran
D) Java Server Pages
Answer: C
Diff: 3
Section Ref: ASP, JSP, and PHP
29) ________ enables users to define their own data-based tags and facilitates exchange of
information between websites.
A) HTML
B) XHTML
C) XML
D) PHP
Answer: C
Diff: 2
Section Ref: AJAX, XML and JSON
30) Corona and Magmito can be used to develop ________.

A) complex web applications
B) apps for smartphones
C) Mac software
D) Web pages
Answer: B
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Mobile Applications
31) SDLC stands for ________.

Answer: system development life cycle
Diff: 1
32) In a(n) ________ system, each step is dependent on the previous step.
Answer: waterfall
"waterfall"
Diff: 2
33) A(n) ________ is a visual diagram of a process that includes any decisions that are made
along the way.
Answer: flowchart
Diff: 2
34) In the ________ phase of the SDLC, exploration of the depth of a problem and development
of program specifications take place.
Answer: analysis
Analysis
Diff: 2
35) In the "Making a Plan" step of the PDLC, a(n) ________ is written in natural, ordinary
language describing exactly what the computer program is to do.
Answer: algorithm
Diff: 2
36) ________ is the part of the problem statement that describes what a program should do if the
input data is invalid.
Answer: Error handling
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Describing the Problem: The Problem Statement
37) ________ is not actual programming code but uses words to describe the algorithm.
Answer: Pseudocode
Diff: 2
38) The flowchart shape for a binary decision is a(n) ________.

Answer: diamond
Diff: 2
39) A(n) ________ is a control structure that continues to be performed while a test condition is
true.
Answer: loop
Diff: 2
40) ________ design is a systematic approach that is used to break down a problem into a series
of high-level tasks.
Answer: Top-down
Diff: 1
41) In object-oriented terms, an original class is called the ________ class.

Answer: base
Diff: 2
42) In object-oriented terms, a new, modified class is called the ________ class.
Answer: derived
Diff: 3
43) SQL stands for ________.

Answer: Structured Query Language
Diff: 3
44) ________-generation languages use symbols and commands to tell the computer what to do.
Answer: Third
3rd
Diff: 3
45) A(n) ________ translates source code into an intermediate form, line by line.
Answer: interpreter
Diff: 3
46) A(n) ________ program is the binary sequence that has been translated from source code by
a compiler for use by the CPU.
Answer: executable
Diff: 2
47) A(n) ________ error is caused by not following the strict, precise set of rules for a specific
programming language.
Answer: syntax
Diff: 2
48) IDE stands for ________.

Answer: integrated development environment
Diff: 3
49) The process of running a program over and over to find errors and make sure the program
behaves in the way it should is known as ________.
Answer: debugging
Diff: 1
50) ________ and runtime errors are caught only when a program executes.
Answer: Logical
Logical errors
Diff: 2
51) Most browsers can execute Java ________, which are small Java-based programs.
Answer: applets
Diff: 2
52) When a large project begins, a programmer can build a(n) ________, which is a small model
of what the final program will look like when it is finished.
Answer: prototype
Diff: 2
Section Ref: Visual Basic
53) The acronym HTML stands for ________.

Answer: Hypertext Markup Language
Diff: 2
Section Ref: HTML
54) HTML uses special symbols called ________ to control how information is displayed on the
web.
Answer: tags
Diff: 1
Section Ref: HTML
55) Two languages that are popular because of how they use the object-oriented approach are
C++ and ________.
Answer: Java
Diff: 2
56) Data-flow diagrams trace all data in an information system from the point at which data enter
the system to their final resting places.
Answer: TRUE
Diff: 2
57) The program specification is a clear statement of the goals and objectives of the project.
Answer: TRUE
Diff: 1
58) During the program debugging stage, the people who will use the program test the software.
Answer: FALSE
Diff: 2
59) Data are the raw inputs that users have at the start of the job.
Answer: TRUE
Diff: 1
Section Ref: Describing the Problem: The Problem Statement
60) The standard set of vocabulary for pseudocode is specific and detailed.
Answer: FALSE
Diff: 1
61) The flowchart shape for input or output is an oval.

Answer: FALSE
Diff: 2
62) A data-flow diagram provides a visual representation of an algorithm.

Answer: FALSE
Diff: 3
63) Bottom-up design is a systematic approach in which a problem is broken into a series of
high-level tasks.
Answer: FALSE
Diff: 1
64) When programmers need to create several different examples of a class, each is known as an
object.
Answer: TRUE
Diff: 2
65) Inheritance means that the data and methods of an existing class can be extended and
customized to fit a new class.
Answer: TRUE
Diff: 1
66) PROLOG is an example of a fourth-generation programming language.
Answer: FALSE
Diff: 3
67) Second-generation languages are also known as assembly languages.

Answer: TRUE
Diff: 2
68) A compiler translates the source code into an intermediate form, line by line.
Answer: FALSE
Diff: 1
69) One IDE can often be configured to support many different languages.
Answer: TRUE
Diff: 2
70) Syntax errors are caught only when a program executes.

Answer: FALSE
Diff: 1
71) Match each of the following generations to its language:

I. 1GL
II. 2GL
III. 3GL
IV. 4GL
V. 5GL
A. assembly language
B. SQL
C. machine language
D. PROLOG
E. COBOL
Answer: C, A, E, B, D
Diff: 3
72) Match each of the following terms to its definition:
I. portability
II. reusability
III. inheritance
IV. method
V. data
A. a new class can automatically pick up data and methods of an existing class
B. the capability to move a completed solution easily from one type of computer to another
C. the ability to apply classes from other projects to a new project
D. an object oriented function or behavior
E. raw input
Answer: B, C, A, D, E
Diff: 3
Section Ref: Multiple Locations in the Chapter

I. source code
II. syntax
III. compiler
IV. interpreter
V. operator
A. program that translates code into binary 0s and 1s and ignores comments
B. agreed-on set of rules defining how the language must be structured
C. translates source code line by line into an intermediate form
D. coding symbol that represents a fundamental action of a language
E. programmers' instructions written in a higher-level language
Answer: E, B, A, C, D
Diff: 3
74) Match each of the following steps of SDLC development to its position in the development
process.
I. development
II. design
III. analysis
IV. testing and installation
V. problem/opportunity identification
A. first step
B. second step
C. third step
D. fourth step
E. fifth step
Answer: D, C, B, E, A
Diff: 3

I. pseudocode
II. error handling
III. source code
IV. binary decision
V. variable
A. program instructions written in a higher-level language

B. text-based approach to documenting an algorithm
C. items allocated storage space in RAM
D. managing what a program should do if input data are invalid
E. can be answered in only two ways (for example, yes/no)
Answer: B, D, A, E, C
Diff: 2
Random documents with unrelated
content Scribd suggests to you:
ones, waiting here. Sometimes they jest, sometimes they talk,
sometimes they sit and wait. But the water with which they are so
intimately connected, from which they draw their subsistence, flows
on. I have seen a vain, self-conscious foreman come out from one of
these great pier buildings and with a Cæsar-like wave of his hand
beckon to this man and that. At his sign a dozen, a score of men
would rise and look inquiringly in his direction, dumb and patient like
cattle. And then he would pick this one and that, wavering subtly
over his choice, pushing aside this one, who was not quite strong
enough, perhaps, or agile enough, laying a hand favoringly on that,
and then turning eventually and leaving the remaining members of
the group dumb but a little disappointed. Invariably they seemed to
me to be a bit bereaved and neglected, sorry that they could not
help themselves, but still willing to wait. I have sometimes thought
that cattle are better provided for, or at least as well.
But from an artistic and natural point of view the scene has
always fascinated me. Is it morning? The sun sparkles on the
waters, the wind blows free, gulls wheel and turn and squeal, white
flecks above the water, swarms of vehicles gather with their loads,
life seems to move at a smart clip. Is it noon? A large group of men
is to be seen idling in the sun, blue-jacketed, swarthy-faced, colorful
against the dark background of the piers. Is it night? The lanterns
swing and rock. There is darkness overhead and the stars.
The Waterfront
I sometimes think no human being ever lived who caught more

significantly, more sweetly, the beauty of the waterfront than the
great Englishman, Turner. When one looks at his canvases, rich in
their gold of sunshine, their blue of sky, their haze of moisture, one
feels all that the sea really presents. This man understood, as did
Whistler, only he translated his mood in regard to it all into richer
colors, those gorgeous golds, reds, pinks, greens, blues. And he had
a greater tenderness for atmosphere than did Whistler. In Whistler
one misses more than the bare facts, albeit deliciously, artistically,
perfectly presented. In Turner one finds the facts presented as by
nature in her balmiest mood, and idealized by the love and affection
of the artist. You have seen “The Fighting Téméraire,” of course. It is
here in New York harbor any sunny afternoon. The wind dies down,
the sun pours in a golden flood upon the east bank from the west,
the tall elevator stacks and towering chimneys of factories on the
west shore give a beauty of line which no artist could resist. Up the
splashing bosom of the river, trembling silver and gold in the evening
light, comes a great vessel. Her sides stand out blackly. Her masts
and funnels, tinged with an evening glow of gold, burn and shimmer.
Against a magnificent, a radiant sky, where red and gold clouds hang
in broken patches, she floats, exquisitely penciled and colored—“The
Fighting Téméraire.” You would know her. Only it is now the Hudson
and not the Thames.
The skyline, the ship masts, the sun, the water, all these are
alike. The very ship is the same, apparently, and the sun drops down
as it did that other day when his picture was painted. The stars
come out, the masts rock, swinging their little lamps, the water runs
sipping and sucking at the docks and piers. The winds blow cool,
and there is silence until the morning. Then the waterfront assumes
its quaint, delicious, easy atmosphere once more. It is once more
fresh and free. So runs its tide, so runs its life, so runs our very
world away.
THE LOG OF A HARBOR PILOT
An ocean pilot-boat lay off Tompkinsville of an early spring

afternoon, in the stillest water. The sun was bright, and only the
lightest wind was stirring. When we reached the end of the old
cotton dock, an illustrator and myself, commissioned by a then but
now no more popular magazine, there she was, a small, two-masted
schooner of about fifty tons burden, rocking gently upon the water.
We accepted the services of a hawking urchin, who had a canoe to
rent, and who had followed us down the main street in the hope of
earning a half-dollar. He led the way through a hole in a fence that
enclosed the street at the water end and down a long, stilted plank
walk to a mess of craft and rigging, where we found his little tub,
and pushed out. In a few minutes we had crossed the quiet stretch
of water and were alongside.
Like all pilot-boats, the Hermann Oelrichs was built low in the
water, so that it was easy to jump aboard. Her sails were furled and,
from the quiet prevailing, one might have supposed that the crew
had gone into the village. No sound issued until we reached the
companionway. Then below we could see the cook scraping cold
ashes out of a fireless stove. He was cleaning the cabin and putting
things to rights before the pilots arrived. He accepted our intrusion
with a friendly glance.
“Captain Rierson told us to come aboard,” we said.
“All right, sir. Stow your things in any one of them bunks.”
We went about this while the ashes were taken out and tossed
overboard. When the cook returned it was with a bucket and brush,
and he attacked the oilcloth on the floor industriously.
“Cozy little cabin, this, eh?”
“Yes, she’s a comfortable little boat,” replied the cook. “These
pilots take things purty comfortable. She’s not as fast as some of the
boats, but she’s all right in rough weather.”
“Do you encounter much rough weather?”
“Well, now and again,” answered the cook, with the vaguest
suggestion of a twinkle in his eye. “It’s purty rough sometimes in
winter.”
“How long do you stay out?”
“Sometimes three, sometimes five days, sometimes we get rid of
all seven pilots the first day—there’s no telling. It’s all ’cording to
how the steamers come in.”
“So we may be out a week?”
“About that. Maybe ten days.”
We went on deck. It was warm and bright. Some sailors from
the fore-hatch were scrubbing down the deck, which dried white and
warm as fast as they swabbed off the water. Wide-winged gulls were
circling high and low among the ships of the harbor. On Staten
Island many a little curl of smoke rose from the chimneys of white
cottages.
That evening the crew of five men kept quietly to their quarters
and slept. The moon shone clear until ten, when the barometer
suddenly fell and clouds came out of the east. By cock-crow it was
raining, and by morning it was drizzling and cold.
The pilots appeared one after another. They came out to the
edge of the cotton wharf through the mist and rain, and waved a
handkerchief as a signal that a boat should be sent ashore for them.
One or two, failing to attract the immediate attention of the crew,
resorted to the expedient of calling out: “Schooner, Ahoy!” in voices
which partook of some of the stoutness of the sea.
“Come ashore, will you?” they shouted, when a head appeared
above deck.
No sooner were they recognized than the yawl was launched
and sent ashore. They came aboard and descended quickly out of
the rain into the only room (or cabin) at the foot of the
companionway. This was at once their sitting-room, dining-room,
bedroom, and every other chamber for the voyage. Here they
stowed their satchels and papers in lockers beneath their individual
sleeping berths. Each one sought out a stout canvas clothes bag,
which all pilots use in lieu of a trunk, and began to unpack his ship’s
clothes. All took off their land apparel and dressed themselves in
ancient seat-patched and knee-worn garments, which were far more
comfortable than graceful, and every one produced the sailor’s
essential, a pipe and tobacco.
Dreary as was the day overhead, the atmosphere of the cabin
changed with their arrival. Not only was it soon thick with the fumes
of many pipes, but it was bright with genial temper. Not one of the
company of seven pilots seemed moody.
“Whose watch is it?” asked one.
“Rierson’s, I think,” was the answer.
“He ain’t here yet.”
“Here he comes now.”
At this a hale Norwegian, clean and hard as a pine knot, came
down the companionway.
“My turn to-day, eh? Are we all here?”
“Ay!” cried one.
“Then we might as well go, hey?”
“Ay! Ay!” came the chorus.
“Steward!” he called. “Tell the men to hoist sail!”
“Ay! Ay! sir!” answered the steward.
Then were rattlings and clatterings overhead. While the little
company in the cabin were chatting, the work on deck was resulting
in a gradual change, and when, after a half-hour, Rierson put his
head out into the wind and rain above the companionway, the cotton
docks were far in the rear, all but lost in the mist and drizzle. All sails
were up and a stiff breeze was driving the little craft through the
Narrows. McLaughlin, the boatman and master of the crew, under
Rierson, was at the wheel. Already we were being rocked and tossed
like a child in a cradle.
“Who controls the vessel,” I asked of him, “while the pilots are
on board?”
“The pilots themselves.”
“Not all of them?”
“No, not all at one time. The pilot who has the watch has full
control for his hours, then the next pilot after him, and so on. No
pilot is interfered with during his service.”
“And where do we head now?”
“For Sandy Hook and the sea east of that. We are going to meet
inbound European steamers.”
The man at the wheel, McLaughlin, was a clean athletic young
chap, with a straight, full nose and a clear, steady eye. In his yellow
raincoat, rubber boots and “sou’wester” he looked to be your true
sea-faring man. With the little craft plunging ahead in a storm of
wind and rain and over ever-increasing billows, he gazed out steadily
and whistled an airy tune.
“You seem to like it,” I remarked.
“Yes,” he answered. “It’s not a bad life. Rather cold in winter, but
summer makes up for it. Then we’re in port every fifth or sixth day
on an average. Sometimes we get a night off.”
“The pilots have it better than that?”
“Oh, yes; they get back quicker. The man who has the first
watch may get back to-day, if we meet a steamer. They might all get
back if we meet enough steamers.”
“You put a man aboard each one?”
“Yes.”
“How do you know when a steamer wants a pilot?”
“Well, we are in the track of incoming steamers. There is no
other pilot-boat sailing back and forth on this particular track at this
time. If a steamer comes along she may show a signal for a pilot or
she may turn a little in our direction. Either way, we know she wants
one. Then we lay to and wait until she comes up. You’ll see, though.
One is likely to come along at any time now.”
The interior of the little craft presented a peculiar contrast to
storm and sea without. In the fore compartment stood the cook at
his stove preparing the midday meal. Sailors, when no orders were
called from above, lay in their bunks, which curved toward the prow.
The pots and pans of the stove moved restlessly about with the
swell. The cook whistled, timbers creaked, the salt spray swished
above the hatch, and mingled odors of meats and vegetables
combined and thickened the air.
In the after half of the boat were the pilots, making the best of
idle time. No steamer was sighted, and so they lounged and
smoked. Two or three told of difficulties on past voyages. Two of the
stoutest and jolliest were met in permanent conflict over a game of
pinochle. One read, the others took down pillows from the bunks,
and spreading them out on the wide seat that lined two sides of the
room, snored profoundly. Nearly all took turns, before or after
games, or naps, at smoking. Sometimes all smoked. It was
observable that no “listener” was necessary for conversation. Some
talked loudly, without a single person heeding. At times all talked at
once in those large imperious voices which seem common to the
sea. The two old pilots at cards never halted. Storms might come
and storms might go; they paused only to renew their pipes.
At the wheel, in tarpaulin and sou’wester, McLaughlin kept
watch. Sea spray kept his cheeks dripping. His coat was glassy with
water. Another pilot put his head above deck.
“How are we heading?”
“East by no’.”
“See anything?”
“A steamer, outbound.”
“Which one?”
“The Tauric.”
“Wish she was coming in!” concluded the inquirer, as he went
below.
We kept before the wind in this driving way. All the morning and
all the afternoon the rain fell. The cook served a wholesome meal of
meats and vegetables, and afterwards all pipes were set smoking
more industriously than ever. The two old pilots renewed their cards.
Every one turned to trifling diversions, with the feeling that he must
get comfort out of them. It was a little drowsy, a little
uncomfortable, a little apt to make one long for shore. In the midst
of the lull the voice of the man at the wheel sounded at the
companionway.
“Steamer on the port bow! Pilot-boat Number Nine! She’s hailing
us.”
“Well, what does she want?”
“Can’t make out yet.”
One and all hastened on deck. On our left, in the fog and rain,
tossed a little steamer which was recognized as the steam pilot-boat
stationed at Sandy Hook. She was starboarding to come nearer and
several of her pilots and crew were at her rail hailing us. As she
approached, keener ears made out that she wanted to put two men
aboard us.
“We don’t want any more men aboard here,” said one. “We’ve
got seven now.”
“No!” said several in chorus. “Tell ’em we can’t take ’em.”
“We can’t take any more,” shouted the helmsman, in long-drawn
sounds. “We’ve got seven aboard now.”
“Orders to put two men aboard ye,” came back over the
tumbling waters. “We’ve a sick man.”
“Don’t let ’em put any more men aboard here. Where they goin’
to sleep?” argued another. “One man’s got to bunk it as it is, unless
we lose one pretty soon.”
“How you goin’ to help it? They’re puttin’ their men out.”
“Head away! Head away! They can’t come aboard if you head
away!”
“Oh, well; it’s too late now.”
It was really too late, for the steamer had already cast a yawl
and the two men, together with the crew, were in it and heading
over the churning water. All watched them as they came alongside
and clambered on.
They were Jersey pilots who had been displaced on the other
boat because one of their number had been taken sick and more
room was needed to make him comfortable. He was thought to be
dying, and must be taken back to New York at once, and his
condition formed the topic of conversation for the rest of the day.
Meanwhile our schooner headed outward, with nothing to
reward her search. At five o’clock there was some talk of not finding
anything before morning. Several advised running toward Princess
Bay on Staten Island and into stiller water, and as the minutes
passed the feeling crystallized. In a few minutes all were urging a
tack toward port, and soon it was done. Sails were shifted, the prow
headed shoreward, and gradually, as the track of the great vessels
was abandoned, the waters became less and less rough, then more
and more quiet, until finally, when we came within distant sight of
Princess Bay and the Staten Island shore, the little vessel only
rocked from side to side; the pitching and churning were over.
It was windy and cold on deck, however, and after the crew had
dropped anchor they remained below. There was nothing to do save
idle the time. The few oil lamps, the stove-fire and the clearing away
of dishes after supper, gave the cabin of the fore-and-aft a very
home-like appearance.
Forward, most of the sailors stretched in their bunks to digest
their meal. There were a few magazines and papers on the table, a
few decks of cards and a set of checkers. It was interesting to note
the genial mood of the men. One might fancy oneself anywhere but
at sea, save for the rocking of the boat. It was more like a
farmhouse kitchen. One little old sailor, grizzled and lean, had only
recently escaped from a Hongkong trader, where he had been sadly
abused. Another was a mere boy, who belonged to Staten Island. He
had been working in a canning factory all winter, he said, but had
decided to go to sea for a change. It was not his first experience;
this alternating was a regular thing with him. The summer previous
he had worked as cook’s scullion on one of the other pilot-boats; this
summer he was a sailor.
The Staten Islander had the watch on deck from ten to twelve
that night. By that time the rain had ceased and the lights on the
distant shore were visible, glimmering faintly, it seemed good to be
on deck. The wind blew slightly chill and the waters sipped and
sucked at the prow and sides. Coming above I chatted with the
young sailor.
“Do you like sea life?” I asked him.
“There ain’t much to it.”
“Would you rather be on shore?”
“Well, if I didn’t have to work so hard.”
“You like one, then, as well as the other?”
“Well, on shore the hours are longer, but you get your evenings
and Sundays. Out here there ain’t any hour your own, but there’s
plenty days when there’s nothin’ doin’. Some days there ain’t no
wind. Sometimes we cruise right ahead without touchin’ the sails.
Still, it’s hard, ’cause you can’t see nobody.”
“What would you do if you were on shore?”
“Oh, go to the show.”
It developed that his heart yearned for “nights off.” The little,
bright-windowed main street in New Brighton was to his vision a
kind of earthly heaven. To be there of an evening when people were
passing, to loaf on the corner and see the bright-eyed girls go by, to
be in the village hubbub, was to him the epitome of living. The
great, silent, suggestive sea meant nothing to him.
After a while he went below and tumbled in and McLaughlin, the
boatman, took the turn. In the cabin most of the pilots had gone to
bed. Yet the two old salts were still at pinochle, browbeating each
other, but in a subdued tone. All pipes were out. Snores were
numerous and long.
At dawn the pilot whose turn it was to guide the next steamer
into New York took the wheel. We sailed out into the east and the
morning, looking for prey. It came soon, in the shape of a steamer.
“Steamer!” called the pilot, and all the other pilots turned out
and came on deck. The sea to the eastward, whither they were
looking, was utterly bare of craft. Not a sail, not a wisp of smoke!
Yet they saw something and tacked ship so as to swing round and
sail toward it. Not even the telescope revealed it to my untrained
eyes until five minutes had gone by, when afar off a speck appeared
above the waters. It came on larger and larger, until it assumed the
proportions of a toy.
With the first announcement of a steamer the pilot who was to
take this one in gave the wheel to the pilot who was to have the
next one. He seemed pleased at getting back to New York so soon.
While the ship was coming forward he went below and changed his
clothes. In a few minutes he was on deck, dressed in a neat
business suit and white linen. His old clothes had all been packed in
a grain sack. He had a bundle of New York papers and a light
overcoat over his arm.
“How did you know that steamer wanted a pilot?” I asked him.
“I could tell by the way she was heading.”
“Do you think she saw you?”
“Yes.”
“Can you always tell when a steamer so far off wants a pilot?”
“Nearly always. If we can’t judge by her course we can see
through the telescope whether she has a signal for a pilot flying.”
“And when you go aboard her what will you do?”
“Go to the bridge and direct her course.”
“Do you take the wheel or do any work?”
“Not at all.”
“What about your breakfast?”
“I’ll take that with the officers of the deck.”
“Do you always carry a bundle of papers?”
“Sure. The officers and passengers like to get early news of New
York. Sometimes the papers are pretty old before we hand them out,
but they’re better than nothing.”
He studied the approaching steamer closely through the glass.
“The Ems,” he said laconically. “Get the yawl ready, boys.”
Four sailors went to the lee side and righted the boat there. The
great vessel was plowing toward us at a fine rate. Every minute she
grew larger, until at half a mile she seemed quite natural.
“Heave the yawl,” called the man at the wheel.
Over went the boat with a splash, and two men after and into it.
They held it close to the side of the schooner until the departing
pilot could jump in.
“Cast loose!” said the man at the wheel to the men holding the
rope.
“Ay! Ay! sir!” they replied.
“Good-by, Billie,” called the pilots.
“So long, boys,” he cried back.
Our schooner was moving swiftly away before the wind. The
man in the yawl pulled out toward where the steamer must pass.
Already her engines had stopped, and the foam at her prow was
dying away. One could see that a pilot was expected. Quite a crowd
of people, even at that early hour, was gathered at the rail. A ladder
of rope was hanging over the side, almost at the water’s edge.
The little yawl bearing the pilot pulled square across the
steamer’s course. When the vessel drifted slowly up, the yawl nosed
the great black side and drifted back by the ladder. One of the
steamer’s crew threw down a rope, which the oarsman of the yawl
caught. This held the yawl still, close to the ladder, and the pilot,
jumping for a good hold, began slowly to climb upward. No sooner
had he seized the rope ladder than the engines started and the
steamer moved off. The little yawl, left alone like a cork on a
thrashing sea, headed toward us. The schooner tacked and came
round in a half circle to pick it up, which was done with safety.
This was a busy morning. Before breakfast another ship had
appeared, a tramp steamer, and a pilot was dressing to board her.
Down the fore hatch could be seen the cook, frying potatoes and
meat, and boiling coffee. The change in weather was pleasing to
him, too, for he was singing as he clattered the dishes and set the
table. In the cabin the pipes of the pilots were on, and the two old
salts were at pinochle harder than ever.
Another pilot left before breakfast, and after he was gone
another steamer appeared, this time the Paris. It looked as though
we would soon lose all our pilots and have to return to New York.
After the pilot had gone aboard the Paris, however, the wind died
down and we sailed no more. Gradually the sea grew smoother, and
we experienced a day of perfect idleness. Hour after hour the boat
rocked like a cradle. Seagulls gathered around and dipped their
wings in charming circles. Flocks of ducks passed northward in
orderly flight, honking as they went. A little land-bird, a poor,
bedraggled sparrow, evidently blown to sea by adverse winds, found
rest and salvation in our rigging. Now it was perched upon the main
boom, and now upon the guy of the gaff-topsail, but ever and anon,
on this and the following day it could be seen, sometimes attempting
to fly shoreward, but always returning after a fruitless quest for land.
No vessel appeared, however. We merely rocked and waited.
The sailors in the forecastle told stories. The pilots in the rear
talked New York politics and criminal mysteries. The cook brewed
and baked. Night fell upon one of the fairest skies that it is given us
earthlings to behold. Stars came out and blinked. The lightship at
Sandy Hook cast a far beacon, but no steamer took another pilot
that day.
Once during the watch that night it seemed that a steamer far
off to the southeastward was burning a blue light, the signal for a
pilot. The man at the wheel scanned the point closely, then took a
lighted torch made of cotton and alcohol and circled it slowly three
times in the air. No answering blue light rewarded him. Another time
there grew upon the stillness the far-off muffled sound of a
steamer’s engine. You could hear it distinctly, a faint “Pump, pump,
pump, pump, pump.” But no light could be seen. The signal torch
was again waved, but without result. The distinct throb grew less
and less, and finally died away. Some of the pilots commented as to
this but could not explain it. They could not say why a vessel should
travel without lights at night.
At midnight a little breeze sprang up and the schooner cruised
about. In one direction appeared a faint glimmer, which when
approached, proved to be the riding light of a freight steamer at
anchor. All was still and dark aboard her, save for two or three red
and yellow lights, which gleamed like sleepless eyes out of the black
hulk. The man at the wheel called a sailor.
“Go forward, Johnnie,” he said, “and hail her. See if she wants a
pilot.”
The man went to the prow and stood until the schooner drew
quite near.
“Steamer, ahoy!” he bellowed.
No answer.
“Steamer, ahoy!” he called again. A light moved in the cabin of
the other vessel. Finally a voice answered.
“Want a pilot?” asked our sailor.
“We have one,” said the dim figure, and disappeared.
“Is it one of the pilots of your association that they have?” I
asked.
“Yes; they couldn’t have any other. They probably picked him up
from one of our far-out boats. Every incoming steamer must take a
pilot, you know. That’s the law. All pilots belong to this one
association. It’s merely a question of our being around to supply
them.”
It turned out from his explanation that the desire of the pilots to
get a steamer was merely to obtain their days off. When a pilot
brings in a steamer it is not likely that he will be sent out again for
three days. Each one puts in about the same number of days a
month, and all get the same amount of pay. There is no rivalry for
boats, and no loss of money by missing a steamer. If one boat
misses her, another is sure to catch her farther in. If she refuses to
take a pilot the Government compels her owners to pay a fine of
fifty dollars, the price of a pilot to take her in.
On the third day now breaking we were destined to lose another
pilot. It was one of the two inveterate pinochlers.
That night we anchored off Babylon, Long Island, in the stillest
of waters. The crew spent the evening lounging in their bunks and
reading, while the remaining pilots amused themselves as usual.
Two of them engaged for a time in a half-hearted game of cards.
One told stories, but with the departure of so many the spirits of the
company drooped. There was no breeze. The flap-flap of the sails
went on monotonously. Breakfast came, and then nine o’clock, and
still we rocked in one spot. Then a steamer appeared. As usual, it
was announced long before my untrained eyes could discern it. But,
with the first word, the remaining valiant pinochler went below to
pack. He was back in a few minutes, very much improved in spirits
and appearance.
“Does she starboard any?” he asked the man at the wheel.
The latter used the telescope and then said:
“Don’t seem to, sir.”
“Think she sees us?”
“Can’t tell, sir,” said the boatman gravely.
“Spec’ we’d better fire the gun, eh?”
“Yes, sir.”
“You strip the gun. I’ll take the wheel.”
So a little gun—a tiny cannon, no less—was made ready and
while it was being put in place at the lee rail, Germond, the oldest of
the pilots, came on deck and took the wheel.
“Going to fire the gun, eh?” he observed, in deep bass tones.
“Yes,” said the pinochler.
“Well, that’s right. Blaze away.”
The boatman, who had superintended the charging of the gun,
now pulled a wire attached to a cap and the little cannon spat out a
flame with a roar that shook the boat.
“Do they do this often?” I asked the footman.
“Not very. When fogs are on and boats can’t find us it comes in
handy. There’s hardly any use in this case. I guess she sees us.”
Germond, at the wheel, seemed to enjoy playing warship, for he
called out: “Fire again, Johnnie!”
“Won’t she turn?” asked the restless pinochler.
“Don’t seem to.”
“Then,” said he, and cast a droll look of derision upon the midget
cannon and the immense steamer, “sink her!”
With the third shot, however, we could see the steamer begin to
turn, and in a little while she was headed toward us. We could not
move and so we waited, while the anxious pinochler walked the
deck. Long before she was near he ordered the yawl ready, and
when she was yet three-quarters of a mile off, cast over and jumped
aboard. He seemed somewhat afraid the yawl would not be seen,
and so took along with him a pilot flag, which was a square of blue
cloth fastened to a long bamboo pole. This he held aloft as the men
rowed, and away they went far over the green sea.
The cook served coffee at three, and was preparing supper
when another steamer was sighted. She came up rapidly, a great
liner from Gibraltar, with a large company of Italians looking over the
rail.
“No supper for you,” said Germond. “You’ll have to eat with the
Dagos.”
“Oh, I don’t mind,” returned the other, smiling. “I want to get
back to New York.”
Just before supper, and when the sun was crimsoning the water
in the west, a “catspaw” came up and filled our sails. The boat
moved slowly off. At supper Germond announced:
“Well, I go now.”
“Is there a steamer?”
“No, but I go on the other pilot-boat. I see her over there. The
last man always leaves his boat and goes on one with more men.
That allows this boat to go back for another crew.”
“Do you get the first steamer in, on the other boat?”
“Yes, I have the first turn.” I understood now why our crew, at
the outset, objected to any pilots being taken on our boat. It
delayed the return of those on board to New York. “Steward!” called
Germond, finally, “tell one of the men back there to run up a signal
for the other boat.”
“Ay! Ay! sir!” called back the steward.
At half after six the other pilot-boat drew near and Germond
packed his sea clothes and came up on deck.
“Well, here she is, boys,” he said. “Now I leave you.”
They put out the yawl and he jumped in. When he had gone we
watched him climbing aboard the other schooner.
“Now for New York!” exclaimed McLaughlin, the boatswain, and
master of the crew in the absence of any pilot.
“Do we sail all night?”
“To get there by morning we’ll have to.”
All sails were then hoisted, and we bore away slowly. Darkness
fell. The stars came out. Far away the revolving light of the
Highlands of Navesink was our guide. Far behind, the little pilot-boat
which had received Germond was burning a beacon for some
steamer which had signaled a blue light. Gradually this grew more
and more dim, and the gloom enveloped all.
We sat with subdued spirits at the prow, discussing the dangers
of the sea. McLaughlin, who had been five years in the service, told
of accidents and disappearances in the past. Once, out of the night
had rushed a steamer, cutting a boat such as ours in two. One pilot-
boat that had gone out two years ago had never returned. Not a
stick or scrap was found to indicate what had become of her fifteen
men. He told how the sounding of the fog-horns had chilled his
heart the first year of his service, and how the mournful lapping of
the waters had filled him with dread. And as we looked and saw
nothing but blackness, and listened and heard nothing but the
sipping of the still waters, it did seem as though the relentless sea
merely waited its time. Some day it might have them all, sailor and
cook, and where now were rooms and lockers would be green water
and strange fishes.
That night we slept soundly. A fine wind sprang up, and when
morning came we were scurrying home over a thrashing sea. We
raced past Sandy Hook and put up the bay. By eight o’clock we were
at the Narrows, with the Battery in sight. The harbor looked like a
city of masts. After the lonely sea it seemed alive with a multitude of
craft. Tugs went puffing by. Scows and steamers mingled. Amid so
much life the sea seemed safe.
BUMS
Whenever I think of them I think of the spectacle that genius of

the burlesque world of my day, Nat Wills, used to present when, in
fluttering rags and tatters, his vestless shirt open at the breast,
revealing no underwear, his shoes three times too big, and torn and
cracked, a small battered straw hat, from a hole in which his hair
protruded, his trousers upheld by a string, and that indefinable smirk
of satisfaction of which he was capable flickering over his dirty and
unshaven face he was wont to strike an attitude worthy of a flight of
oratory, and exclaim: “Fifteen years ago to-day I was a poor,
dispirited, broken-down tramp sitting on a bench in a park, not a
shirt to my back. Not a decent pair of shoes on my feet. A hat with a
hole in it. No money to get a shave or a bath or a place to sleep. No
place to eat. Not a friend in the world to turn to. My torn and frayed
trousers held up by a string. Yet” (striking his chest dramatically)
“look at me now!” And then he would lift one hand dramatically, as
much as to say, “Could any change be greater?”
The humor was not only in the contrast which his words implied
and his appearance belied, but in a certain definite and not unkindly
characterization of the bum as such, that smug and even defiant
disregard of the conventions and amenities which characterizes so
many of them and sets them apart as a species quite distinct from
the body social—for that they truly are. And for that very reason
they have always had a peculiar interest for me, even a kind of
fascination, such as an arrestingly different animal might have for
others. And here in the great city, from time to time I have
encountered so many of them, suggesting not poverty or want but a
kind of devil-may-care indifference and even contempt for all that
society as we know it prizes so highly—order, cleanliness, a job, a
good suit of clothes, marriage, children, respected membership in
various orders, religion, politics—anything and everything that you
will. And yet, by reason of their antithesis and seeming antipathy to
all this, interesting.
For, say what you will, it does take something that is not social,
and most certainly independent, either in the form of thought or
temperament, to permit one to thus brazenly brave the notions and
the moods, to say nothing of the intellectual convictions, of those
who look upon the things above described as essential and
permanent. These astonishingly strange men, with their matted hair
over their eyes, their dirty skins, their dirty clothes, their large feet
encased in torn shoes, their hats with holes in them and their hair
actually protruding—just as though there were rules or conventions
governing them in the matter of dress. Along railroad tracks and
roads outside the large cities of the country I have seen them
(curiously enough, I have never seen a woman tramp), singly or in
groups, before a fire, the accredited tin can at hand for water, a
degenerate pail brought from somewhere in which something is
being cooked over a fire. And on occasion, as a boy, I have found
them asleep in the woods, under a tree, or in some improvised hole
in a hay or straw stack, snoring loudly or resting as only the just and
the pure in heart should rest.
But here in the great city I have always thought them a little
strange and out of place. They consort so poorly with the pushing,
eager, seeking throngs. And arrayed as they are, and as unkempt
and unwashed, not even the low-priced lodging houses of the
Bowery would receive them, and most certainly they would not pay
the price of fifteen or twenty cents which would be required to
house them, even if they had it. They are not of that kidney. And as
for applying to a police station at any time, it were better that they
did not. In bitter weather an ordinary citizen might do so with safety
and be taken care of, but these, never. They would be driven out or
sent to the Island, as the work-house here is called. Their principal
lodging resource in times of wintry stress appears to be some
grating covering a shaft leading to an engine room of some plant
operative the night through, from which warm air pours; or some
hallway in a public building, or the ultra-liberal and charitable
lodging house of some religious mission. Quite often on an icy night
I have seen not a few of them lying over the gratings of the subway
at Fourteenth Street and at other less conspicuous points, where,
along with better men than themselves, they were trusting to the
semi-dry warm air that poured up through to prevent death from
freezing. But the freeze being over, they would go their ways, I am
sure, and never mend them from any fear of a like experience.
And it is exactly that about them which has always interested
me. For, by and large, I have never been able to feel that they either
craved or deserved the need of that sympathy that we so freely
extend to others of a less sturdy and different character. In truth,
they are never as poor physically and nervously as many of those
who, though socially fallen, yet appear to be better placed in the
matter of clothes, food and mood. They are, in the main, neither
lean nor dispirited, and they take life with too jaunty an air to permit
one to be distressed about them. They remind me more of gulls or
moles, or some different and unsocial animal that still finds in man
his rightful prey or source of supply. And I am positive that theirs is
a disposition, either inherited or made so by circumstances, which
has not too much chemic opposition to their lackadaisical state, that
prefers it even to some other forms of existence. Summer or winter I
have seen them here and there, in the great city, but never in those
poorer neighborhoods, frequented by those who are really in need,
and always with the air of physical if not material comfort hovering
about them, and that in the face of garments that would better
become an ashcan than a man. The rags. The dirt. And yet how
often of a summer’s evening have I not seen them on the stones of
doorways and the planks of docks and lumber yards, warm and
therefore comfortable, resting most lazily and snoring loudly, as
though their troubles or irritations, whatever they were, were far
from them.
And in these same easier seasons have I not seen them making
their way defiantly or speculatively among the enormous crowds on
the principal streets of the city, gazing interestedly and alertly into
the splendid shopwindows, and thinking what thoughts and
contemplating what prospects! It is not from these that the burglars
are recruited or the pickpockets, as the police will tell you. And the
great cities do not ordinarily attract them; though they come,
occasionally, drawn, I suppose, by the hope of novelty, and
interested, quite as is Dives in Egypt or India, by what they see.
Now and then you will behold one, as have I, being “ragged” by one
of those idle mischievous gangs of the city into whose heartless
clutches he has chanced to fall. His hat will be seized and pulled or
crushed down over his eyes, his matted hair or beard pulled, straws
or rags or paper shoved between his back and his coat and himself
made into a veritable push-ball or punching-bag to be shoved here
and there, before he is allowed to depart. And for no offense other
than that he is as he is. Yet whether they are spiritually outraged or
depressed by this I would not be able to say. To me they have ever
appeared to be immune to what would spiritually degrade and hence
torture and depress another.
Their approach to life, if anything, appears to be one of hoyden
contempt for conventional processes of all kinds, a kind of parasitic
indifference to anything save their own comfort, joined with a not
unadmirable love for the out-of-doors and for change. So often, as I
have said, I have seen them about the great city, asleep in the cool
recesses of not-much-frequented doors and passageways, and in
lumberyards and odd corners, anywhere where they were not likely
to be observed. And my observation of them has led me to conclude
that they do not feel and hence do not suffer as do other and more
sensitive men. They are not interested in material prosperity as
such, and they will not work. If any one has ever seen one with that
haunted look which at times characterizes the eye of those who take
life and society so desperately and seriously, and that betokens one
whom life is able to torture, I have yet to hear of it.
But what an interesting and amazing spectacle they present, and
what amusing things are to be related of them! I personally have
seen a group of such rowdies, such as characterize some New York
street corners even to this day pouring wood-alcohol on one of these
fellows whom they chanced to find asleep, and then setting fire to it
in order to observe what would be the effect of the discovery by the
victim of himself in flames. And subsequently pursuing him down the
street with shouts and ribald laughter. On another occasion, in
Hudson Street, the quondam home of the Hudson Dusters, I have
seen six or eight of such youths pushing another one such about,
carrying him here and there by the legs and arms and tossing him
into the air above an old discarded mattress, until an irate citizen,
not to be overawed himself, and of most respectable and God-
fearing mien, chose to interfere and bring about a release. And in
another part of this same good city, that part of the waterfront
which lies east of South Ferry and south of Fulton Street, I have
seen one such most persistently and thoroughly doused by as many
as ten playful wags, all in line, yet at different doors, and each
discharging a can or a bucket of water upon the fleeing victim, who
sought to elude them by running. But, following this individual to see
what his mood might be, I could not see that he had taken the
matter so very much to heart. Once free of his pursuers, he made
his way to a dock, where, seated behind some boxes in the sun, he
made shift to dry himself and rest without appearing to fret over
what had occurred.
On one occasion I remember standing on the forward end of a
ferry boat that once plied between New York and Jersey City, the
terminal of one of the great railways entering the city, when one of
these peculiar creatures took occasion to make his very individual
point of view clear. It was late afternoon, and the forerunners of the
homeward evening rush of commuters were already beginning to
appear. He was dirty and unkempt and materially degraded as may
be, but not at all cast down or distrait. On the contrary. Having been
ushered to the dock by a stalwart New York policeman and put on
board and told never to return on pain of arrest, he was still in an
excellent mood in regard to it all. Heigh-ho! The world was not
nearly so bad as many made out. His toes sticking out, the ragged
ends of his coat flapping about him, a wretched excuse for a hat on
his head, he still trotted here and there, a genial and knowing gleam
in his eye, to say nothing of a Mona Liza-like leer about his mouth.
He surveyed us all, kempt and worthy exemplars of the proprieties,
with the air of one who says: “Well, well! Such decent and such silly
people. All sheep who know only the conventional ways and
limitations of the city and nothing else, creatures who look on me as
a wastrel, a failure and a ne’er-do-well. Nevertheless, I am not as
hopeless or as hapless as they think, the sillies.” And to make this
clear he strode defiantly to and fro, smirking now on one and now
on another, and coming near to one and again to another, thereby
causing each and every one to retreat for the very simple reason
that the odor of him was as unconventional as himself.
Finding himself thus evaded and rather scorned for this
procedure, he retired to the forward part of the deck for a time and
communed with himself; but not for long. For, deciding after all, I
presume, that this was a form of defeat and that he was allowing
himself to be unduly put upon or outplaced, at least, by
conventionalists, for whom he had absolutely no respect, he whirled,
and surveying the assembled company of commuters who had by
now gathered in a circle about him, like sheep surveying some
unwonted spectacle, he waved one hand dramatically and
announced: “I’m a dirty, drunken, blue-nosed bum, and I don’t give
a damn! See? See? I don’t give a damn!” and with that he caroled a
little tune, whistled, twiddled his fingers at all of us, did a light gay
step here and there, and then, lifting his torn coat-tails, shook them
defiantly and contemptuously in the face of all of us.
There were of course a few terrified squeaks from a few
horrified and sanctified maidens, old and young, who retreated to
the protection of the saloon behind. There were also dark and
reproving frowns from a number of solid and substantial citizens,
very well-dressed indeed, who pretended not to notice or who even
frowned on others for noticing. Incidentally, there were a few
delighted and yet repressed squeals from various youths and
commonplace nobodies, like myself, and eke a number of heavy
guffaws from more substantial citizens of uncertain origin and who
should have, presumably, known better.
Yet, after all, as I told myself, afterward, there was considerable
to be said for the point of view of this man, or object. It was at least
individual, characterful and forceful. He was, decidedly, out of step
with all those about him, but still in step, plainly, with certain
fancies, moods, conditions more suited to his temperament.
Decidedly, his point of view was that of the box-car, the railroad
track, the hay-pile and the roadside. But what of it? Must one
quarrel with a crow for being a crow, or with a sheep for being a
sheep? Not I.
And in addition, to prove that he really did not care a damn, and
that his world was his own, once the gates were lifted he went
dancing off the boat and up the dock, a jaunty, devil-may-care air
and step characterizing him, and was soon lost in the world farther
on. But about it all, as it seemed to me, there was something that
said to those of us who were left in the way, that he and his kind
were neither to be pitied nor blamed. They were as they were,
unsocial, unconventional, indifferent to the saving, grasping,
scheming plans of men, and in accord with moods if not plans of
their own. They will not, and I suspect cannot, run with the herd,
even if they would. And no doubt they taste a form of pleasure and
satisfaction that is as grateful to them as are all the moods and
emotions which characterize those who are so unlike them and who
see them as beings so utterly to be pitied or foresworn. At least I
imagine so.
THE MICHAEL J. POWERS ASSOCIATION
In an area of territory including something like forty thousand

residents of the crowded East Side of New York there dwells and
rules an individual whose political significance might well be a lesson
to the world.
Stout, heavy-headed and comfortably constituted, except in the
matter of agility, he walks; and where he is not a personal arbiter he
is at least a familiar figure. Not a saloon-keeper (and there is one to
every half-block) but knows him perfectly and would be glad to take
off his hat to him if it were expected, and would bring him into
higher favor. Not a street cleaner or street division superintendent,
policeman or fireman but recognizes him and goes out of his way to
greet him respectfully. Store-keepers and school children, the
basement barber and the Italian coal-dealer all know who is meant
when one incidentally mentions “the boss.” His progress, if one
might so term his daily meanderings, is one of continual triumph. It
is not coupled with huzzahs, it is true, but there is a far deeper and
more vital sentiment aroused, a feeling of reverence due a master.
I have in mind a common tenement residence in a crowded and
sometimes stifling street in this vicinity, where at evening the hand-
organs play and the children run the thoroughfare by thousands.
Poor, compact; rich only in those quickly withering flowers of flesh
and blood, the boys and girls of the city. It is a section from which
most men would flee when in search of rest and quiet. The carts and
wagons are numerous, the people are hard-working and poor. Stale
odors emanate from many hallways and open windows.
Yet here, winter and summer, when evening falls and the cares
of his contracting business are over for the day, this individual may
be seen perched upon the front stoop of his particular tenement

Immediate download Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans Test Bank all chapters

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Immediate download Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans Test Bank all chapters

Uploaded by

Document Information

Copyright

Available Formats

Share this document

Share or Embed Document

Sharing Options

Did you find this document useful?

Is this content inappropriate?

Copyright:

Available Formats

Immediate download Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans Test Bank all chapters

Uploaded by

Copyright:

Available Formats

Full download solution manual or testbank at testbankdeal.

Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans

Download more solution manual or test bank from https://testbankdeal.com

Technology In Action Complete 12th Edition Evans Solutions

Technology In Action Complete 9th Edition Evans Test Bank

Technology In Action Complete 14th Edition Evans Test Bank

Elementary and Middle School Mathematics Teaching

Canadian Industrial Relations 3rd Edition Peirce Test Bank

College Algebra 11th Edition Lial Solutions Manual

Understanding the American Promise A History Volume II

Statistics For Business Decision Making And Analysis 2nd

6) Which of the following provides a visual representation of the patterns of an algorithm?

7) ________ is a combination of natural language and programming language that is used to

10) The flowchart shape for a process is a(n) ________.

14) A first-generation language is ________.

16) SQL is an example of a ________.

17) Which statement does NOT describe fifth-generation languages?

18) Translating an algorithm into a programming language is called ________.

20) ________ is the instructions programmers have written in a higher-level language.

21) An integrated development environment (IDE) is a ________.

26) A small Java-based program is called a ________.

30) Corona and Magmito can be used to develop ________.

31) SDLC stands for ________.

38) The flowchart shape for a binary decision is a(n) ________.

41) In object-oriented terms, an original class is called the ________ class.

43) SQL stands for ________.

48) IDE stands for ________.

53) The acronym HTML stands for ________.

61) The flowchart shape for input or output is an oval.

62) A data-flow diagram provides a visual representation of an algorithm.

67) Second-generation languages are also known as assembly languages.

70) Syntax errors are caught only when a program executes.

71) Match each of the following generations to its language:

73) Match each of the following terms to its definition:

75) Match each of the following terms to its definition:

A. program instructions written in a higher-level language

I sometimes think no human being ever lived who caught more

An ocean pilot-boat lay off Tompkinsville of an early spring

Whenever I think of them I think of the spectacle that genius of

In an area of territory including something like forty thousand

You might also like