Joe was reeling himself. He stuck his head in a bucket of water and cleaned up the cabin and threw the bottles overboard and started working on the claxon regularly. To hell with ‘em, he kept saying to himself, he wouldn’t be a plaster saint for anybody. He was feeling fine, he had something more to do than spin that damn claxon. Old man Gaskin came on board about day. Joe could see he’d gotten wind of something because after that he never would speak to him except to give orders and wouldn’t let his boy speak to him; so that when theyd unloaded the granite blocks in East New York, Joe asked for his pay and said he was through. Old man Gashin growwled out it was a good ridddance and that he wouldn’t have no boozin; and whorin on his barge. So there was Joe with fortyfive dollars in his pocket walking through Red Hook looking for a boarding house.