The bird of Manhatten

Chapter 22 - in which the way for many futures is laid

July 1899
At many places in Manhattan, New York City
Jacks P.O.V.

We'se standin' in front of da woild buildin'. Again.
I sigh an' sit down on the statue of Horace Greene.
Da sun's boinin' down, da boys's all skittery.
Skittery and Mush restlessly walk around the statue, drivin' everyone mad.
Davey's leanin' next ta me.
Mags is feedin' boids.
What if dey don't come?
What if I failed again?
Da time flies by, wit'out anythin' that happens.
Da fellas try ta motivate me.
I's about ta give up when suddenly...
Voices.
Hundreds of voices.
Very quiet, faintly in da distance, growin' louder an' louder every second.
An' then I see 'em.
Hundreds of children and teens swapin' onto the place like a wave of the anger of people, dat finally break free from their oppression.
Hundreds of children dat is tired of bein' da little guys, da guys no one cares for.
Hundreds of children raisin' their voices against their bosses and cops.
Hundreds of children joinin' our strike.
Hundreds of children cheerin', celebratin' da strike.

Filled with new hope Davey an' I make our way into da da Woild boildin'.
This time no one can stop us!
I open da doors ta da woild (wit'out knockin'), a copy of da Children's crusade in my hand.
His butlers make ways foa us.
But at da second door, da door to his office, I suddenly become shy. A bit afraid even.
But I take a deep breath, shove all worries aside, step forward ta da desk, lay da pape down on it an' say: "Extry, extry, Joe. Read all 'bout."
"I promised I'd break you.", Pulitzer says, makin' an... awkward movement wit' his hands dat definitely doesn't mean "break". "I'll keep that promise, boy. Now I gave you a chance to be free, I don't understand."
I stick my hands in my pockets.
"Everyone who doesn't act in his own self-interests is a fool.", he continues.
"Then what makes that you?", Davey asked from behind me.
"What?", Pulitzer asks, seemingly only now realisin' Dave's even here.
"Oh, dat's my pal, David.", I introduce 'em. "Da walkin' mouth."
"Oh yeah. David.", Pulitzer repeats.
Davey then gives a speech about how Pulitzer also didn't act in his own self-interests. About how da pape is down 70 per cent. About Pulitzer's loosing thousands of dollars because of da strike.
Very imperssin' if I may say.
"Why?", Dave eventually ends his speech.
Pulitzer doesn't answer, so I do it foa him.
"Oh, ya see, dat ain't 'bout money, Dave. If Joe gives in ta nobodies like us... that means we got da power."
Pulitzer jus' continues ta smoke.
So, I jus' continue ta badge him. "He can't do dat, no matter what it costs.... Ain't dat right, Joe?"
"I'll call the police.", he answers calmy. "They'll be here any minute."
"Oh, I won't go back ta jail.", I say, makin' my way around da desk ta da window.
That's where da power is.", I say an' open it. As I's done, da voices from outside become so loud, one hardly can understand ones' own woids.
"Close it! Close the window!", Pulitzer yells at me. To the fellas down on the street he yells: "Go home."
"I can't hear ya.", I yell back.
"Go home!", he tries again.
Then he gives up an' goes back in.
There I finally get ta say anythin'. I explain dat those kids won't jus' go away, an' dat puttin' me inta jail won't do anythin' eighter.
"Dat's da power of da press, Joe.", I say triumphal an' go ta close da window. "Thanks, foa teachin' me 'bout it."
Now, Pulitzer actually reads our pape.
"I ordered a printing ban. Who defied me? Whose press did you use?"
"Whose press? Please.", I say innocent. "We'se your loyal employees. We'd never print somewhere else. So, let me say it again. Thank ya."

We exit da big cold buildn'.
Da fellas is waitin' foa us, an excided tension layin' on 'em.
I bow down ta Les an' whisper: "We won." inta his ear.
He looks up at me, his eyes full off joy. I pick him up an' sit him down on my shoulders.
"We won!", he shouts ova all da heads of all da kids.
There's a short realisin' silence, which ends abruptly wit' loud cheerin'.
Mags suddenly is there an' hugs me tightly.
Everyone's happy... until... a whistle.
Da bulls.
Da fellas quickly shieldin' us.
But before we can away, Denton suddenly appears.
He tells us not ta worry an' really. Dey's not here ta bring us back ta jail... no, dey's here ta get all da kids from da refuge outta jail!
Soon Crutchie is layin' in Mags arms, who is cryin' tears of joy.
Teddy Roosevelt joins us too, congratulatin' us ta our successful strike an' offerin' me a ride, to wherever I want.
"So... He can give me a ride ta da train station?", I ask, still not really believin', what jus' happened.
"If that is, what you want.", Denton answers.
Excited I look at Mags, who's standin' right beside me. "Ya comin' wit' me, little sista?"
But she sadly smiles an' shakes her head. "No, Jack. I's sorry. I can't... I got family here, ya know?"
"So... we part here?"
"Looks like it."
"Well then. Farewell Magpie. I hope ta see ya again (It's only a matter of time. I'm sorry I had to.)." I hug her.
She smiles as she hugs me back. "Send me a post card, Cowboy.", she mumbles in my shirt.
"Promise." I kiss her hair, let her go an' climb into da carriage.