February 22, 2005
Bret Harte and the Outpoke of Flaster's Cat
Yes, I am mocking my fellow "lit students" again. No, I'm not sorry about it, unless by "it" you mean the fact that they are in the class.
The Outcasts of Poker Flat by Bret Harte
Fantastic short story . . . reminded me quite a bit of O. Henry, but with a gloomier ending than he normally supplied. My four-word summary runs something like this: "Snow falls, everybody dies." Somehow I don't think I can get away with just that, so here we go.
John Oakhurst, professional gambler and temporary resident of a small Western settlement called Poker Flat, awakes the morning after a reprehensible run of lawlessness to find his limited influence with the townsfolk rapidly on the wane. Escaping summary execution by an uncomfortably narrow margin, Oakhurst is exiled from the town with a handful of other undesirables: a scarlet woman known as "The Duchess," the local witc-- errr, herbalist, "Mother Shipton," and "Uncle Billy," shameful drunkard, ornery cuss, and all-around no-goodnik.
The four strike out for Sandy Bar, camping that night near a deserted cabin in the mountains several miles away from town. Here they are joined by "The Innocent" (a man named Tom Simson, once fleeced by Oakhurst before having his money returned and leaving the saloon a wiser man and loyal friend of the gambler). The Innocent has his 15-year old fiancée, the hilariously-named Piney Woods, in tow, and the two decide it would be a good idea to set up shop among the outcasts (not knowing, of course, that this is what they have become).
The next morning, Oakhurst experiences his second rude awakening in a row. The treacherous Uncle Billy has absconded with the mules, and the rest of the party is fairly well snowed in. Oakhurst avoids communicating the true gravity of the situation to Piney and The Innocent, who offer to share their provisions and generally contribute to the group morale as they all try to wait out the weather.
As the food and firewood are carefully rationed over the course of several days, the situation becomes steadily more desperate. Mother Shipton, who has been hoarding her rations and starving herself, leaves them in the care of Oakhurst to give to Piney, and then proceeds to die of . . . well, starvation (duh).
Oakhurst makes a pair of snowshoes out of a pack saddle and sends The Innocent to Poker Flat to get help . . . He has two days if he is to have any hope of returning to find the survivors still alive. Oakhurst leaves the camp to see The Innocent off a little ways, and doesn't return. Piney and The Duchess die in each others' arms and are buried beneath a blanket of snow. When the rescuers make their slightly belated entrance, Oakhurst's grave is discovered nearby, marked with the deuce of clubs and an epitaph announcing the cause of death as "a streak of bad luck." Lying beneath the snow with one of his own bullets in his heart, he is declared both the strongest and weakest of his fellow outcasts.
This is a great story that is really brought to life by its characters. Like almost everything we've read this semester, the story takes our moral expectations and turns them on their ear. The townsfolk who force the outcasts to leave are no doubt guilty of indulging in the same vices as the exiles. It is certainly to be expected that a new gang of the same types of people will be welcomed back within a very short time of the departure of the first group. The ritual cleansing of the town is meaningless but for the temporary salving of guilty consciences.
Meanwhile, the exiles display all sorts of admirable qualities (all save Uncle Billy, the only really bad apple in the barrel). Oakhurst, though a gambler, is a strong, courageous leader who operates under his own strict code of ethics which includes a great sense of personal honor, nobility, compassion, and respect for his fellow man. The Duchess and Mother Shipton rise to the challenge of protecting the innocence of the young Piney, ironically taking on the role of mothers to her.
Mother Shipton, in particular, makes the ultimate sacrifice to try and keep Piney alive. The Duchess and Piney comfort each other during their last moments, and The Duchess' redemption is apparent from the innocent expression on her dead face. Oakhurst's death, too, represents self-sacrifice . . . at least partially. Having fashioned a pair of snow shoes, he could easily have used them himself, with the handy excuse of going to get help besides. Somehow, though, I think he knows that rescue will be too late, and having sent off the young man he saved once before, he is faced with the looming prospect of imminent death (not just his own, but that of the women as well).
Having made the final push to ensure the salvation of at least one of the group, Oakhurst is unable to face the horrors of death from starvation or exposure. Nor does he wish to witness the deaths of the two women. He has done all that he can do, and he reserves for himself the gambler's right to fold when his hand is up.
Harte, as the author of the story, knows best, I'm sure, but the more I examine the situation, the less I see Oakhurst's final action as weakness. It seems like a perfectly rational action made by a level-headed individual who knew that his time had come, one way or another. Because of this, I have the most annoying sense that I'm missing something important. I even toyed briefly with the idea that Oakhurst had shot The Innocent and then made it look like his body lay there before donning the snow shoes and escaping . . . Except that really doesn't work. I guess Harte and I just have a difference of opinion. Go figure.
And to all you retarded homophobes out there (be you Californians, or merely stupid): There aren't any lesbians in this story. Drop it before Coppinger has to hurt you.
*shakes head* Little turkeys . . .
Posted by Jared at February 22, 2005 02:08 AM | TrackBack