GIBBONS knew that Monkton and Hope had gone to the Continent before
Marsten shouted out this bit of information on the street in presence
of the men. He saw that the game was up, and all he wanted was time in
which to beat a retreat, posing, if possible, as the man who had brought
about a settlement. As soon as Gibbons learned that the two nominal
masters had gone, he tried to open communications with Sart-well, and
sent a private letter to him, saying that, taking into consideration
the privations of the men, and the large money loss to the firm, he was
willing to sink all personal feelings and waive the proviso heretofore
insisted upon regarding a meeting between the manager and himself.
Gibbons expressed his willingness to withdraw from the conflict, and
have a committee of the men appointed to wait upon Sartwell to arrange
for the termination of the strike, but asked that his letter be regarded
as confidential.
Sartwell, with perhaps unnecessary contempt, returned the letter to
Gibbons, saying curtly to the bearer that there was no answer.
It is usually unwise to humiliate unduly a beaten adversary; but
Sartwell was not versed in the finer arts of courtesy, and, when he
hated a man, he hated him thoroughly, caring little for any reprisal his
enemy might attempt.
Gibbons had ground his teeth in helpless rage when his letter was
returned to him. He saw that no concession he could make would placate
Sartwell; so, as the strike was doomed, he resolved to make the best
of the inevitable retreat. The committee agreed that it was no longer
possible to hold out, although they had refused Marsten’s request that a
meeting be called and a vote taken. It was resolved that they convene
a meeting at once, not waiting for nightfall (hoping in this way to
deprive Marsten of any credit that might accrue from the surrender), and
march the men in a body from the hall to the works, where the committee,
with the exception of Gibbons, would precede them, to induce the manager
to open the gates. Gibbons would then be able to say that he, not
Marsten, had ended the strike; and he might even enact the _rôle_ of a
benefactor, who had sacrificed his own feelings in the interests of the
men.
But luck was against Gibbons that day. When he reached the works he
found Marsten there haranguing his fellow-workmen, imploring them to
give in before it was too late, assuring them the two buildings would
be full of workers on Monday, and then all efforts to enter would be
fruitless. It was very apparent that the young man was already angered
at the slight effect his appeal was making on the seeming indifference
of the men, and, if Gibbons had been less angry from the rebuff he had
received from the manager, he might have taken advantage of the position
and scored. As it was, he had little time for planning any new line
of procedure. The moment he appeared, Marsten demanded that a meeting
should be instantly called and a vote taken. Gibbons asked him to mind
his own business, saying he had an appointment with the owners of
the works, and there would be a meeting to consider their reply. Then
Gibbons learned that his falsehood was useless and that Marsten knew the
owners had fled.
At this point the unexpected advent of Braunt, and the results that
followed, tumbled all schemes to the ground like a house of cards.
Braunt, if he had thought about the matter (which he had not), was
revenged at the end of the strike for his ignominious ejection from the
hall at the beginning.
Gibbons retired with the committee to consult over the new situation. It
was a gloomy consultation. As the men came out of the small gate one by
one, each with half a week’s wages in his pocket and a packet of tobacco
in his hand, Scimmins and another member of the committee stood outside,
proclaiming that a meeting was called for that night, to discuss the
events of the day in a friendly manner. No man answered; each hurried
away to get something to eat or drink; nor did any appear that night
at Salvation Hall. Next morning Scimmins and his fellow-committeemen
applied to Sartwell for reinstatement, and were given their old places.
Gibbons resigned the secretaryship of the Union, and his resignation
was accepted, somewhat to his surprise; as he, knowing the men had been
practically unanimous in bringing on the strike, expected to be asked
to keep the office, with perhaps a vote of formal thanks. However, all
blame for the failure was promptly placed on his shoulders, and he found
himself suddenly called upon to seek another situation. His bitterness
against Sartwell deepened into virulent hatred, and he heaped
maledictions on the heads of the men whom so short a time ago he had
swayed this way and that whenever he addressed them.
The morning after the surrender the gates stood invitingly open, and
black smoke poured from the tall chimneys. The women and girls, who
worked on the upper floors, were the first to come, and their pale faces
turned in a look of mute thankfulness towards the banner of smoke flying
above them like a signal of rescue. They had had no voice in bringing on
the strike, and no voice in its cessation. No one during its continuance
had been anxious to know whether they lived or died when strike pay
ceased.
Before the day was done, work was going as smoothly as if nothing had
happened. The men were at first afraid that Sartwell might pick and
choose among them, and that some of them might be marked men because of
what had been done on the day of the riot, but it soon became evident
that no distinction was to be made.
Just as the men had settled down to a comfortable frame of mind
regarding the point that had given them anxiety, they were startled from
their complacency by an unexpected incident. Marsten was discharged. On
the first regular pay-day the young man received what was due him, and
a month’s money besides. The cashier told him that his services would
no longer be required in the factory. Marsten was so dazed by this
unexpected intimation that he asked for no explanation, but walked
away with his money in his hand. He knew well why he had been so
unceremoniously dismissed, but it seemed to him unfair that the manager
should use his power against him for what was entirely a personal
quarrel, and not through any fault in his work. He counted the money
automatically three or four times, without the process conveying to his
mind anything definite about the sum that had been paid him. At last he
noticed that Sartwell had apparently ordered four times as much to be
given him as was legally his due with a notice to quit. Marsten went
back to the cashier and said:
“There’s a month’s money here: I am only entitled to a week’s notice.”
“You’d better keep what you’ve got,” replied the cashier. “I was told
to pay you a month’s wages and discharge you. The money isn’t mine; it’s
yours, and you’re a fool if you part with it for nothing.”
“I’ll take only what is my due,” said Marsten. “Give the remainder to
Mr. Sartwell, and tell him I want none of his generosity.”
“It’s no affair of mine,” remarked the cashier. “I suppose you know what
the trouble is--I don’t. If you are wise you won’t send any such message
to the manager, but you will go quietly and see him. Perhaps a few words
of explanation will set matters right; anyhow, nothing is to be gained
by flying into a temper about it. That isn’t the way to get back into
the works.”
“I’m not in a temper,” replied Marsten, “and I’m not going back into the
works--no, not if Sartwell asks me to. You may tell him that when I come
back it will be as master of these shops, with his power broken--you
tell him that.”
“Oh, very well. If you think to frighten a man like Mr. Sartwell with
great talk, you’ll be disappointed.”
Marsten turned away, and found Braunt standing outside the gates.
“Ah’m waitin’ for ’ee, lad, and Ah thought thou might ’a gone oot
wi’ first lot, but porter said thou hadn’t. Coom whoam wi’ me, Marsten;
Ah’m main lonely an’ want some’un ta speak wi’. Ah donno what’s wrong
wi’ me, but there’s summat. Ma head’s queer. Ah’m hearin’ the _Dead
March_ night and day, an’ it’s soundin’ solemner an’ solemner till it
frightens me. Will ye walk wi’ me, lad?”
“Yes, willingly. Don’t you find your work makes things easier? I thought
that would help.”
“Ah’ve been too long idle, lad. Work doesn’t do what it used to. Ah
used to lose maself in’t, but now Ah just seem in a dream, thinkin’,
thinkin’; an’ when one speaks ta me sudden, Ah have to pull maself back
from a distance like, before Ah can understand what’s said; an’ all th’
while the throb d’ the machinery is beat in’ out the _Dead March_. Once
or twice Ah’ve seen Langly sittin’ playin’ at the far end o’ the room
wi’ the machines all answerin’ to his fingers, while Ah knew he’d ne’er
been i’ the shops in’s life. Ah’ve stood there wi’ ma jaw hangin’ an’
wi’ people lookin’ at me curious. Then when Ah’d rubbed ma eyes, Langly
was gone, but the machinery kept on an’ on.”
“Oh, you mustn’t think too much about what is past, Braunt. Everything
will be all right in a little while. Stick hard at your work; that’s the
main thing. You are foreman of the upper room now, aren’t you?”
“Yes. Sartwell’s been kind ta me. Ah! he’s a man, Sartwell is. There’s
no waverin’ about him.”
“That’s true.”
“He sticks by them as sticks by him, as a man should. Has he said
anythin’ to you, since the strike ended?”
“No.”
“You’re young, but your time’ll come. You stand by Sartwell an’ he’ll
see you through. He knows how you tried to end the strike, an’ he’ll not
forget. Ah’ll drop in a word for ye when Ah get the chance.”
“I wish you wouldn’t do that.”
“Why? It’ll do no harm.”
“It will do no good.”
Braunt paused in his walk and looked closely at his companion. “What’s
the matter wi’ thee, lad? Ye seem cast down, an’ here Ah’m talkin’ away
about maself, an’ payin’ no heed to aught else. What’s wrong wi’ ye?”
“Well, as you will have to know sooner or later, and there’s no use
making a secret of it, Sartwell has discharged me.”
“No!” cried Braunt, incredulously, stopping short and turning to his
friend.
“Yes, he has.”
“In God’s name, what for?”
“No reason was given. The cashier gave me a month’s wages and told me
to go. I gave back three-fourths of it, for I’m entitled to but a week’s
notice. I’ll have no favour from Sartwell.”
“Ah, lad, there ye were foolish. Never give back money when you’ve got
your fingers on it. Ye hurt yourself an’ not the others. Still, Ah’d
very likely a’ done the same thing; but then, Ah’m a fool, an’ not to be
taken pattern by. Have ye asked Sartwell the reason?”
“I have not seen him, nor will I.”
“Wrong again, lad. Let’s go back now, an’ have it out wi’ him before he
goes whoam.”
“No, no, I refuse to see him.”
“Then Ah’ll see him. A thing like that mustn’t be. Discharged for no
cause! Never! Ah’ve brought back the men, an’ Ah can bring them out
again. Ah will, too, before Ah’ll let injustice like this happen!”
“What good would that do? The men are helpless, as you know; besides,
they wouldn’t come out, and, if they thought of doing so, I would myself
beg of them to stay in their places. No, the proper thing now is to keep
quiet; work hard; fill up the empty treasury; organize the trade--not
locally, but universally; and see, when the next strike comes on, that
we are not led by a fool like Gibbons.”
“But lad, don’t ye want to find out why you’re paid off? It’s rank
injustice, but there must be some reason for’t in Sartwell’s mind. Ye’ve
like said some foolish thing that’s been misrepresented to him, an’ Ah’m
sure Ah can put it straight. Ah didn’t think Sartwell was the man t’
listen t’ any jabber that was brought t’ him, but one can never tell.”
“You’re quite right about Sartwell. He wouldn’t pay attention to talk
that came to him, no matter what the talk was. No, it’s deeper than
that. He knows my opinions about the proper organization of the men, but
that wouldn’t influence him for a moment. Because I said no reasons were
given, you mustn’t think I don’t know why he turned me adrift. I do, but
it’s not a subject I care to talk about, even with you, Mr. Braunt. Only
I should like you to understand that interference will do no good. I
should like to drop out quietly and have nothing said. Remember that
I, knowing all the circumstances, am not sure but that, were I in his
place, I should have acted exactly as Sartwell has done. I’m not going
to have this made into a grievance, for I don’t want it talked about.
The main fact to know is that Sartwell and I are enemies, and there can
be no peace between us until one or other is defeated. If you could talk
Sartwell into asking me to come back,--and you know the difficulty there
would be in that,--I wouldn’t go back. So you understand the uselessness
of seeing Mr. Sartwell.”
“But lad, how are ye t’ live?”
Marsten laughed.
“Oh, I’ll have no difficulty in making a living. Don’t you fear. I’ll
stick by the Union too, and some day I hope to show Sartwell how a
strike should be conducted.”
“Right ye are, if that’s the game!” cried Braunt, bringing his hand
down on the other’s shoulder. “Ah don’t believe much in strikes, but
Ah believe in ye! Ah’ll see the men to-night, an’ All’ll have ye made
secretary to th’ Union. That will be our answer ta Sartwell. Then, lad,
ye can have enough to live on, and ye can put the pieces o’ th’ Union
together ta suit ye.”
“I should like that,” said Marsten, eagerly.
“It shall be done. The men will go in for it when they hear ye’ve got
the sack. They still feel sore over the defeat, as if it wasn’t all
their own fault; and now their fear of Sartwell’s packing some o’ them
off is over, they’ll like to show a little independence by electing you,
to prove to the manager that they’re not afraid, which they are. Ah’ll
have to convince them that Sartwell won’t strike back or take your
appointment as a defiance.”
“But perhaps he will.”
“Not him. He was as sick o’ the strike as any one. No. He’ll shrug his
shoulders, but he’ll say nothing. Ah’m certain that if Gibbons had
had the sense to go to the masters at the first, he would have broken
Sartwell long since. An’ that was what Sartwell was afraid of, Ah’ll
be bound. His greatest stroke was getting Monkton and Hope out of the
country. It was your visit to Hope did that. Sartwell saw ye’d put your
finger on the weak spot; an’ Ah’ll warrant, if we knew the ins and outs
of it, Sartwell threatened ta chook up the whole business if they didn’t
leave, and they left. Ah! he’s a man as can fight, is Sartwell.”
They had reached the court shortly before their conversation had arrived
at this point, and Marsten sat down with his host. The room was barer
than such places usually are, for every pawnable or salable thing had
been removed from time to time as the siege went on. The empty space
where the old harmonium had stood made the room seem larger than it
really was.
“Yes,” said Braunt with a sigh, noticing Marsten’s eye wandering to the
vacant spot, “it was the last thing that went before Jessie died. We
pawned it, thinking we’d get it back again, but Ah’ll never take it
back. Ah’m glad it’s gone. Ah couldn’t bear to look at it. But let’s not
talk of what’s away, but o’ what’s here. Ye’re still thinkin’ ye can do
somethin’ for the workin’ man by organization?”
“I’m sure of it.”
Braunt shook his head.
“Ye won’t, my lad, but Ah’ll do my best to get ye the chance ta try.
Just look at what has happened. They let Gibbons go without a word: he
was a fool, perhaps, but he worked hard for them, an’ they don’t even
say thankee. An’ they’ll do the same wi’ ye. They’ll do the same wi’ any
one.”
“It all depends on how they are led. When men are foolishly led, they
soon find it out and lose confidence. Think what a man like Napoleon
might have accomplished if he had led workingmen instead of soldiers,
and had turned his talents to bettering his fellow-men instead of
butchering them!”
“Napoleon could have done nothin’. He could have done nothin’ wi’
soldiers, even, if it had not been for one power which ye can never
have.”
“What is that?”
“The power o’ orderin’ a man out o’ the ranks, an’ havin’ him shot. If
Ah’d that power Ah’d lead the men maself, an’ get them anythin’ they
wanted. The State will let you slowly starve a hundred men to death and
never interfere, but if ye shot even Gibbons there’d be a row about it.
An’ yet we think we’re civilized! Ah say we’re savages.”
“Oh, that’s wrong, Braunt!” cried Marsten, rising. “We’re long past
that stage. If I get the reorganizing of the Union, I’ll try a fall with
Sartwell some day, and will down him without shooting anybody.”
“Very well, lad, Ah’ll do ma best for ye, an’ wish ye luck.”
Braunt did his best, and the next week Marsten was unanimously made
secretary of the Union by men who had looked upon him as a traitor only
a few weeks before.