The train to town was full to overflowing. The northside people,
having heard of yesterday's doings, were going up to see for
themselves "what them toots in Douglas" were doing.
In spite of the guard's deferential protests Stowell stepped into an
open third-class carriage. It had been humming like a beehive until
then, but except for a general salutation it became silent when he
entered.
A draper's assistant who sat opposite handed him an English
newspaper, two days old, with an article on the escape from Castle
Rushen. The incident was a disgrace to the insular administration,
and if the Governor could not offer a satisfactory explanation the
sooner the island's Home Rule came to an end the better for Justice.
One or two of the passengers tried to draw Stowell into conversation
about the article, but he said little or nothing. Then some
black-coated persons (well-to-do farmers and the like) gave the talk
another turn.
"Still and for all," said one, "that doesn't justify such doings as
there are in Douglas!" "Chut!" said another. "It isn't justice the
agitators are wanting, it's robbery." "Truth enough," said a third,
"it's the land they're after, and if the Governor isn't doing
something soon, there'll be not an acre left at the one of us."
"Give them a pig of their own sow," said a fat farmer. "Men like
Qualtrough and Baldromma ought to be taken to say and dropped
overboard."
Again the passengers tried to draw Stowell into conversation, and
when they found they could not get him to speak to them they spoke at
him.
"Where's the big men of the island that they're not telling the
people they're bringing it to wreck and ruin?"
"When a man is claver--claver uncommon--and mighty with the tongue,
he ought to be showing the ignorant gommerals the way they're going."
"Yes," said a little man (he was a local preacher), "when a man has
the gift it's his duty to the Lord to use it."
"He must be a right man though," said the fat farmer, "straight as a
mast himself, same as some we've had at Ballamoar in the good ould
days gone by."
There was silence for a moment after this, and then an old man by the
opposite window was heard to whisper,
"Lave him alone, men; he knows what hour the clock is striking."
When the train reached Douglas, Stowell went off with a heavy face.
It was remarked that he had not shaken hands--his father used to
shake hands with everybody.
"He's his father's son for all," said the old man by the window.
Stowell took the cable-car at the bottom of the Prospect Hill which
is at the foot of the town. Douglas was still in a state of
agitation and the driver had as much as he could do to forge his way,
without accidents, through the tumultuous throngs in the thoroughfare.
A cordon of red-coated soldiers from Castletown surrounded Government
office, and a noisy crowd (including women with children) were
jeering at them from the middle of the street, and shouting up at the
windows, under the impression that the Governor was within.
The shops bore signs of yesterday's rioting---many having their
shutters up, while the windows of others were barricaded with new
boarding.
Stowell got out of the car at the terminus and made the rest of his
journey afoot. At the top of the hill, where the road turns towards
the Governor's house, he came upon a mass meeting. From a horseless
lorry, decorated with banners, a burly old ruffian with shaggy grey
hair (Qualtrough, M.H.K.) was speaking in a voice of thunder, while,
on the cross-seat by his side, Dan Baldromma was sitting with the air
of a martyr.
"There's a man on this platform who has gone to prison for his
principles. That's what Justice in the Isle of Man is. And that's
what they would like to be doing with the lot of ye, the big ones of
the island. But, gentlemen and ladies, their rotten ould ship is
floating on the pumps and she'll soon be sinking."
When Stowell reached the Governor's gate he paused, being out of
breath and not so strong as he had imagined. From that point he
could see a broad stretch of the coast, as well as the shadowy
outlines of the English hills on the other side of the channel. A
steamer was sailing into the bay. Perhaps she was bringing the
English cavalry the Governor had sent for.
Life is sweet when death is at the door. At that last moment,
although he had thought his mind was made up, Stowell found that his
heart was failing him. Must he go on? Deliberately destroy himself?
No outside power compelling him? The world was wide--why not leave
all this wreck and ruin behind him and in some other country begin
life anew?
The moment of weakness passed and he went on. Half way up the drive,
where the trees broke clear and the long white façade of Government
House became visible, he dropped his head. He was thinking of the
last time he had been there and remembering again the stinging words
with which Fenella had driven him away. But there was strength in
the thought that he was about to break the chain which he had dragged
after him so long, and save his people at the same time.
When the maid opened the door, he asked for the Governor.
"Yes, your Honour," said the maid, "but Miss Fenella wishes to see
you first, Sir."
His heart was beating hard when he stepped into the house.