Farnham lost no time in calling upon the Mayor to fulfil his
engagement. He found his Honor a little subdued by the news of the
morning. None of the strikers of the day before had gone back to work,
and considerable accessions were reported from other trades. The worst
symptoms seemed to be that many shops were striking without orders. The
cessation of work was already greater than seemed at first contemplated
by the leading agitators themselves. They seemed to be losing their own
control of the workingmen, and a few tonguey vagrants and convicts from
the city and from neighboring towns, who had come to the surface from
nobody knew where, were beginning to exercise a wholly unexpected
authority. They were going from place to place, haranguing the workmen,
preaching what they called socialism, but what was merely riot and
plunder. They were listened to without much response. In some places
the men stopped work; in others they drove out the agitators; in others
they would listen awhile, and then shout, "Give us a rest!" or "Hire a
hall!" or "Wipe off your chir!" But all the while the crowds gradually
increased in the streets and public places; the strike, if it promised
nothing worse, was taking the dimensions of a great, sad, anxious
holiday. There was not the slightest intention on the part of the
authorities to interfere with it, and to do them justice, it is hard to
see what they could have done, with the means at their disposal. The
Mayor, therefore, welcomed Farnham with great cordiality, made him a
captain of police, for special duty, on the spot, and enrolled his list
of recruits of the night before as members of the police force of the
city, expressly providing that their employment should cost the city
nothing, now or hereafter.
Farnham again made his rounds of the city, but found nothing especially
noteworthy or threatening. The wide town, in spite of the large crowds
in the streets, had a deserted look. A good many places of business
were closed. There was little traffic of vehicles. The whistle of the
locomotives and the rush of trains--sounds which had grown so familiar
in that great railroad centre that the ear ceased to be affected by
them--being suddenly shut off, the silence which came in their place
was startling to the sense. The voices of the striking employees, who
retained possession of the Union Passenger Depot, resounded strangely
through the vast building, which was usually a babel of shrill and
strident sounds.
On the whole, the feature which most struck him in this violent and
unnatural state of things was the singular good-nature of almost all
classes. The mass of the workingmen made no threats; the greater number
of employers made no recriminations. All hoped for an arrangement,
though no one could say how it was to come. The day passed away in
fruitless parleys, and at night the fever naturally rose, as is the way
of fevers.
When nightfall came, the crowd had become so great, in the public
square that Farnham thought it might be better not to march his
improvised policemen in a body up-town. He therefore dispatched orders
to Kendall to send them up with their arms, singly or by twos and
threes, to his house. By eight o'clock they were all there, and he
passed an hour or so in putting them through a rude form of drill and
giving them the instructions which he had prepared during the day. His
intention was to keep them together on his own place during the early
part of the night, and if, toward midnight, all seemed quiet, to
scatter them as a patrol about the neighborhood; in case of serious
disturbance anywhere else, to be ready to take part in restoring order.
About nine o'clock a man was seen coming rapidly from the house to the
rear garden, where Farnham and his company were. The men were dispersed
about the place; some on the garden seats, some lying on the grass in
the clear moonlight. Farnham was a little apart, talking with Kendall
and Grosshammer. He started up to meet the intruder; it was Mr. Temple.
"What's all this?" said Temple.
"The manly art of self-defence," said Farnham, smiling.
"I see, and I am glad to see it, too," answered Temple, warmly. "One of
my men told me an hour ago that in the Tramps' Lodging House, last
night, it was the common talk that there would be a rush on the houses
in this region to-night. I went to the Mayor and tried to see him, but
he was hiding, I think. I went to the Chief of Police, and he was in a
blue funk. So I thought I would come up myself and see you. I knew you
could raise a few men among your servants over here, and I would bring
half a dozen, and we could answer for a few tramps, anyhow. But you are
all right, and there is nothing to do but wait for them."
"Yes, thank you!" said Farnham, "though I am a thousand times obliged
to you for your good-will. I won't forget it in a hurry, old man. Are
you going home now? I will walk a block or two with you."
"No, I am not going home--not by"--[we draw the veil over Temple's
language at this point]. "I have come to spend the evening. Have you
any tools for me?"
"Nonsense, my dear fellow! there is not the least use of it. There is
not one chance in a million that there will be anything to do."
The two men were walking toward the house. Temple said: "Don't be too
sure of it. As I passed by the corner of the Square ten minutes ago,
there was a fellow in front of Mouchem's gin-mill, a longhaired,
sallow-looking pill, who was making as ugly a speech to a crowd of
ruffians as I ever heard. One phrase was something like this: 'Yes, my
fellow-toilers'--he looked like he had never worked a muscle in his
life except his jaw-tackle,--'the time has come. The hour is at hand.
The people rule. Tyranny is down. Enter in and take possession of the
spoilers' gains. Algonquin Avenue is heaped with riches wrung from the
sweat of the poor. Clean out the abodes of blood guiltiness.' And you
ought to have heard the ki-yi's that followed. That encouraged him, and
he went on: 'Algonquin Avenue is a robbers' cave, It's very handsome,
but it needs one thing more.' 'What's that?' some fellows yelled. 'An
aristocrat hung to every lamppost.' This was very popular too, you can
bet your boots. On that I toddled off, so as to get you a chance to say
your peccavy, anyhow."
Walking and talking together, they had passed the house and come to the
gate opening on the Avenue.
"You might shut these wide gates," said Temple.
"I do not think they have been shut in ten years," Farnham answered.
"Let's try it."
The effort was unsuccessful. The heavy gates would not budge. Suddenly
a straggling, irregular cheer was heard from the direction of the
Square. "There!" said Temple, "my friend the orator has got off another
good thing."
But Farnham, who had stepped outside at the sound and gazed on the
moon-lighted avenue, said, "There they come now!"
They both ran back to the house, Farnham blowing his watchman's
whistle. "See here," said Temple, "I must have some tools. You have a
club and revolver. Give me the club," which he took without more
ceremony. The men came up from the garden in an instant, and quickly
fell in at Farnham's word of command. Masked by the shadows of the
trees and the shrubbery, they were not discernible from the street.
"Remember," said Farnham. "Use your clubs as much as you see fit, if
you come to close quarters; but do not fire without orders, unless to
save your own lives. I don't think it is likely that these fellows are
armed."
The clattering of feet grew louder on the sidewalk, and in a moment the
leaders of the gang--it could hardly be called a mob--stopped by the
gates. "Here's the place. Come along boys!" one of them shouted, but no
one stirred until the whole party came up. They formed a dense crowd
about the gates and half-filled the wide avenue. There was evidently a
moment of hesitation, and then three or four rushed through the gate,
followed by a larger number, and at last by the bulk of the crowd. They
had come so near the porch that it could now be seen by the light of
the moon that few of them carried arms. Some had sticks; one or two men
carried heavy stones in their hands; one young man brandished an axe;
one had a hammer. There was evidently no attempt at organization
whatever.
Farnham waited until they were only a few feet away, and then shouted:
"Forward! Guide right! Double time! March!"
The men darted out from the shadow and began to lay about them with
their clubs. A yell of dismay burst from the crowd. Those in front
turned and met those behind, and the whole mass began striking out
wildly at each other. Yelling and cursing, they were forced back over
the lawn to the gate. Farnham, seeing that no shots had been fired, was
confirmed in his belief that the rioters were without organization and,
to a great extent, without arms. He therefore ordered his men to the
right about and brought them back to the house. This movement evidently
encouraged the mob. Loud voices were distinctly heard.
"Who's afraid of half a dozen cops?" said a burly ruffian, who carried
a slunfg-shot. "There's enough of us to eat 'em up."
"That's the talk, Bowersox," said another. "You go in and get the first
bite."
"That's my style," said Bowersox. "Come along, Offitt. Where's Bott? I
guess he don't feel very well. Come along, boys! We'll slug 'em this
time!" And the crowd, inspirited by this exhortation and the apparent
weakness of the police force, made a second rush for the house.
Temple was standing next to Farnham. "Arthur," he whispered, "let's
change weapons a moment," handing Farnham his club and taking the
revolver from his hand. Farnham hardly noticed the exchange, so
intently was he watching the advance of the crowd, which he saw, in a
moment, was far more serious than the first. They were coming up more
solidly, and the advantage of the surprise was now gone. He waited,
however, until they were almost as near as they had been before, and
then gave the order to charge, in the same words as before, but in a
much sharper and louder tone, which rang out like a sudden blast from a
trumpet.
The improvised policemen darted forward and attacked as vigorously as
ever, but the assailants stood their ground. There were blows given as
well as taken this time. There was even a moment's confusion on the
extreme right of the line, where the great bulk of Bowersox bore down
one of the veterans. Farnham sprang forward and struck the burly
ruffian with his club; but his foot slipped on the grass, and he
dropped on one knee. Bowersox raised his slung-shot; a single report of
a pistol rang out, and he tumbled forward over Farnham, who sprang to
his feet and shouted, "Now, men, drive 'em!" Taking the right himself
and profiting by the momentary shock of the shot, they got the crowd
started again, and by vigorous clubbing drove them once more into the
street.
Returning to the shadow by the house, Farnham's first question was, "Is
anybody hurt?"
"I've got a little bark knocked off," said one quiet fellow, who came
forward showing a ghastly face bathed in blood from a wound in his
forehead. Farnham looked at him a moment, and then, running to his
door, opened it and called Budsey, who had been hiding in the cellar,
praying to all his saints.
"Here, Budsey, take this man down to the coachman's house, and then go
round the corner and bring Dr. Cutts. If he isn't there, get somebody
else. It does not amount to much, but there will be less scar if it is
attended to at once."
The man was starting away with Budsey, when Temple said, "Look here!
You won't need that arsenal any more to-night. Pass it over," and took
the man's belt, with club and pistol, and buckled them around his own
slim waist. Handing Farnham his own pistol, he said: "Thanks, Arthur. I
owe you one cartridge."
"And I owe you, God knows how much!"
Farnham then briefly announced to his men that the shot which had just
been fired was not by a member of the company, and was, therefore, not
a disobedience of orders. Catching sight of Bowersox lying motionless
on the grass, he ordered,
"Two file-closers from the right, go and bring in that man!"
But at that moment Bowersox moved, sat up and looked about him, and,
suddenly remembering where he was, struggled to his feet and half-ran,
half staggered to his friends in the street. They gathered about him
for a moment, and then two of them were seen supporting him on his way
into the town.
Farnham was standing behind his men, and a little apart. He was
thinking whether it might not be best to take them at once into the
street and disperse the crowd, when he felt a touch at his elbow. He
turned, and saw his gardener, Ferguson.
"If I might speak a word, sir!"
"Certainly--what is it? But be quick about it."
"I think all is not right at the Widow Belding's. I was over there but
now, and a dozen men--I did not count them,--but--"
"Heavens! why did I not think of that? Kendall, you take command of
these men for a moment. Bolty, you and the three files on the left come
with me. Come, Temple,--the back way." And he started at a pace so
rapid that the others could hardly keep him in sight.
After the first repulse of the crowd, Offitt, Bott, and a few more of
the Bread-winners, together with some of the tramps and jail-birds who
had come for plunder, gathered together across the street and agreed
upon a diversion. It was evident, they said, that Farnham had a
considerable police force with him to protect his property; it was
useless to waste any more time there; let the rest stay there and
occupy the police; they could have more fun and more profit in some of
the good houses in the neighborhood. "Yes," one suggested, "Jairus
Belding's widder lives just a step off. Lots o' silver and things. Less
go there."
They slipped away in the confusion of the second rush, and made their
way through the garden to Mrs. Belding's. They tried the door, and,
finding it locked, they tore off the shutters and broke the windows,
and made their way into the drawing-room, where Mrs. Belding and Alice
were sitting.
They had been alarmed by the noise and tumult in front of Farnham's
house, and had locked and bolted their own doors in consequence.
Passing through the kitchen in their rounds, they found Ferguson there
in conversation with the cook. "Why, Fergus!" said the widow: "why are
you not at home? They are having lively times over there, are they
not?"
"Yes," said the gardener; "but they have a plenty of men with arms, and
I thought I'd e'en step over here and hearten up Bessie a bit."
"I'm sure she ought to be very much obliged," responded Mrs. Belding,
dryly, though, to speak the truth, she was not displeased to have a man
in the house, however little she might esteem his valor.
"I have no doubt he sneaked away from the fuss," she said to Alice;
"but I would rather have him in the kitchen than nothing."