CHAPTER XXI.

FRIENDS IN COUNCIL.

'Going out again, John?' spoke Mrs Hatfield, a little plaintively, as

her husband rose and took down his hat from its peg, ten days after

Thornsett Mill had been closed. Not closed for a day on account of a

wedding, as had once been suggested, but closed, it might be for ten

years, or practically for ever.

'Ay, lass,' said her husband shortly, but not unkindly; 'Ah should go

clean daft if Ah stayed i' the house. Lazying about don't suit me--it's

only my betters as takes their pleasure i' that way.'

'Tha'lt do no good down at t' Spotted Cow,' returned Mrs Hatfield,

compressing her lips; 'tha might as well be idle i' tha own house as

wi' all they gomerils--spending tha money too, as if tha was i' full

work.'

'Well,' he said, pausing with his hand on the back of the settle where

she sat, 'we'll all have to be shifting out o' this soon, and tha

knows, lass, as Ah were never one to drink nor to talk out o' season.

Ah mun hear where the lads is going for work. It won't ne'er do for us

a' to be going the same way.'

'It seems hard tha should have to go after work at tha time o' life,

John. But likely it's as hard for Rowley and Dick as for thee and me.

Poor lads, poor lads! Ah, Heaven help us a' in this hard world.'

'They're fur enow fro' want, tha may be sure, or they wouldn't ha'

sacrificed the mill to their mucky pride. It's little they care who

starves, so long as they have enow. Tha must remember as what they'd

call being poor we'd call being rich. "Hard up" for a gentleman ud be

enow and to spare for a working man.'

And he went out, slamming the door behind him, and his wife took up

her knitting with a sigh. She could rarely follow her husband in his

reasonings, but troubles are not the less hard to bear because we don't

clearly see their causes. They had saved a little money, but that would

soon be gone, and then there would be nothing before them but 'the

house.' Both their sons were away--one a sailor, and the other in a

warehouse in Liverpool--but neither was earning enough to be able to

help their parents. Vaguely she hoped that her husband might take it

into his head to go to London for work. An idea is prevalent in the

provinces that in London there is work for every one, and besides,

Alice had written from London, and there would be a chance of finding

her poor lost child and bringing her back.

The sudden closing of the mill made affairs indeed terribly serious

for most of the men in Thornsett. It was in the middle of winter, when

journeying was not pleasant, nor work easy to get; and though the

'hands' employed in the mill had been told that it would close, very,

very few among them had made any effort to secure other work before the

time for closing came. Perhaps it had seemed to them that the closing

of the mill was one of those calamities too terrible to happen. But it

had happened, and after ten days of idleness the men were beginning to

see clearly what it would mean to them. For there was no other work

to be got within anything like easy reach of the village; and even

if work could be obtained somewhere else, the little community must

be broken up, and each family must separate itself from friends and

neighbours and relatives in order to journey thither. This alone is

thought a terrible calamity for middle-class men and women, but it is

the least of the troubles which are always hanging over the heads

of the workers. The exodus that must shortly take place had not yet

begun, but every one knew that it could not now be long delayed; and

Potters and the few other tradespeople being, of course, involved in

the general distress, could no longer give credit. This had never been

withheld in slack times, when the shopkeepers knew that good ones were

certain to come in which the scores would be wiped off or reduced very

considerably; but now there was no chance of things growing brighter

again, and even the small accounts then owing were not very likely ever

to be paid.

During the past ten days, as the men's money was being spent, and as

the want of work gave them more time to reason on the causes of their

trouble, a strong feeling of resentment had been growing up among them

against the two young masters, who had held, as it were, the happiness,

the comfort, perhaps the lives, of all these men in their hands, and

had thrown all to the dogs rather than humble their own insensate

pride and abate their own insensate obstinacy. This feeling had found

vent, not only in the scowls and black looks on which Litvinoff had

commented, but in certain faint groans and hisses with which Roland had

been greeted on more than one occasion when he passed down the village

street.

What right had these two, on whose forbearance and good fellowship hung

the fate of all these families, to go quarrelling with each other?

'It's a' their darn'd selfishness,' Murdoch was saying, just as

Hatfield kicked open the door of the tap-room at the Spotted Cow, and

passed in. 'What's the odds to them if we clem or if we dunna't?'

'It's my belief,' said Potters bitterly, 'as they done it to show their

independence.'

'They might have hit on a cheaper way,' growled Hatfield, as Murdoch

and Sigley made room for him to sit between them.

'Cheaper! why, what's cheaper nor our flesh and blood?' asked Murdoch,

with a snarl. 'They can afford to chuck a little o' that away. They can

get more of it when they want it easy enow.'

'Ay, that's it, lad,' said Hatfield. 'It's the flesh and blood o' some

o' us that's here still, and more o' us that's dead and gone, that's

made the bit o' money they'll live on for the rest o' their days.'

'Well, I don't quite see that,' muttered Sigley, with his usual

meekness. 'They've always paid fair wages.'

'Yes,' answered Hatfield. 'Ah never said they took it for nothing. They

paid for it right enow, but they bought it cheap, lad--they bought it

cheap, and they sold it at a good profit. We've nowt but our flesh and

blood to sell, and now we mun carry it to another market.'

'If you mean your work,' put in the landlord, 'I don't see as you

ought to talk i' that way. They paid you your own price for your work,

anyhow.'

'No,' said Hatfield. 'They paid us what we was forced to take.'

'Thou'dst always some sense i' tha head, John,' broke in old Murdoch

approvingly. 'Tha was na here when.... D'ye mind, Bolt, the night after

t'owd master's burying, tha made the lads drink t' young masters'

health? Ask them to drink it now!'

The murmur of ironical assent which went round the room showed that

Murdoch had expressed the sense of the meeting. He had been rising in

importance daily, ever since the announcement of the mill's closing.

He had always been the prophet of calamity, and now that his worst

prophecies had been more than fulfilled he was looked upon as little

less than inspired.

'Well,' said Bolt deprecatingly, 'who could ha' foreseen things turning

out i' this way? And as for asking them to drink their healths, why

they ain't their masters now. So where's the use?'

'It do seem hard, it do,' murmured Sigley, who went to chapel

regularly, 'when a man have saved up a bit to have it all swept away

in a rushing, mighty wind, and us left, like Pharaoh's lean kine, to

make bricks without straw. The whole creation groaneth!...'

'Well, don't groan here,' interrupted Murdoch grimly; 'tha'd best do

tha groanin' wi' the rest o' creation at t' chapel; and well mayst tha

groan there if tha hears tell o' cows makin' bricks.'

'Them as don't believe in the Bible,' said Sigley impressively, giving

voice to a very popular belief, 'can't look for a blessing.'

'Nor yet them as does, it seems.'

'What ah was going to say was this--as we should take comfort, thinking

as we ain't the only ones.'

'Comfort, tha loon!--that's the hell of it! Damn the man, says I, as

can find comfort i' t' thought o' other men's misery!'

It was Hatfield who spoke, and as he spoke he brought his fist down on

the table with a bang that made the glasses ring.

'How tha does take on, John,' said Bolt. 'What Sigley meant was only as

it shows you ain't to blame, seeing as so many others is in the same

fix.'

Sigley did not confirm this interpretation. He only shook his head,

with the air of one who had meant something much more pious and

profound.

'You're wrong _again_,' said Hatfield loudly. He had risen and faced

the room, which was now pretty full. While this talk had been going

on, men had dropped in by twos and threes, and all that had been said

had been listened to with profound attention. 'You're wrong again! It

_is_ our faults, and the faults of all like us. Our fathers might have

altered it. We might alter it now if we had but the spunk to take it

in hand; and, if we don't, them as comes after us will, and'll curse

us for leaving them the work to do. Didn't none o' ye ever hear tell

o' the elephant that lets himself be led and mastered by one he could

smash with a shake o' his poll? And why? Because, the books tell us,

_he doesna know his own strength_. But he doesna fare so bad as we. He

gets well fed and well looked after because it costs summat to replace

him, and we lets oursels be led and drove and starved, when it suits

'em, by a set as we could chase out o' the world to-morrow if we but

stood together and acted like men.'

A thrill of excited sympathy ran through the room as old Murdoch

shouted,--

'Right again! That's it, John; tha's got it! A score thousand o' your

pattern and there'd be an end to men being turned out o' their homes to

clem i' midwinter because two young devils both wants the same lass!'

'It's all very well, Hatfield,' said Potters sourly; 'but tha's one

face for us and another face for t' gentlefolk. That warn't no working

man as I've see comin' out o' your house time and again this last three

week.'

'No, he ain't. He's more o' the right stuff in his little finger nor

you and all like you put together has got in your whole bodies. There,

take that, Potters!'

'Whatever he's got in him, he seems pretty thick with young Roland

Ferrier,' said a man who had not spoken before.

'He did his best to stop their quarrelling,' Hatfield answered hotly;

'because he knew what it would be for all o' us; and he's been chased

out o' his own country and lost nearly all his brass for standing up

for the likes o' we.'

'Yes, I've had a bit o' talk with him, too; that's true enough.'

'Ay! he's no fool, nor no coward neither.'

'He's a true friend o' working men, he is, if he is a Count.'

Litvinoff, it will be seen, had not lost his opportunities while he had

been at Thornsett, for nearly every man present had something to say in

his favour.

'But seeing as he's such a friend o' Mr Roland's, why don't he do

something to stop this set-out?'

'What can he do?'

'He might speak to him about it.'

'Look'ee here, lads,' said Clayton, an old man who had not spoken

before, 'ah've been a-turnin' o' this thing over i' my head, and this

is what ah come to. If so be as young Ferrier's like to listen to any

one, would he listen first to a new-fangled furrin' chap, or to all

o' us honest lads as has known him since he was so high? Has any of

you spoke to him? Has any one of you put it straight to him--this is

the way of it, and this and this? M'appen this fooling o' theirs was

just through ignorance. They might ha' thought it didna matter to any

but them, and if once they knowed a' as it means, m'appen they'd think

better owt, and let things go the old way.'

'Old heads is worth most, arter all,' said John Bolt, who was of a

hopeful nature and turned to the new idea as a relief from his former

visions of empty benches and deserted bar,--of a time when there would

be nothing to chalk up but his own losses, and when adulterated beer

would seem what it was, a drug in the market. 'Why shouldn't some of

you do as he says, and go and see him and speak him reasonable?'

A great difference of opinion arose at once on the new idea, but nearly

all were in their hearts glad to try a new chance, and at last old

Clayton, from whom the suggestion had come, said,--

'Well, sithee, if any of you lads'll come wi' me, dang me if I'll not

go this very night--this very minute.'

'You'd better all go,' advised Potters; 'it would be more telling like.'

'All o' us isn't here,' murmured Sigley.

'Get 'em here,' said Clayton shortly. 'If two or three o' ye was to go

round and tell the other lads what's towards, they'd come too, and we'd

have one more try at getting things righted here, afore we all turns

different ways and never sees each other's faces again.'

No sooner said than done. Men are ready at all times to follow any one

who will act, or even to act themselves if prompted with sufficient

energy. In less than half an hour over a hundred men were assembled

outside the Spotted Cow, and were prepared to go up to Thornsett Edge

to try to open again the doors of the workshop which a dead hand had

closed against them. But their faith was strong in the power of a young

and living hand, and they went with a new hope in their hearts.

'We'll all go up,' said old Clayton, who had assumed the position of

leader, 'but only a few of us had best go in. Let's see--you, and you,

and you. You'll be one, Hatfield, and Murdoch makes five.'

'Not me,' snarled Murdoch sourly; 'no eatin' dirt for me. I ain't never

humbled myself to no man, and I ain't a-goin' to begin now, to a young

chap as ah worked along o' his father manys a long day.'

'Not me, neither,' said Hatfield, 'for ah know aforehand as it's too

late. But don't you mind us. Go your own way, and here's luck to you.'

He and Murdoch stood at the door with Bolt and Potters, and a few more

who, not having been employed in the mill, were considered not to have

any place in the deputation. They watched the crowd out of sight up

the steep street, and the women turned out to watch their men go by.

It was a clear, frosty night, and bitterly cold, but most of the women

rolled their bare arms in their aprons and stood talking in little

knots after the procession had passed out of sight. They were more

hopeful than their husbands, for women are naturally more trusting than

men and believe more in the possibility of altering facts by emotional

influences.

To Murdoch and Hatfield, in spite of their assumption of indifference,

the time seemed very long as it went by and brought them no news of

their comrades. After half an hour Bill suggested that they should

stroll up the hill to meet the others and learn how it fared with them.

The Prophet's Mantle · 第 21 / 32 章