A Few Words with M. Schenk
Arrived at the Durend works, Max went straight to M. Schenk's office.
Two men, whom Max had not seen before, were coming out as he entered,
but the manager was at that moment alone. He looked up as Max came in,
and, when he saw who it was, smiled in a way that our hero did not
altogether like. It seemed less a smile of welcome than of tolerant
amusement, and instead of commencing diplomatically, as he had intended,
Max burst out rather heatedly:
"Monsieur Schenk, we must close the works. We cannot go on making shells
now that the Germans are in occupation of Liege. It is not loyal to
Belgium, and I am certain my mother would not wish us to do such a
thing."
The manager gazed at Max almost blankly for a moment, as though quite
taken by surprise. Then he smiled again, almost pityingly, as he
replied:
"I do not think you understand the position, Monsieur Max. The Germans
are now masters here, and what they order us that we must do. The German
commander only an hour ago sent word that he would hold the heads of the
firm responsible for any decrease in the output of the Durend works; so
what can I do? Would it help Belgium if you and I were replaced by men
from Krupp's? No; it were better that we--or at any rate I--remain, so
that the firm's interests are not wholly forgotten."
"But if we refuse to work, the workmen will do so too," cried Max
earnestly. "If we continue at work, they may continue also. We have an
example of patriotism to set, and set it we must."
"Bah! If Krupp's run these works the workmen will have to work, make no
mistake on that point. Now, Monsieur Max, pray leave me, for I must to
work again. You may rest assured that I am looking after the interests
of the firm. Think no more about such matters, but take heed to
yourself, for your end will be swift indeed if the Germans think you
actively hostile to their occupation of the town."
"I care not," cried Max recklessly. "Let them take us both and let
Krupp's take over the firm--at least our hands will be clean of
treachery to our country. Once more, Monsieur Schenk, as my mother's
representative, I appeal to you not to aid the enemy by running the
works for their help and benefit."
The manager snorted indignantly. "_I_ am responsible here, and I am
going to exercise my own judgment," he cried sharply. "And now, leave
me. You are too young to discuss these matters and you weary me."
Turning round sharply on his heel, Max left the room. He had never been
spoken to like that before, and it cut him to the heart. He wanted time
to think out the situation and to make up his mind what action he should
take. True, this man was manager and entrusted with great powers; but
Max stood to some extent in the position of owner, and that he should be
treated thus seemed an indignity in the highest degree. It was a relief
to pour his woes into the ear of the faithful Dale, and together these
two paced through the yard, conning over earnestly all the bearings of
the situation. It was while they were thus engaged that a fleet of
thirty or forty great military motor-lorries rattled by.
"The beginning," cried Max bitterly, nodding towards them.
"Yes, I fear so. I wonder what they are after?"
"Let us follow and see. We may as well know the worst."
The wagons came to a stand alongside one of the largest of the stacks of
empty shells which now dotted the yard, and, with a promptitude that
showed that everything had been arranged beforehand, the tarpaulins that
covered the stacks were thrown aside and the shells passed one by one
into the wagons.
"Now that seems queer to me," remarked Dale, as he watched the men with
a thoughtful face. "What can the Germans want with shells that will only
fit the Belgian guns! Queer, I call it."
"They may be going to use them in the captured guns," replied Max. "Let
us look in again at the casting-shops and see if they have started on
shells for German guns. 'Pon my word I have half a mind to appeal to the
men to cease work, strange as it would be coming from the owner's son
while the manager of the works made no sign. The place is running at top
speed too--see, Dale?"
It was evident that there was no relaxation here. The whole of the
buildings and furnaces engaged in the castings were simply humming with
energy, and when they entered the nearest door they were amazed. Double
the number of men that were at work the day before were now engaged and
were working with an intensity that seemed inexplicable to Max.
As they entered, one of the foremen came up to them.
"Keep a still tongue, Dale," muttered Max beneath his breath.
"You are late, Monsieur," he said, addressing Max and gazing at him
somewhat closely. "Are you going to work this morning?"
"I think not," replied Max, shrugging his shoulders. "I see you are
pretty well full up with men."
"Yes, we have had a lot more hands placed at our disposal here. I
estimate that we shall turn out at least three times as many shells as
yesterday."
"The new men are German-speaking, of course?"
"Of course. This business will be profitable for the firm no doubt?" The
man looked at Max as though not quite certain of the state of affairs.
"Undoubtedly. Has Monsieur Schenk given any orders for a change in the
calibre of the shells?"
"No. We are still on the same gauge. But I suppose we shall be making
all sizes soon. There is no help for it, of course; we must submit to
the inevitable?"
Max turned away. "This trebling of output does not seem like unwilling
submission to the inevitable, Dale," he whispered savagely. "Come, let
us get out of this--I'm choking here. The place reeks to me of
treachery. If I had the strength of Samson I would bring the roof down
and bury the whole villainous crew beneath the ruins."
"There's certainly something dirty going on," agreed Dale. "But if we're
not Samsons we have strength enough to put a spoke in their wheel, I
fancy. Let us wait a bit and see."
In savage silence the two lads left the casting-shops and walked
mechanically on towards the buildings which had been engaged on
peace-time work. Here all was quiet and almost deserted. Only a machine
here and there was running, and at first they thought that the whole of
the workmen had been diverted to the other shops. But at the farther end
of the yard they presently noticed groups of men congregated together,
much as they were wont to do in the dinner interval. But it was not the
dinner interval now.
"What's the matter here? This looks as though some part of Schenk's
plans had gone awry. Are they dismissed, or are they refusing to work?"
"Refusing to work, by the look of the armed guards yonder," replied Max,
nodding towards a body of German soldiers, a dozen or more strong,
posted at a corner of one of the buildings within easy reach of the
entrance. "Let us have a talk with one or two of the men and find out
what's afoot."
"Aye, but don't let our German friends see us talking to them. They will
think it a conspiracy."
The two lads joined themselves to one of the groups, and began
questioning them as to the reason for their presence there instead of in
the workshops. But somehow the men seemed to view Max and Dale with
coldness and suspicion, and either refused to reply or answered in
sullen monosyllables. Max was about to turn away, in disappointed
perplexity, when he noticed the man Dubec. In sudden relief he appealed
to him to tell him what was happening.
"It is because we will not work if the goods are to be seized by the
Germans. We are true Belgians--not like those traitors who fill the
shell-shops--and we cannot work against our country."
"And you are right," cried Max warmly. "I am with you heart and soul."
"Huh! But what our men cannot understand is why the firm does not close
down. Why is it left to us poor workmen to show our patriotism? Why does
not the firm take the lead? We would stand by them to the death if need
be."
"I believe you," cried Max, with difficulty gulping down the lump that
rose in his throat. What a cur he felt--he, the owner in the sight of
these men, helpless to influence in the slightest degree the affairs of
the great works called by his name. "But, lads--to my shame I say it--I
am helpless. I am but just come from demanding of Monsieur Schenk that
the works should be closed. He will not hear of it, and it is he who has
the power, not I. And behind him stand the Germans. I can do nothing,
and I feel the shame of it more than I can say."
Max's voice trembled with earnestness and sincerity, and the men clearly
believed him. Their cold looks vanished, and the one or two near him
seized him by the hands and wrung them vigorously.
"That is good, Monsieur. We are glad to hear that you are for us. It
makes our stand easier now that we know that the owners at least are on
our side. As for that Schenk, we have always hated him as a tyrant, and
now we doubly hate him as a traitor as well."
"Aye," broke in another of the men, "he is the cause of the mischief.
And we have sworn not to work so long as the Germans hold the town. If
we were ready to strike and suffer long for wages, will we not do so for
the good of our country?"
The man gazed round at his comrades, who gave a half-cheer in answer to
his appeal. The attention of the German guards was attracted by the
sound, and the non-commissioned officer in charge instantly ordered his
men to advance on the offending party.
"Disperse!" cried Max and one or two more, and the group broke up, most
of the men walking out of the yard into the open road. The regular tramp
of heavy-booted feet and harsh commands that followed them were a
further reminder, if one were needed, of the utter change that had come
over the scene of their humble daily toil.