apprentice-house, trembling with apprehension and looking wildly around
amongst the apprentices, in hope of seeing his comrade Moss; but Moss
was not to be seen! Presently, an order arrived from Woodward, for the
master of the apprentices to bring down Blincoe! Richard Milner, the
then governor of the apprentices, a corpulent old man, said, “Parson,
what hast thou been doing?”—“Nothing,” said the parson; his tremulous
voice and shaking limbs contradicting his laconic reply; and away they
trudged. When they got to the counting-house, they found Moss stuck erect
in a corner, looking very poorly, his mouth and cheeks all over treacle.
William Woodward, in a gruff voice, said, “So you have been helping to
eat this treacle?”—“I have only eaten a little, Sir.” Upon which, he hit
Blincoe one of his flat-handed slaps, fetching fire from his eyes, and
presently another, another, and another, till Blincoe began to vociferate
for mercy, promising never to eat forbidden treacle any more! Woodward
was full six feet high, with long arms, huge raw bones and immense sized
hands, and when he had tired himself with beating Blincoe, he exclaimed:
“Damn your bloods, you rascals, if you don’t lap up the whole can of
treacle, I’ll murder you on the spot.” This denunciation was music to
Blincoe’s ears, who had never before received such an invitation. To
accommodate the young gentlemen, the governor sent to his own kitchen
for two long spoons, and then, with renewed execrations, Woodward bade
them set to. Moss then crept softly and silently out of his corner,
having been cruelly beaten in Blincoe’s abscence! Looking ruefully at
each other, down the culprits knelt a second time, one on each side of
the treacle can! Blincoe had still the best of the sport; for poor Moss’s
mouth remained deprived of half its external dimensions, and being so
excessively sore, he could hardly get in a tea-spoon, where Blincoe could
shovel in large table-spoonsful! Moss kept fumbling at his lame mouth,
and looking rather spitefully at Blincoe, as if he thought he would eat
all the treacle. Meanwhile Milner and Woodward sat laughing and chatting
by the fire side, often looking at the treacle-eaters, and anxiously
waiting an outcry for quarters! Blincoe ate in a masterly style; but poor
Moss could not acquit himself half as well, the treacle trickling down
his chin, on both sides of his mouth, seeing which, Woodward suddenly
roared out, “Damn you, you villian, if you don’t open your mouth wider,
I’ll open it for you.” Poor Moss trembled; but made no reply, and Blincoe
being willing to make hay while the sun shone, instead of falling off,
seemed, at every mouthful, to acquire fresh vigour! This surprised and
mortified Woodward not a little, who seeing no signs of sickness, hearing
no cry for quarter, and being apprehensive of an application for another
can, got up to reconnoitre, and, to his amazement, found that the _little
Parson_, who was not a vast deal higher than the can, had almost reached
the bottom, and displayed no visible loss or diminution of appetite!
Inexpressibly vexed at being thus outwitted before the governor, he
roared out in a tremendous voice to Milner, “Why damn their bloods,
they’ll eat the whole! Halt, you damned rascals, or, I’ll kill you on
the spot!” In a moment, Blincoe ceased his play, and licked his lips and
spoon, to shew how keen his stomach still was! Milner and Woodward then
took stock, and found, that, out of fourteen pounds, not three remained;
Milner laughed immoderately at Woodward, to think what a luscious mode
of punishment he had found out for treacle stealers!—Woodward being
extremely exasperated, ordered Samuel Brickleton, an overlooker, to
fasten Moss and Blincoe together with handcuffs, of which as well as of
_fetters_, there were plenty at Litton Mill, and then forced them to
carry the can to the apprentice-house between them. When they arrived at
the door, his hand being small, Blincoe contrived to withdraw it from
the handcuff, and ran nimbly off into the room amongst the apprentices,
leaving the treacle can in Moss’s hand. Brickleton, unconscious of
Blincoe’s escape, arrived in the kitchen, where the Governor and his
family resided, looked round, and seeing only one prisoner, cried out,
“Eh! where’s Parson gone.” Moss said, he believed he was gone into the
apprentice-house. Brickleton examined the handcuffs and finding they were
locked, was much puzzled to think how the parson had contrived to get his
hand out. The kind and careful Mrs. Milner, knowing there was money due
to Blincoe, for working his dinner-hour, viz. a farthing a day, proposed
to have it stopped, to pay for the treacle which Woodward had compelled
him to eat, on pain of putting him instantly to death. Such was the law
and equity, which prevailed at Litton Mill! That night, in consequence
of his sumptuous supper, Blincoe was forbidden to enter his bed, and he
laid all night, in the depth of winter, on the hard cold floor.
This part of the subject requires an explanation, as to the equivalent
given by the owner to the apprentices, in lieu of their dinner hour. This
hour consisted, in general, of forty minutes, and not always so many. The
master, to induce the apprentices to work all day long, promised each
three-pence per week, if they worked the whole of the dinner hour, and
they had to eat it, _bite and sup_, at their work, without, spoon, knife,
or fork, and with their dirty oily fingers! They were thus kept on their
feet, from five o’clock in the morning, till nine, ten, and even eleven
o’clock at night, and on Saturdays, sometimes till twelve; because Sunday
was a _day of rest_! Frequently, though almost famishing, the apprentices
could not find time to eat their food at all; but carried it back with
them at night, covered with flue and filth. This liberality did not last
long. The halfpenny was reduced to a farthing, and this farthing was
withheld till it amounted to several shillings, and then, when the master
_pleased_, he would give a shilling or two, and none dare ask for more.
Those whom the overlookers pleased to order so to do, had to work their
dinner hour for nothing, and their comrades used to fetch their dinners,
who, not unfrequently, pilfered a part. The money thus earned, the poor
’prentices used to reserve, to buy wheaten cakes, and red herrings, to
them, luxuries of the most delicious kind. Such was the miserable manner
in which they were fed, that, when they gave the pence to Palfrey (the
smith,) to bring the tempting cake of wheaten flour, and the herring, in
the morning, they used to say to their comrades. “Old Palfrey is to bring
me a cake and herring in the morning. Oh! how greedily I shall devour
them.” They commonly dreamt of these anticipated feasts, and talked of
their expected luxuries in their sleep. When Palfrey arrived, they would,
if they dared, have met him on the stairs, or have followed him to the
smithy; but, in an eager whisper, enquired “have you brought my cake and
herring?” “Aye, lad,” said Palfrey, holding out the expected provisions.
Eagerly they seized the herring and the cake, and the first full bite
generally took off head or tail, as it came first to hand, while the
cake was thrust inside their bosom; for they worked with their shirt
collar open and generally without jackets. The poor souls, who, having
no pence, could have no dainties, would try to snatch a piece slyly, if
it were possible, and if that failed, they would try to beg a morsel. If
the possessor gave a taste, he held the herring so tight, that only a
very small portion could be bitten off, without biting off the ends of
the owner’s fingers, and their whole feast was quickly finished, without
greatly diminishing their appetite. It happened, by some extraordinary
stroke of good fortune, that Blincoe became possessed of a shilling, and
he determined to have what he termed, a proper blow out; he, therefore,
requested Palfrey to bring him six penny wheaten cakes, and half a pound
of butter. Blincoe was then a stretcher, and had, as such, a better
opportunity to receive and eat his dainties unobserved. The cakes he
pulled one by one, from his bosom, and laying them upon the frame, spread
the butter on them with a piece of flat iron, and giving his two comrades
a small part each, he set to and devoured all the rest; but the unusual
quantity and quality nearly made him ill. Blincoe had no appetite for
his dinner or supper, and, he, therefore, let another comrade eat it,
who engaged to give Blincoe his when he happened to lose his appetite.
Such were the prospective and contingent negotiations carried on by these
wretched children, relative to their miserable food.
If Blincoe happened to see any fresh cabbage leaves, potato or turnip
parings, thrown out upon the dunghill, he has ran down with a can full
of sweepings, as an excuse, and as he threw that dirt on the dunghill,
he would eagerly pick the other up, and carry it in his shirt, or in his
can, into the mill, wipe the dirt off as well as he could, and greedily
eat them up. At other times, when they had rice puddings boiled in bags
for dinner—the rice being very bad and full of large maggots, Blincoe not
being able to endure such food, used to go into one of the woods near
the factory, and get what the boys called _bread and cheese_, that is,
hips and hipleaves, clover, or other vegetable, and filling his bosom,
run back to the mill, and eat his trash, instead of fowl rice, with
which neither butter-milk, milk, treacle, nor even a morsel of salt, was
allowed.
Amongst the most singular punishments inflicted upon Blincoe, was that of
screwing small hand-vices of a pound weight, more or less, to his nose
and ears, one to each part; and these have been kept on, as he worked,
for hours together! This was principally done by Robert Woodward, Merrick
and Charnock. Of these petty despots, Merrick was the most unpardonable,
as he had been a parish apprentice himself, and ought to have had more
compassion. This Merrick was a stretcher, and Blincoe when about 11 or 12
years old, used to stretch for him, while he, Merrick, ate his dinner.
Out of kindness, or because he could not eat it himself, Merrick used
occasionally to leave a small part of his allowance, and tell Blincoe to
go and eat it. On Mondays, it was the custom to give the boys bread and
treacle, and turnip _broth_ made the day before, which generally stunk
to such a degree, that most of the poor creatures could only pick out
the oat bread, the broth being loathsome. Whenever Merrick left a bit
of bread and treacle in the window, Blincoe used to run eagerly at the
prize, and devour it voraciously. On Monday, this overlooker, who was a
most inhuman task-master, sent Blincoe down to the card-room for a basket
of rovings, a descent of four or five stories deep, for this burthen of
considerable weight. During the time he was gone, Merrick rubbed tar upon
the oat cake, and laid it in the window as usual. When Blincoe returned,
the brute said, “go and eat what lies in the window.” Blincoe seeing as
he supposed, so much treacle upon the bread, was surprised; for Merrick
usually licked it clean off, and to his bitter mortification, found,
instead of treacle, it was TAR. Unable to endure the nauseous mouthful,
Blincoe spat it out, whilst Merrick, laughing at him, said, “What the
devil are you spitting it out for.” Poor Blincoe, shaking his head, said,
“You know, mon,” and Blincoe left the remainder of the tarred cake in the
window, when his comrade, Bill Fletcher, a poor lad since dead, who came
from Peak Forest, took up the bread, and scraping off the tar as clean as
he could, ate it up, apparently with a good appetite! To such dreadful
straits were they driven by hunger, the apprentices have been known to
_pick turnips out of the necessary_, which others, who had stolen them,
had thrown there to conceal, and washing them, have devoured the whole,
thinking it too extravagant even to waste the peeling.
Palfrey, the Smith, had the task of rivetting irons upon any of the
apprentices, whom the masters ordered, and those were much like the irons
usually put upon felons! Even young women, if suspected of intending to
run away, had irons riveted on their ancles, and reaching by long links
and rings up to the hips, and in these they were compelled to walk to
and from the mill to work and to sleep! Blincoe asserts, he has known
many girls served in this manner. A handsome-looking girl about the age
of twenty years, who came from the neighbourhood of Cromford, whose name
was Phebe Rag, being driven to desperation by ill-treatment, took the
opportunity, one dinner-time, when she was alone, and when she supposed
no one saw her, to take off her shoes and throw herself into the dam,
at the end of the bridge, next the apprentice-house. Some one passing
along, and seeing a pair of shoes, stopped. The poor girl had sunk once,
and just as she rose above the water he seized her by the hair! Blincoe
thinks it was Thomas Fox, the governor, who succeeded Milner, who rescued
her! She was nearly gone, and it was with some difficulty her life was
saved! When Mr. Needham heard of this, and _being afraid the example
might be contagious_, he ordered James Durant, a journeyman spinner,
who had been apprenticed there, to take her away to her relations at
Cromford, and thus she escaped!