The unrest increased in the workshops round about; no one who had
anything to do with the organization felt really secure. It was
evidently the intention of the employers to drive the workers to
extremes, and thereby to force them to break the peace. “They want to
destroy the trades unions, so that they can scrape the butter off our
bread again,” said the workers. “They think it’ll be easier now that
the winter has made us thankful for a dry crust! But that’s an infernal
lie!”
The masses grew more and more embittered; everywhere they were ready
for a fight, and asked nothing better than to plunge into it. The women
wept and shuddered; most of them understood only that the sufferings of
the winter were going to begin all over again. They took desperate
steps to prevent this; they threw their shawls over their heads and
rushed off to the offices, to the manufacturers, and pleaded with them
to avert the disaster. The central Committee counselled a peaceful
demeanor and caution. Everything depended upon their having the right
on their side in the opinion of the public.
It was easy for Pelle to follow all that was happening, although he now
stood outside the whole movement. He went to work in his good clothes
and elastic-sided boots, and did not need to arrive before seven, while
the others had to be there at six—which at once altered his point of
view.
He would soon be trusted with rule and compasses; for the present he
was kept busy copying a few worn-out working-drawings, or “filling in.”
He felt in a curiously exalted frame of mind—as though he had been
slightly intoxicated; this was the first time in his life that he had
been employed on work that was of a clean nature and allowed him to
wear good clothes. It was particularly curious to survey life from
where he stood; a new perspective lay open before him. The old life had
nothing in prospect but a miserable old age; but this led upward. Here
he could achieve what he willed—even the highest place! What if he
finally crept up to the very topmost point, and established an
eight-hour day and a decent day’s wage? Then he would show them that
one could perfectly well climb up from below without forgetting his
origin and becoming a bloodsucker! They should still drink to the
health of Pelle, their good comrade, although he would have left their
ranks.
At home there was much to be done; as soon as he crossed the threshold
he was the prisoner of Ellen’s hundred and one schemes. He must have a
new suit of clothes—a gray suit for the office, and more linen; and at
least twice a week he must go to the barber; he could no longer sit
down and scrape himself with an old razor with an edge like a saw.
Pelle was made to feel that it was not so easy after all to become an
“upper- classer,” as he called it.
And all this cost money. There was the same searching, the same racking
of one’s brains to find the necessary shillings as during the dearth of
the winter famine; but this time it was quite amusing; there was a
cheerful purpose in it all, and it would only last until he had
properly settled down. Lasse looked very respectable; he was wearing
Pelle’s second-best suit, which Ellen had cleaned for him, and a black
watered silk cravat, with a white waterproof collar, and well-polished
slippers on his feet. These last were his old watertight boots—those in
which Pelle had left Stone Farm. They were still in existence, but had
been cut down to form house-slippers. The legs of them now formed part
of a pair of clogs.
Lasse was happiest with the children, and he looked quite an aged
grandfather now, with his wrinkled face and his kind glance, which was
now a little weak-sighted. When Young Lasse hid himself in the opposite
corner of the room Father Lasse could not see him, and the young rascal
took advantage of the fact; he could never understand those eyes, which
could not see farther than across the table, and was always asking
questions about them.
“It’s because I have seen too much misery in my life,” the old man
would always reply.
Otherwise he was quite overflowing with happiness, and his old worn-out
body manifested its gratitude, for he began to put on flesh again; and
his cheeks had soon grown quite full. He had a peculiar knack for
looking after the children; Pelle and Ellen could feel quite easy as
they went about their multitudinous affairs. There were a hundred
things that had to be seen to before they could move into the new home.
They thought of raising a loan of a few hundred kroner. “Father will go
security for us,” said Ellen.
“Yes, then I should have the means of taking proper drawing-lessons,”
said Pelle; “I particularly need to get thoroughly grounded.”
On Saturday the term of the old tariff expired. The temper of the
workers was badly strained, but each completed his work, and contained
himself and waited. At noon the foreman went round asking each man for
his answer. They refused all information, as agreed, but in the
afternoon three men formed a deputation and entered the office, asking
if they could speak with the manager. As he entered Munck, the engine-
driver, stepped forward as spokesman, and began: “We have come in the
name of our comrades.” He could get no further; the manager let fly at
him, pointing to the stairs, and crying, “I don’t argue with my work-
people!”
So they went down again. The men stared up at them—this was quick work!
The burly Munck moved his lips, as though he were speaking, but no one
could hear a word on account of the frightful din of the machinery.
With a firm stride he went through the shop, picked up a hammer, and
struck three blows on the great steel gong. They sounded like the
stroke of doom, booming through the whole factory. At the same moment
the man’s naked, blackened arms were lifted to strike the belts from
the live pulleys. The machinery ceased running, and the roar of it died
away; it was as still as though Death had passed through the workshop.
The dense network of belts that crossed the shop in all directions
quivered and hung slack; the silence yawned horribly in the great room.
The foremen ran from bench to bench, shouting and hardly knowing what
to do. Word was sent to the office, while the workers went to their
buckets and washed themselves, silent and melancholy as a funeral
procession. Their faces were uncommunicative. Did they perhaps foresee
that those three blows were the signal for a terrible conflict? Or were
they merely following their first angry impulse? They knew enough, at
all events; it was stamped upon their faces that this was fate—the
inevitable. They had summoned the winter because they were driven to
it, and the winter would return once more to ravage his victims.
They reappeared, washed and clean, each with his bundle under his arm,
and stood in silence waiting their turn to be paid. The foreman ran to
and fro apportioning the wages with nervous hands, comparing
time-sheets and reckoning the sum due to each. The manager came down
the stairs of his office, proud and unapproachable, and walked through
the shop; the workers made way for him. He looked sharply around him,
as though he would imprint the likeness of every individual worker on
his mind, laid his hand on the shoulder of one of the foremen, and said
in a loud voice, so that all heard him, “Make haste, now, Jacobsen, so
that we can be rid of these fellows quickly!” The workers slowly turned
their serious faces toward him, and here and there a fist was clenched.
They left the factory one by one, as soon as they were paid.
Outside they gathered in little groups, and relieved their feelings by
giving vent to significant exclamations. “Did you see the old man? He
was savage, he was; he’ll hold out quite a while before we get back
again!”
Pelle was in a curious frame of mind; he knew that now the fight had
begun; first blood had been drawn, and one blow would follow on
another. Young Lasse, who heard his step on the stairs, ran into his
arms as he reached home; but Pelle did not notice him.
“You are so solemn!” said Ellen, “has anything happened?” He told her
quietly.
“Good God!” she cried, shuddering. “Now the unemployment will begin all
over again! Thank God it doesn’t affect us!” Pelle did not reply. He
sat down in silence to his supper; sat hanging his head as though
ashamed of himself.