THE ATTACK ON THE ENGINE-HOUSE.
No sooner did Mr. Merton hear of the resolution of the miners to destroy
the engines, than he sat down and wrote an urgent letter to Sir John
Butler.
"Is there anything else, Jack?"
"I don't know, sir. If the masters could be warned of the attack they
might get a few viewers and firemen and make a sort of defence; but if
the men's blood's up it might go hard with them; and it would go hard
with you if you were known to have taken the news of it."
"I will take the risk of that," Mr. Merton said. "Directly it is dark I
will set out. What are you going to do, Jack?"
"I've got my work marked out," Jack said. "I'd rather not tell you till
it's all over. Good-bye, sir; Harry is waiting for the letter."
Mr. Merton did not carry out his plans. As soon as it was dark he left
the village, but a hundred yards out he came upon a party of men,
evidently posted as sentries. These roughly told him that if he didn't
want to be chucked into the canal he'd best go home to bed; and this,
after trying another road with the same result, he did.
Jack walked with Harry as far as the railway-station, mentioning to
several friends he met that he was off again. The lads crossed the line,
went out of the opposite booking-office, and set off--for it was now
past five, and already dark--at the top of their speed in different
directions. Jack did not stop till he reached the engine-house of the
Vaughan mine. The pumps were still clanking inside, and the water
streaming down the shoot. Peeping carefully in, to see that his friend,
John Ratcliffe, was alone, Jack entered.
"Well, John," he said, "the engine's still going."
"Ay, Jack; but if what's more nor one has told me to-day be true, it be
for the last time."
"Look here, John; Mr. Brook has been a good master, will you do him a
good turn?"
"Ay, lad, if I can; I've held on here, though they've threatened to
chuck me down the shaft; but I'm a married man, and can't throw away my
life."
"I don't ask you to, John. I want you to work hard here with me till six
o'clock strikes, and then go home as usual."
"What dost want done, lad?"
"What steam is there in the boiler?"
"Only about fifteen pounds. I'm just knocking off, and have banked the
fire up."
"All right, John. I want you to help me fix the fire hose, the short
length, to that blow-off cock at the bottom of the boiler. We can
unscrew the pipe down to the drain, and can fasten the hose to it with a
union, I expect. You've got some unions, haven't you?"
"Yes, lad; and what then?"
"That's my business, John. I'm going to hold this place till the
soldiers come; and I think that with twenty pounds of steam in the
boiler, and the hose, I can keep all the miners of Stokebridge out. At
any rate, I'll try. Now, John, set to work. I want thee to go straight
home, and then no one will suspect thee of having a hand in the matter.
I'll go out when thou dost, and thou canst swear, if thou art asked,
that there was not a soul in the house when thou camest away."
"Thou wilt lose thy life, Jack."
"That be my business," Jack said. "I think not. Now set to work, John;
give me a spanner, and let's get the pipe off the cock at once."
John Ratcliffe set to work with a will, and in twenty minutes the unions
were screwed on and the hose attached, a length of thirty feet, which
was quite sufficient to reach to the window, some eight feet above the
ground. Along by this window ran a platform. There was another, and a
smaller window, on the other side.
While they were working, John Ratcliffe tried to dissuade Jack from
carrying out his plan.
"It's no use, John. I mean to save the engines, and so the pit. They'll
never get in; and no one knows I am here, and no one will suspect me.
None of 'em will know my voice, for they won't bring boys with them, and
dad won't be here. There, it's striking six. Let me just drop a rope out
of the window to climb in again with. Now we'll go out together; do thou
lock the door, take the key, and go off home. Like enough they'll ask
thee for the key, or they may bring their sledges to break it in. Anyhow
it will make no difference, for there are a couple of bolts inside, and
I shall make it fast with bars. There, that's right. Good-night, John.
Remember, whatever comes of it, thou knowest nought of it. Thou camest
away and left the place empty, as usual, and no one there."
"Good-bye, lad, I'd stop with 'ee and share thy risk, but they'd know I
was here, and my life wouldn't be worth the price of a pot o' beer.
Don't forget, lad, if thou lowerst the water, to damp down the fire, and
open the valves."
Jack, left to himself, clambered up to the window and entered the
engine-house again, threw some fresh coal on the fire, heaped a quantity
of coal against the door, and jammed several long iron bars against it.
Then he lighted his pipe and sat listening, occasionally getting up to
hold a lantern to the steam-gauge, as it crept gradually up.
"Twenty-five pounds," he said; "that will be enough to throw the water
fifty or sixty yards on a level, and the door of the winding-engine's
not more than thirty, so I can hold them both if they try to break in
there."
He again banked up the fires, and sat thinking. Harry would be at the
magistrate's by a quarter to six. By six o'clock Sir John could be on
his way to Birmingham for troops; fifteen miles to drive--say an hour
and a half. Another hour for the soldiers to start, and three hours to
do the nineteen miles to the Vaughan, half-past eleven--perhaps half an
hour earlier, perhaps half an hour later. There was no fear but there
was plenty of water. The boiler was a large one, and was built partly
into, partly out of the engine-house. That is to say, while the
furnace-door, the gauges, and the safety-valve were inside, the main
portion of the boiler was outside the walls. The blow-off cock was two
inches in diameter, and the nozzle of the hose an inch and a half. It
would take some minutes then, even with the steam at a pressure of
twenty-five pounds to the inch, to blow the water out, and a minute
would, he was certain, do all that was needed.
Not even when, upon the first day of his life in the pit, Jack sat hour
after hour alone in the darkness, did the time seem to go so slowly as
it did that evening. Once or twice he thought he heard footsteps, and
crept cautiously up to the window to listen; but each time, convinced of
his error, he returned to his place on a bench near the furnace. He
heard the hours strike, one after another, on the Stokebridge church
clock--eight, nine, ten--and then he took his post by the window and
listened. A quarter of an hour passed, and then there was a faint,
confused sound. Nearer it came, and nearer, until it swelled into the
trampling of a crowd of many hundreds of men. They came along with
laughter and rough jests, for they had no thought of opposition--no
thought that anyone was near them. The crowd moved forward until they
were within a few yards of the engine-house, and then one, who seemed to
be in command, said, "Smash the door in with your sledges, lads."
Jack had, as they approached, gone down to the boiler, and had turned
the blow-off cock, and the boiling water swelled the strong leathern
hose almost to bursting. Then he went back to the window, threw it open,
and stood with the nozzle in his hand.
"Hold!" he shouted out in loud, clear tones. "Let no man move a step
nearer for his life."
The mob stood silent, paralyzed with surprise. Jack had spoken without a
tinge of the local accent, and as none of the boys were there, his voice
was quite unrecognized. "Who be he?" "It's a stranger!" and other
sentences, were muttered through the throng.
"Who be you?" the leader asked, recovering from his surprise.
"Never mind who I am," Jack said, standing well back from the window,
lest the light from the lanterns which some of the men carried might
fall on his face. "I am here in the name of the law. I warn you to
desist from your evil design. Go to your homes; the soldiers are on
their way, and may be here any minute. Moreover, I have means here of
destroying any man who attempts to enter."
There was a movement in the crowd. "The soldiers be coming" ran from
mouth to mouth, and the more timid began to move towards the outside of
the crowd.
"Stand firm, lads, it be a lie," shouted the leader. "Thee baint to be
frighted by one man, be'est 'ee? What! five hundred Staffordshire miners
afeard o' one? Why, ye'll be the laughing-stock of the country! Now,
lads, break in the door; we'll soon see who be yon chap that talks so
big."
There was a rush to the door, and a thundering clatter as the heavy
blows of the sledge-hammers fell on the wood; while another party began
an assault upon the door of the winding-engine house.
Then Jack, with closely pressed lips and set face, turned the cock of
the nozzle.
With a hiss the scalding water leaped out in a stream. Jack stood well
forward now and with the hose swept the crowd, as a fireman might sweep
a burning building. Driven by the tremendous force of the internal
steam, the boiling water knocked the men in front headlong over; then,
as he raised the nozzle and scattered the water broadcast over the
crowd, wild yells, screams, and curses broke on the night air. Another
move, and the column of boiling fluid fell on those engaged on the other
engine-house door, and smote them down.
Then Jack turned the cock again, and the stream of water ceased.
It was but a minute since he had turned it on, but it had done its
terrible work. A score of men lay on the ground, rolling in agony;
others danced, screamed, and yelled in pain; others, less severely
scalded, filled the air with curses; while all able to move made a wild
rush back from the terrible building.
When the wild cries had a little subsided, Jack called out,--
"Now, lads, you can come back safely. I have plenty more hot water, and
I could have scalded the whole of you as badly as those in front had I
wanted to. Now I promise, on my oath, not to turn it on again if you
will come and carry off your mates who are here. Take them off home as
quick as you can, before the soldiers come. I don't want to do you harm.
You'd all best be in bed as soon as you can."
The men hesitated, but it was clear to them all that it had been in the
power of their unknown foe to have inflicted a far heavier punishment
upon them than he had done, and there was a ring of truth and honesty in
his voice which they could not doubt. So after a little hesitation a
number of them came forward, and lifting the men who had fallen near the
engine-house, carried them off; and in a few minutes there was a deep
silence where, just before, a very pandemonium had seemed let loose.
Then Jack, the strain over, sat down, and cried like a child.
Half an hour later, listening intently, he heard a deep sound in the
distance. "Here come the soldiers," he muttered, "it is time for me to
be off." He glanced at the steam-gauge, and saw that the steam was
falling, while the water-gauge showed that there was still sufficient
water for safety, and he then opened the window at the back of the
building, and dropped to the ground. In an instant he was seized in a
powerful grasp.
"I thought ye'd be coming out here, and now I've got ye," growled a deep
voice, which Jack recognized as that of Roger Hawking, the terror of
Stokebridge.
For an instant his heart seemed to stand still at the extent of his
peril; then, with a sudden wrench, he swung round and faced his captor,
twisted his hands in his handkerchief, and drove his knuckles into his
throat. Then came a crashing blow in his face--another, and another.
With head bent down, Jack held on his grip with the gameness and
tenacity of a bull-dog, while the blows rained on his head, and his
assailant, in his desperate effort to free himself, swung his body
hither and thither in the air, as a bull might swing a dog which had
pinned him. Jack felt his senses going--a dull dazed feeling came over
him. Then he felt a crash, as his adversary reeled and fell--and then
all was dark.
[Illustration: A LIFE OR DEATH STRUGGLE.]
It could have been but a few minutes that he lay thus, for he awoke with
the sound of a thunder of horses' hoofs, and a clatter of swords in the
yard on the other side of the engine-house. Rousing himself, he found
that he still grasped the throat of the man beneath him. With a vague
sense of wonder whether his foe was dead, he rose to his feet and
staggered off, the desire to avoid the troops dispersing all other ideas
in his brain. For a few hundred yards he staggered along, swaying like a
drunken man, and knowing nothing of where he was going; then he
stumbled, and fell again, and lay for hours insensible.
It was just the faint break of day when he came to, the cold air of the
morning having brought him to himself. It took him a few minutes to
recall what had happened and his whereabouts. Then he made his way to
the canal, which was close by, washed the blood from his face, and set
out to walk to Birmingham. He was too shaken and bruised to make much
progress, and after walking for a while crept into the shelter of a
haystack, and went off to sleep for many hours. After it was dusk in the
evening he started again, and made his way to his lodgings at ten
o'clock that night. It was a fortnight before he could leave his room,
so bruised and cut was his face, and a month before the last sign of the
struggle was obliterated, and he felt that he could return to
Stokebridge without his appearance being noticed.
There, great changes had taken place. The military had found the
splintered door, the hose, and the still steaming water in the yard, and
the particulars of the occurrence which had taken place had been pretty
accurately judged. They were indeed soon made public by the stories of
the scalded men, a great number of whom were forced to place themselves
in the hands of the doctor, many of them having had very narrow escapes
of their lives, but none of them had actually succumbed. In searching
round the engine-house the soldiers had found a man, apparently dead,
his tongue projecting from his mouth. A surgeon had accompanied them,
and a vein having been opened and water dashed in his face, he gave
signs of recovery. He had been taken off to jail as being concerned in
the attack on the engine-house; but no evidence could be obtained
against him, and he would have been released had he not been recognized
as a man who had, five years before, effected a daring escape from
Portland, where he was undergoing a life sentence for a brutal
manslaughter.
The defeat of the attempt to destroy the Vaughan engines was the
death-blow of the strike. Among the foremost in the attack, and
therefore so terribly scalded that they were disabled for weeks, were
most of the leaders of the strike in the pits of the district, and their
voices silenced, and their counsel discredited, the men two days after
the attack had a great meeting, at which it was resolved almost
unanimously to go to work on the masters' terms.
Great excitement was caused throughout the district by the publication
of the details of the defence of the engine-house, and the most
strenuous efforts were made by Mr. Brook to discover the person to whom
he was so indebted. The miners were unanimous in describing him as a
stranger, and as speaking like a gentleman; and there was great wonder
why any one who had done so great a service to the mine-owners should
conceal his identity. Jack's secret was, however, well kept by the three
or four who alone knew it, and who knew too that his life would not be
safe for a day did the colliers, groaning and smarting over their
terrible injuries, discover to whom they were indebted for them.