CHAPTER XII.

ANOTHER MEETING.

IT was on the whole an orderly meeting, and altogether an earnest one. For a momentous decision had to be made. Many pale and haggard men present had had no meal worth mentioning through the past day.

The masters' proposals were laid before them. The demand of the men on strike was for fifteen per cent. increase on their wages. Half this was conceded. If the men returned at once to work, seven and a half per cent increase should be theirs. If not, immediate measures would be taken to procure hands from elsewhere. This was distinctly stated.

Then came the discussion. Should the men accept the offer, or should they refuse to yield one jot of their demand?

Of course there were opposite views. Pope was loudly in favour of holding out; and he had his band of devoted followers. Some unionists, in receipt of a weekly allowance, which, though perhaps small, kept them from destitution, argued for firmness. But many present were not unionists; and it soon became evident which way the sense of the majority tended. Long pressure of want had loosened their implicit confidence in Peter Pope. Some of them had even begun to think a little for themselves, independently.

A good many stood up in turn. The delegates who had interviewed the masters came first. Then Pope was allowed full swing; and many of his hearers, carried away for the moment by his honeyed phrases, seemed to swing with him. But others spoke out plainly after, in rough and terse language, showing up the miseries of the strike and its doubtful advantages, also in some cases protesting against the tyranny which would impose upon them all, a yoke chosen by the few.

John Holdfast once again rose, and gave something of an abstract of his former speech, addressed now to larger numbers. It was well received, winning applause. When he sat down, Peter Stuckey made his appearance from a retired corner, and was hauled up on the platform. His crooked little figure and wizened comical face were the signal for a gust of laughter; but Peter stood his ground, nodded, smiled, and signified his intention to "say something."

The chairman, with a broad grin, introduced him to the audience, and a hail of clapping followed. Stuckey chose a convenient spot on which to stand, braced himself for mental action, forgot all about bodily action, and dashed into the fray.

"I've seen pretty nigh all of you before, men; so don't need to say where I'm comed from. I was a fellow-workman of some o' you once—till it pleased God to afflict me, and cut me off from such employment. Well—He gave me a friend to take care o' me, and one as has been a friend to many a one o' you too, more especial of late. We'll give a cheer for Mr. Hughes, by and by.—Wait awhile!" shouted Stuckey. "I've got a lot to say, and bein' none too used to public speakin', I'll maybe forget."

"You've all been hearing a lot o' sensible words spoke this evening. More sensible by a long chalk than some as I've heard spoke other evenings. Werry good, so far! But it won't do to end with talk, lads; you've got to make up your minds for to act."

"Just you let me say first of all that I takes it this here is a conversational sort of a meetin' like, an' if any man don't agree with what's said, he's free to say so."

If this was a clever dodge of Stuckey's, to cover a sudden confusion of ideas, consequent on his unaccustomed position, it proved successful. Up started two or three men, and two or three voices cried—

"Got to act how? What action? Put it plain, Stuckey."

"Well, if ye wants me to be the mouthpiece of the meeting, I'll put it plain an' no mistake," said Stuckey. "Ye've got to consider these here proposals, and to answer them. Ye've got to settle whether ye'll say 'yes,' and go back to your work; or whether you give up, once an' for all. For mind ye, they ain't going to shilly-shally. There's work to be done, and if you won't do it, somebody else will. Yes—furriners, maybe—" in response to a general groan.

"It's no manner o' use to howl, boys! Howlin' won't stop 'em. I'm not especial fond o' furriners; no more than yourselves; but I hopes I've got a bit o' common' sense; and I do see that. If Englishmen won't work, furriners will. There's where it is. And it ain't likely the masters 'll keep the works all idle just as long as you choose, if others is willing to come and work. I wouldn't, if I was a master; nor none of you wouldn't, if you was masters. It's common-sense, lads."

"But the masters is willin' to come half-way to you, if you'll go half-way to them. That's reasonable, that is! As fair an end to a quarrel as can be; each side a-going half-way to meet the other. You wouldn't have all the givin' in on one side, would you? Leastways, save and except the wrong was all o' one side, which is a most uncommon state of affairs."

"Now I wouldn't go for to say in this here strike which side's been most wrong, nor which has been most right. Ain't no doubt it's been a half-and-half concern, right and wrong mixed up o' both sides like the plums an' suet in a pudden'. There's been mistakes, and there's been misunderstandings, and there's been a lot of hard words, not to speak of hard blows; and some o' you's misbehaved yourselves, an' forgotten your manliness, lads, for all Mr. Pope's so fond o' telling ye what a set of manly chaps ye be. It is forgetting your manliness, and it's acting like miserable curs an' sneaks, to set upon an innocent man in the dark, 'cause he don't see things just as you see 'em! An' you all know among yourselves whether there hasn't been some'at o' that sort going on, once and agin. But, howsoever, let's hope we won't have nothin' o' the sort agin, nor Englishmen forgetting they're men."

"Nor I won't go for to say as the masters is altogether right. For why? I ain't sure about it. Uncommon pleasant-spoken gentlemen they is, an' you knows it, an' ready to do a kindness any day. But there's a law of love and kindness, men, an' a law of thinking for others afore a man's own pocket; an' I shouldn't wonder if that 'ere law of Christian love don't always reign in the hearts of masters towards their men, no more than it always reigns in the hearts o' the men towards the masters. Eh, lads! I wonder now, I do, which is fittest to fling a stone at the other, for t'other's want of loving-kindness!"

"Well, now, to be werry plain indeed, an' to come to the p'int—my advice to you is,—End the strike! Accept these here proposals!"

"And put your necks into a noose!" protested a voice.

"Sounds uncommon like my namesake, t'other Peter," said Stuckey, peering about with wrinkled-up eyes. "Can't see ye nowhere, friend Pope, but maybe ye ain't far, seeing ye was on this here platform an hour since. If so be ye happens to be present still, allow me for to say as I condoles with ye most heartily, an' expresses the general sympathy o' the meeting, on the diminishment o' your income like to come on ye soon. It's werry tryin' to come down of a sudden in yer income! I've knowed that trial my own self, and my hearers has lately knowed it in a most marked an' melancholy way. We're werry grieved an' sad for ye, friend Pope; only 'tis more adwisable as your income should be diminished, than some hundreds o' families should be sunk altogether into a state o' starwation."

This sally was received with a burst of laughter, in the midst of which somebody quitted the hall.

"Shouldn't wonder if that's Mr. Pope hisself, so overcomed wi' the thoughts of his coming reduction, as he couldn't contain his emotions no longer. Werry sad for him! No! What—he's here still! Well, well,—'tisn't for to be expected as all present should disinterestedly sacrifice 'emselves for the sake o' Pope's pocket."

Tumultuous cheering, mingled with certain loud protests from Pope or Pope's friends, gave Peter time to rearrange his ideas, and to start afresh.

"You've all been a-hearin' of a lot o' wise remarks from Holdfast here. He's a friend o' mine, an' a friend o' many o' you, an' he's a friend worth havin'. For why? He's a man of sense, an' he's a true man. He don't butter ye up with clap-trap, and he ain't afraid to do what's right for fear o' consequences."

"There's been a lot of talk about banding together, and resisting of oppression. Now I'm not a-going to cry down Trades Unions. I'm not a-goin' to deny, no more than Holdfast does, that working-men needs to band together for mutual help and protection, an' lookin' after one another's interests, as well as layin' by money in store agin' a rainy day."

"But I'd like to speak a word of warning too, lads. Which is—Take care what ye're after! Don't ye, in fear of one tyranny, put yourselves under another. Trades Union men ain't infallible, no more than other men. Trades Unionism is werry apt to get selfish, and selfishness is short-sighted."

"I won't deny as Trades Unions has done a lot of good; an' ye needn't be in a hurry to deny as they've mayhap done some harm too. Just you think for yourselves. Haven't they sometimes encouraged bad feeling between men and masters? Haven't they sometimes pushed you into strikes which couldn't end but in failure and loss?"

"You're free an' independent working-men, ain't you? Well, but I wonder how many a one o' you dares stand out an' act independent in the face of the Union? How many a one among you, when he's at work, dares put forth his best strength, an do his utmost, an' run ahead of others? Ye don't need that I should tell you how things be! You look out sharp, men, or there won't be much o' your boasted freedom left to you soon,—and the tyrants of your choice will be those of your own standing. Don't see as that 'll make your bondage easier."

"Well, well, 'tis easy to see you don't all agree with me! Not surprisin', neither, it isn't! For why? There's lots o' bad workmen to every good workman. 'Tis natural the bad workmen an' the lazy chaps should want to put themselves on a level with the best an' the most diligent. But what's natural ain't always fair, nor it don't always work well in the end. If I was you, I'd learn to look ahead a bit. I can tell you, shorter an' shorter hours, an' higher an' higher wages, an' easier an' easier work, sounds mighty pleasant. But it may mean some'at in the future as won't be pleasant. It may mean trade driven away from English shores to foreign countries. It may mean less work to do and too many men to do it, in our land."

"Well; I've given my warning; an' that's all I can do. Anybody got any questions to ask?"

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