Читать книгу: «A Life's Secret», страница 17

CHAPTER VIII.
A DESCENT FOR MR. SHUCK

Things were coming to a crisis. The Unionists had done their best to hold out against the masters; but they found the effort was untenable—that they must give in at last. The prospect of returning to work was eagerly welcomed by the greater portion of the men. Rather than continue longer in the wretched condition to which they were reduced, they would have gone back almost on any terms. Why, then, not have gone back before? as many asked. Because they preferred to resume work with the consent of the Union, rather than without it: and besides, the privations got worse and worse. A few of the men were bitterly enraged at the turn affairs seemed to be taking—of whom Sam Shuck was chief. With the return of the hands to work, Sam foresaw no field for the exercise of his own peculiar talents, unless it was in stirring up fresh discontent for the future. However, it was not yet finally arranged that work should be resumed: a little more agitation might be pleasant first, and possibly prevent it.

'It's a few white-livered hounds among yourselves that have spoilt it,' growled Sam to a knot of hitherto staunch friends, a day or two subsequent to that conjugal dispute between Mr. and Mrs. Dunn, which we had the gratification of assisting at in the last chapter. 'When such men as White, and Baxendale, and Darby, who have held some sway among you, turn sneaks and go over to the nobs, it's only to be expected that you'll turn sneaks and follow. One fool makes many. Did you hear how Darby got out his tools?'

'No.'

'The men opposed to the Union, opposed to us, heard of his wanting them, and they clubbed together, and made up the tin, and Darby is to pay 'em back so much a-week—two shillings I think it is. Before I'd lie under obligation to the non-Unionist men, I'd shoot myself. What good has the struggle done you?'

'None,' said a voice. 'It have done a good deal of harm.'

'Ay, it has—if it is to die out in this ignoble way,' said Sam. 'Better have been slaving like dray-horses all along, than break down in the effort to escape the slavery, and hug it to your arms again. If you had only half the spirit of men, you'd stop White's work for awhile, and Darby's too, as you did Baxendale's. Have you been thinking over what was said last night?' he continued, in a lower tone. The men nodded. One of them ventured to express an opinion that it was a 'dangerous game.'

'That depends upon how it's done,' said Shuck. 'Who has been the worse, pray, for the pitching into Baxendale? Can he, or anybody else, point a finger and say, "It was you did it?" or "It was you?" Why, of course he can't.'

'One might not come off again with the like luck.'

'Psha!' returned Sam, evincing a great amount of ridicule.

'But one mightn't, Shuck,' persisted his adversary.

'Oh, let the traitors alone, to go their own way in triumph if you like; get up a piece of plate for them, with their names wrote on it in gold,' satirically answered Sam. 'Yah! it sickens one to see you true fellows going over to the oppressionists.'

'How do you make out that White, and them, be oppressionists?'

'White, and them? they are worse than oppressionists a thousand times over,' fiercely cried Sam. 'I can't find words bad enough for them. It isn't of them I spoke: I spoke of the masters.'

'Well, Shuck, there's oppression on all sides, I think,' rejoined one of the men. 'I'd be glad to rise in the world if I could, and I'd work over hours to help me on to it and to educate my children a bit better than common; but if you come down upon me and say, "You shall not do it, you shall only work the stated hours laid down, and nobody shall work more," I call that oppression.'

'So it is,' assented another voice. 'The masters never oppressed us like that.'

'What's fair for one is fair for all,' said Sam. 'We must work and share alike.'

'That would be right enough if we all had talents and industry equal,' was the reply. 'But as we haven't, and never shall have, it can't be fair to put a limit on us.'

'There's one question I'd like to have answered, Shuck,' interposed a former speaker: 'but I'm afeared it never will be answered, with satisfaction to us. What is to become of those men that the masters can't find employment for? If every one of us was free to go back to work to-morrow, and sought to do so, where would we get it? Our old shops be half filled with strangers, and there'd be thousands of us rejected—no room for us. Would the Society keep us?' A somewhat difficult question to answer, even for Slippery Sam. Perhaps for that reason he suddenly called out 'Hush!' and bent his head and put up his finger in the attitude of listening.

'There's something unusual going on in the street,' cried he. 'Let's see what it is.'

They hurried out to the street, Sam leading the way. Not a genial street to gaze upon, that wintry day, taking it with all its accessories. Half-clothed, half-starved emaciated men stood about in groups, their pale features and gloomy expression of despair telling a piteous tale. A different set of men entirely, to look at, from those of the well-to-do cheerful old days of work, contentment, and freedom from care.

Being marshalled down the street in as polite a manner as was consistent with the occasion, was Mr. James Dunn. He was on his road to prison; and certain choice spirits of Daffodil's Delight, headed by Mrs. Dunn, were in attendance, some bewailing and lamenting aloud, others hooting and yelling at the capturers. As if this was not enough cause of disturbance, news arose that the Dunns' landlord, finding the house temporarily abandoned by every soul—a chance he had been looking for—improved the opportunity to lock the street-door and keep them out. Nothing was before Mrs. Dunn and her children now but the parish Union.

'I don't care whether it is the masters that have been in fault or whether it's us; I know which side gets the suffering,' exclaimed a mechanic, as Mr. Dunn was conveyed beyond view. 'Old Abel White told us true; strikes never brought nothing but misery yet, and they never will.'

Sam Shuck seized upon the circumstance to draw around him a select audience, and to hold forth to them. Treason, false and pernicious though it was, that he spoke, his oratory fell persuasively on the public ear. He excited the men against the masters; he excited them to his utmost power against the men who had gone back to work; he inflamed their passions, he perverted their reason. Altogether, ill-feeling and excitement was smouldering in an unusual degree in Daffodil's Delight, and it was kept up through the live-long day. Evening came. The bell rang for the cessation of work at Mr. Hunter's, and the men came pouring forth, a great many of whom were strangers. The gas-lamp at the gate shed a brilliant light, as the hands dispersed—some one way, some another. Those bearing towards Daffodil's Delight became aware, as they approached an obscure portion of the road which lay past a dead wall, that it bore an unusual appearance, as if dark forms were hovering there. What could it be? Not for long were they kept in ignorance. There arose a terrific din, enough to startle the unwary. Yells, groans, hootings, hisses, threats were poured forth upon the workmen; and they knew that they had fallen into an ambush of the Society's men. Of women also, as it appeared. For shrill notes and delicate words of abuse, certainly only peculiar to ladies' throats, were pretty freely mingled with the gruff tones of the men.

'You be nice nine-hour chaps! Come on, if you're not cowards, and have it out in a fair fight–'

'A fair fight!' shrieked a female voice in interruption 'who'd fight with them? Traitors! cowards! Knock 'em down and trample upon 'em!'

'Harness 'em together with cords, and drag 'em along like beasts o' burden in the face and eyes o' London!' 'Stick 'em up on spikes!' 'Hoist 'em on to the lamp-posts!' 'Hold 'em head down'ards in a horse-trough!' 'Pitch into 'em with quicklime and rotten eggs!' 'Strip 'em and give 'em a coat o' tar!' 'Wring their necks, and have done with 'em!'

While these several complimentary suggestions were thrown from as many different quarters of the assailants, one of them had quietly laid hold of Abel White. There was little doubt—according to what came out afterwards—that he and Robert Darby were the two men chiefly aimed at in this night assault. Darby, however, was not there. As it happened, he had turned the contrary way on leaving the yard, having joined one of the men who had lent him some of the money to get his tools out of pledge, and gone towards his home with him.

'If thee carest for thy life, thee'll stop indoors, and not go a-nigh Hunter's yard again to work!'

Such were the words hissed forth in a hoarse whisper into the ear of Abel White, by the man who had seized upon him. Abel peered at him as keenly as the darkness would permit. White was no coward, and although aware that this attack most probably had him for its chief butt, he retained his composure. He could not recognise the man—a tall man, in a large loose blue frock, such as is sometimes worn by butchers, with a red woollen cravat wound roughly round his throat, hiding his chin and mouth, and a seal-skin cap, its dark 'ears' brought down on the sides of the face, and tied under the chin. The man may have been so wrapped up for protection against the weather, or for the purpose of disguise.

'Let me go,' said White.

'When thee hast sworn not to go on working till the Union gives leave.'

'I never will swear it. Or say it.'

'Then thee shall get every bone in th' body smashed. Thee'st been reported to Mr. Shuck, and to the Union.'

'I'd like to know your name and who you are,' exclaimed White. 'If you are not disguising your voice, it's odd to me.'

'D'ye remember Baxendale? He wouldn't take the oath, and he's lying with his ribs stove in.'

'More shame for you! Look you, man, you can't intimidate me. I am made of sterner stuff than that.'

'Swear!' was the menacing retort; 'swear that thee won't touch another stroke o' work.'

'I tell you that I never will swear it,' firmly returned White. 'The Union has hoodwinked me long enough; I'll have nothing to do with it.'

'There be desperate men around ye—them as won't leave ye with whole bones. You shall swear.'

'I'll have nothing more to do with the Union; I'll never again obey it,' answered White, speaking earnestly. 'There! make your most of it. If I had but a friendly gleam of light here, I'd know who you are, and let others know.'

The confusion around had increased. Hot words were passing everywhere between the assailants and the assailed—no positive assault as yet, save that a woman had shaken her fist in a man's face and spit at him. Abel White strove to get away with the last words, but the man who had been threatening him struck him a sharp blow between the eyes, and another blow from the same hand caught him behind. The next instant he was down. If one blow was dealt him, ten were from as many different hands. The tall man with the cap was busy with his feet; and it really seemed, by the manner he carried on the pastime, that his whole heart went with it, and that it was a heart of revenge.

But who is this, pushing his way through the crowd with stern authority. A policeman? The men shrank back, in their fear, to give him place. No; it is only their master, Mr. Clay.

'What is this?' exclaimed Austin, when he reached the point of battery. 'Is it you, White?' he added, stooping down. 'I suspected as much. Now, my men,' he continued in a stern tone, as he faced the excited throng, 'who are you? which of you has done this?'

'The ringleader was him in the cap, sir—the tall one with the red cloth round his neck and the fur about his ears,' spoke up White, who, though much maltreated, retained the use of his brains and his tongue. 'It was him that threatened me; he was the first to set upon me.'

'Who are you?' demanded Austin of the tall man.

The tall man responded by a quiet laugh of derision. He felt himself perfectly secure from recognition in the dark obscurity; and though Mr. Clay was of powerful frame, more than a match for him in agility and strength, let him only dare to lay a finger upon him, and there were plenty around to come to the rescue. Austin Clay heard the derisive laugh, subdued though it was, and thought he recognised it. He took his hand from within the breast of his coat, and raised it with a hasty motion—not to deal a blow, not with a pistol to startle or menace, but to turn on a dark lantern! No pistol could have startled them as did that sudden flash of bright light, thrown full upon the tall man's face. Off flew the fellow with a yell, and Austin coolly turned the lantern upon others.

'Bennet—and Strood—and Ryan—and Cassidy!' he exclaimed, recognising and telling off the men. 'And you, Cheek! I never should have suspected you of sufficient courage to join in a thing of this nature.'

Cheek, midway between shaking and tears, sobbed out that it was 'the wife made him;' and Mrs. Cheek roared out from the rear, 'Yes, it was, and she'd have shook the bones out of him if he hadn't come.'

But that light, turning upon them everywhere, was more than they had bargained for, and the whole lot moved away in the best manner that they could, putting the stealthiest and the quickest foot foremost; each one devoutly hoping, save the few whose names had been mentioned, that his own face had not been recognised. Austin, with some of his workmen who had remained—the greater portion of them were pursuing the vanquished—raised Abel White. His head was cut, his body bruised, but no serious damage appeared to have been done. 'Can you walk with assistance as far as Mr. Rice's shop?' asked Austin.

'I daresay I can, sir, in a minute: I'm a bit giddy now,' was White's reply, as he leaned his back against the wall, being supported on either side. 'Sir, what a mercy that you had that light with you!'

'Ay,' shortly replied Austin. 'Quale, there's the blood dripping upon your sleeve. I will bind my handkerchief round your head, White. Meanwhile, one of you go and call a cab; it may be better that we get him at once to the surgeon's.'

A cab was brought, and White assisted into it. Austin accompanied him. Mr. Rice was at home, and proceeded to examine into the damage. A few days' rest from work, and a liberal application of sticking-plaster, would prove efficacious in effecting a cure, he believed. 'What a pity but the ruffians could be stopped at this game!' the doctor exclaimed to Austin. 'It will come to attacks more serious if they are not.'

'I think this will do something towards stopping it,' replied Austin.

'Why? do you know any of them?'

Austin nodded. 'A few. It is not a second case of impossible identity, as was Baxendale's.'

'I'm sure I don't know how I am to go in home in this plight,' exclaimed White, catching sight of his strapped-up face and head, in a small looking-glass hanging in Mr. Rice's surgery. 'I shall frighten poor old father into a fit, and the wife too.'

'I will go on first and prepare them,' said Austin, good-naturedly. Turning out of the shop on this errand, he found the door blocked up. The door! nay, the pavement—the street; for it seemed as if all Daffodil's Delight had collected there. He elbowed his way through them, and reached White's home. There the news had preceded him, and he found the deepest distress and excitement reigning, the family having been informed that Abel was killed. Austin reassured them, made light of the matter, and departed.

Outside their closed-up home, squatting on the narrow strip of pavement, their backs against the dirty wall, were Mrs. Dunn and her children, howling pitiably. They were surrounded with warm partizans, who spent their breath sympathizing with them, and abusing the landlord.

'How much better that they should go into the workhouse,' exclaimed Austin. 'They will perish with cold if they remain there.'

'And much you masters 'ud care,' cried a woman who overheard the remark. 'I hope you are satisfied now with the effects of your fine lock-out! Look at the poor creatur, a sitting there with her helpless children.'

'A sad sight,' observed Austin; 'but not the effects of the lock-out. You must look nearer home.'

The day dawned. Abel White was progressing very satisfactorily. So much so that Mr. Rice did not keep him in bed. It was by no means so grave a case as Baxendale's. To the intense edification of Daffodil's Delight, which had woke up in an unusually low and subdued state, there arrived, about mid-day, certain officers within its precincts, holding warrants for the apprehension of some of the previous night's rioters. Bennet, Strood, Ryan, and Cheek were taken; Cassidy had disappeared.

'It's a shame to grab us!' exclaimed timid Cheek, shaking from head to foot. 'White himself said as we was not the ringleaders.'

While these were secured, a policeman entered the home of Mr. Shuck, without so much as saying, 'With your leave,' or 'By your leave.' That gentleman, who had remained in-doors all the morning, in a restless, humble sort of mood, which imparted much surprise to Mrs. Shuck, was just sitting down to dinner in the bosom of his family: a savoury dinner, to judge by the smell, consisting of rabbit and onions.

'Now, Sam Shuck, I want you,' was the startling interruption.

Sam turned as white as a sheet. Mrs. Shuck stared, and the children stared.

'Want me, do you?' cried Sam, putting as easy a face as he could upon the matter. 'What do you want me for? To give evidence?'

'You know. It's about that row last night. I wonder you hadn't better regard for your liberty than to get into it.'

'Why, you never was such a fool as to put yourself into that!' exclaimed Mrs. Shuck, in her surprise. 'What could have possessed you?'

'I!' retorted Sam; 'I don't know anything about the row, except what I've heard. I was a good mile off from the spot when it took place.'

'All very well if you can convince the magistrates of that,' said the officer. 'Here's the warrant against you, and I must take you upon it.'

'I won't go,' said Sam, showing fight. 'I wasn't nigh the place, I say.'

The officer was peremptory—officers generally are so in these cases—and Sam was very foolish to resist. But that he was scared out of his senses, he would probably not have resisted. It only made matters worse; and the result was that he had the handcuffs clapped on. Fancy Samuel Shuck, Esquire, in his crimson necktie with the lace ends, and the peg-tops, being thus escorted through Daffodil's Delight, himself and his hands prisoners, and a tail the length of the street streaming after him! You could not have got into the police-court. Every avenue, every inch of ground was occupied; for the men, both Unionists and non-Unionists, were greatly excited, and came flocking in crowds to hear the proceedings. The five men were placed at the bar—Shuck, Bennet, Cheek, Ryan, and Strood: and Abel White and his bandaged head appeared against them. The man gave his evidence. How he and others—but himself, he thought, more particularly—had been met by a mob the previous night, upon leaving work, a knot of the Society's men, who had first threatened and then beaten him.

'Can you tell what their motive was for doing this?' asked the magistrate.

'Yes, sir,' was the answer of White. 'It was because I went back to work. I held out as long as I could, in obedience to the Trades' Union; but I began to think I was in error, and that I ought to return to work; which I did, a week or two ago. Since then, they have never let me alone. They have talked to me, and threatened me, and persuaded me; but I would not listen: and last night they attacked me.'

'What were the threats they used last night?'

'It was one man did most of the talking: a tall man in a cap and comforter, sir. The rest of the crowd abused me and called me names; but they did not utter any particular threat. This man said, Would I promise and swear not to do any more work in defiance of the Union; or else I should get every bone in my body smashed. He told me to remember how Baxendale had been served, and was lying with his ribs stove in. I refused; I would not swear; I said I would never belong to the Union again. And then he struck me.'

'Where did he strike you?'

'Here,' putting his hand up to his forehead. 'The first blow staggered me, and took away my sight, and the second blow knocked me down. Half a dozen set upon me then, hitting and kicking me: the first man kicked me also.'

'Can you swear to that first man?'

'No, I can't, sir. I think he was disguised.'

'Was it the prisoner, Shuck?'

White shook his head. 'It was just his height and figure, sir, but I can't be sure that it was him. His face was partially covered, and it was nearly dark, besides; there are no lights about, just there. The voice, too, seemed disguised: I said so at the time.'

'Can you swear to the others?'

'Yes, to all four of them,' said White, stoutly. 'They were not disguised at all, and I saw them after the light came, and knew their voices. They helped to beat me after I was on the ground.'

'Did they threaten you?'

'No, sir. Only the first one did that.'

'And him you cannot swear to? Is there any other witness who can swear to him?'

It did not appear that there was. Shuck addressed the magistrate, his tone one of injured innocence. 'It is not to be borne that I should be dragged up here like a felon, your worship. I was not near the place at the time; I am as innocent as your worship is. Is it likely I should lend myself to such a thing? My mission among the men is of a higher nature than that.'

'Whether you are innocent or not, I do not know,' said his worship; 'but I do know that this is a state of things which cannot be tolerated. I will give my utmost protection to these workmen; and those who dare to interfere with them shall be punished to the extent of the law: the ringleaders especially. A person has just as much right to come to me and say, "You shall not sit on that bench; you shall not transact the business of a magistrate," as you have to prevent these industrious men working to earn a living. It is monstrous.'

'Here's the witness we have waited for, please your worship,' spoke one of the policemen.

It was Austin Clay who came forward. He bowed to the magistrate, who bowed to him: they occasionally met at the house of Mr. Hunter. Austin was sworn, and gave his evidence up to the point when he turned the light of the lantern upon the tall assailant of White.

'Did you recognise the man?' asked the Bench.

'I did, sir. It was Samuel Shuck.'

Sam gave a howl, protesting that it was not—that he was a mile away from the spot.

'I recognised him as distinctly as I recognise him at this moment,' said Austin. 'He had a woollen scarf on his chin, and a cap covering his ears, no doubt assumed for disguise, but I knew him instantly. What is more, he saw that I knew him; I am sure he did, by the way he slunk off. I also recognised his laugh.'

'Did you take the lantern with you purposely?' asked the clerk of the court.

'I did,' replied Austin. 'A hint was given me in the course of yesterday afternoon, that an attack upon our men was in agitation. I determined to discover the ringleaders, if possible, should it take place, and not to let the darkness baffle justice, as was the case in the attack upon Baxendale. For this purpose I put the lantern in readiness, and had the men watched when they left the yard. As soon as the assault began, my messenger returned to tell me.'

'You hit upon a good plan, Mr. Clay.'

Austin smiled. 'I think I did,' he answered.

Unfortunately for Mr. Samuel Shuck, another witness had seen his face distinctly when the light was turned on; and his identity with 'the tall man disguised' was established beyond dispute. In an evil hour, Sam had originated this attack on White; but, not feeling altogether sure of the courage of his men, he had determined to disguise himself and take part in the business, saying not a word to anybody. He had not bargained for the revelation that might be brought by means of a dark lantern.

The proceedings in court were prolonged, but they terminated at length. Bennet, Strood, and Ryan were condemned to pay a fine of £5 each, or be imprisoned for two months. Cheek managed to get off. Mr. Sam Shuck, to whom the magistrate was bitterly severe in his remarks—for he knew perfectly well the part enacted by the man from the first—was sentenced to six months at the treadmill, without the option of a fine. What a descent for Slippery Sam!