XVI
There is no solitude which comes so near being tangible as that ofa vast empty workshop, crowded a moment since. The busy, intense lifethat has gone from it mysteriously leaves behind enough of itself tomake the stillness poignant. One might imagine the invisible ghost ofdoomed Toil wandering from bench to bench, and noiselessly fingeringthe dropped tools, still warm from the workman's palm. Perhaps thisimpalpable presence is the artisan's anxious thought, stolen back tobrood over the uncompleted task.
Though Mr. Slocum had spoken lightly of Slocum's Yard with onlyone workman in it, when he came to contemplate the actual fact he wasstruck by the pathos of it, and the resolution with which he awokethat morning began to desert him.
"The worst is over," exclaimed Richard, joining his two friends onthe veranda, "and everything went smoother than I expected."
"Everything went, sure enough," said Mr. Slocum, gloomily; "theyall went,--old Giles, and Lumley, and everybody."
"We somewhat expected that, you know."
"Yes, I expected it, and wasn't prepared for it."
"It was very bad," said Richard, shaking his head.
The desertion of Giles and his superannuated mates especiallytouched Mr. Slocum.
"Bad is no word; it was damnable."
"Oh, papa!"
"Pardon me, dear; I couldn't help it. When a man's pensionersthrow him over, he must be pretty far gone!"
"The undertow was too strong for them, sir, and they were sweptaway with the rest. And they all but promised to stay. They will bethe very first to come back."
"Of course we shall have to take the old fellows on again," saidMr. Slocum, relenting characteristically.
"Never!" cried Richard.
"I wish I had some of your grit."
"I have none to spare. To tell the truth, when I stood up there tospeak, with every eye working on me, like a half-inch drill, I wouldhave sold myself at a low figure."
"But you were a perfect what's-his-name,--Demosthenes," said Mr.Slocum, with a faint smile. "We could hear you."
"I don't believe Demosthenes ever moved an audience as I didmine!" cried Richard gaily. "If his orations produced a like effect,I am certain that the Grecian lecture-bureau never sent him twice tothe same place."
"I don't think, Richard, I would engage you over again."
"I am sure Richard spoke very well," interrupted Margaret. "Hisspeech was short"--
"Say shortened, Margaret, for I hadn't got through when theyleft."
"No, I will not jest about it. It is too serious for jesting. Whatis to become of the families of all these men suddenly thrown out ofemployment?"
"They threw themselves out, Mag," said her father.
"That does not mend the matter, papa. There will be greatdestitution and suffering in the village with every mill closed; andthey are all going to close, Bridget says. Thank Heaven that this didnot happen in the winter!"
"They always pick their weather," observed Mr. Slocum.
"It will not be for long," said Richard encouragingly. "Our ownhands and the spinners, who had no ground for complaint, will returnto work shortly, and the managers of the iron mills will have toyield a point or two. In a week at the outside everything will berunning smoothly, and on a sounder foundation than before. I believethe strike will be an actual benefit to everybody in the end."
By dint of such arguments and his own sanguine temperament,Richard succeeded in reassuring Mr. Slocum for the time being, thoughRichard did not hide from himself the gravity of the situation. Therewas a general strike in the village. Eight hundred men were withoutwork. That meant, or would mean in a few days, two or three thousandwomen and children without bread. It does not take the wolf long toreach a poor man's door when it is left ajar.
The trades-union had a fund for emergencies of this sort, and someoutside aid might be looked for; but such supplies are in theirnature precarious and soon exhausted. It is a noticeable feature ofstrikes that the moment the workman's pay stops his living expensesincrease. Even the more economical becomes improvident. If he hasmoney, the tobacco shop and the tavern are likely to get more of itthan the butcher's cart. The prolonged strain is too great to beendured without stimulant.
The Stillwater Tragedy Page 16
