CHAPTER LVI.
CUI BONO?
Of the further doings of that day it seems hardly necessary to write,for the papers recorded it with a fulness impossible here. The gatheringcrowds. The reinforcement of the militia. The clearing and holding ofForty-second Street to the river. The arrival of the three barge-loadsof "scabs." Their march through that street to the station safely,though at every cross street greeted with a storm of stones and othermissiles. The struggle of the mob at the station to force back thetroops so as to get at the "rats." The impact of the "thin line" andthat dense seething mass of enraged, crazed men. The yielding of thetroops from mere pressure. The order to the second rank to fix bayonets.The pushing back of the crowd once more. The crack of a revolver. Thenthe dozen shots fired almost simultaneously. The great surge of the mobforward. The quick order, and the rattle of guns, as they rose to theshoulder. Another order, and the sheet of flame. The great surge of themob backwards. Then silence. Silence in the ranks. Silence in the mob.Silence in those who lay on the ground between the two.
Capital and Labor were disagreed as to a ten per cent reduction ofwages, and were trying to settle it. At first blush capital had the bestof it. "Only a few strikers and militia-men killed," was the apparentresult of that struggle. The scabs were in safety inside the station,and trains were already making up, preparatory to a resumption oftraffic. But capital did not go scot-free. "Firing in the streets of NewYork," was the word sent out all over the world, and on every exchangein the country, stocks fell. Capital paid twenty-five million dollarsthat day, for those few ounces of lead. Such a method of settlementseems rather crude and costly, for the last decade of the nineteenthcentury.
Boys all over the city were quickly crying extras of the "Labor-party"organ, the first column of which was headed:
BUTCHER STIRLING
THE NOMINEE OF THE DEMOCRATIC PARTY
SHOOTS DOWN UNARMED MEN
IN
COLD BLOOD.
This was supplemented by inflammatory broadsides. Men stood up onfences, lamp-posts, or barrels, wherever they could get an audience, andshrieked out invectives against police, troops, government, andproperty; and waved red flags. Orders went out to embody more regiments.Timid people retired indoors, and bolted their shutters. The streetsbecame deserted, except where they were filled by groups of angry menlistening to angrier speakers. It was not a calm night in New York.
Yet in reality, the condition was less serious, for representatives ofCapital, Labor, and Government were in consultation. Inside thestation, in the Directors' room of the railroad, its officials, acommittee of the strikers, and an officer in fatigue uniform, with aface to match, were seated in great leather-covered chairs, around alarge table. When they had first gathered, there had been dark brows,and every sentence had been like the blow of flint on steel. At onemoment all but the officer had risen from their seats, and the meetinghad seemed ended. But the officer had said something quietly, and oncemore they had seated themselves. Far into the night they sat, while mobsyelled, and sentries marched their beats. When the gathering ended, thescowls were gone. Civil partings were exchanged, and the committee andthe officer passed out together.
"That Stirling is a gritty bull-dog for holding on, isn't he?" said oneof the railroad officials. "It's a regular surrender for us."
"Yes, but we couldn't afford to be too obstinate with him, for he may bethe next governor."
One of the committee said to the officer as they passed into the street,"Well, we've given up everything to the road, to please you. I hopeyou'll remember it when you're governor and we want things done."
"Gentlemen," said Peter, "for every surrender of opinion you and therailroad officials have made to-night, I thank you. But you should havecompromised twelve hours sooner."
"So as you should not have had to make yourself unpopular?" askedKurfeldt. "You needn't be afraid. You've done your best for us. Nowwe'll do our best for you."
"I was not thinking of myself. I was thinking of the dead," said Peter.
Peter sent a despatch to headquarters and went the rounds to see if allwas as it should be. Then spreading his blanket in the passengerwaiting-room, he fell asleep, not with a very happy look on the graveface.
But the morning-papers announced that the strike was ended by acompromise, and New York and the country breathed easier.
Peter did not get much sleep, for he was barely dreaming of--of astriker, who had destroyed his peace, by striking him in the heart witha pair of slate-colored eyes--when a hand was placed on his shoulder.He was on his feet before the disturber of his dreams could speak.
"A despatch from headquarters," said the man.
Peter broke it open. It said:
"Take possession of Printing-house Square, and await further orders." Inten minutes the regiment was tramping through the dark, silent streets,on its way to the new position.
"I think we deserve a rest," growled the Lieutenant-Colonel to Peter.
"We shan't get it," said Peter, "If there's anything hard to be done, weshall have it." Then he smiled. "You'll have to have an understandinghereafter, before you make a man colonel, that he shan't run foroffice."
"What are we in for now?"
"I can't say. To-day's the time of the parade and meeting in City HallPark."
It was sunrise when the regiment drew up in the square facing the Park.It was a lovely morning, with no sign of trouble in sight, unless thebulletin boards of the newspapers, which were chiefly devoted to thedoings about the Central Station, could be taken as such. Except forthis, the regiment was the only indication that the universal peace hadnot come, and even this looked peaceful, as soon as it had settled downto hot coffee, bread and raw ham.
In the park, however, was a suggestive sight. For not merely were allthe benches filled with sleeping men, but the steps of the City Hall,the grass, and even the hard asphalt pavement were besprinkled with adirty, ragged, hungry-looking lot of men, unlike those usually seen inthe streets of New York. When the regiment marched into the square, afew of the stragglers rose from their recumbent attitudes, and looked atit, without much love in their faces. As the regiment breakfasted, moreand more rose from their hard beds to their harder lives. They movedabout restlessly, as if waiting for something. Some gathered in littlegroups and listened to men who talked and shrieked far louder than wasnecessary in order that their listeners should hear. Some came to theedge of the street and cursed and vituperated the breakfasting regiment.Some sat on the ground and ate food which they produced from theirpockets or from paper bundles. It was not very tempting-looking food.Yet there were men in the crowd who looked longingly at it, and a fewscuffles occurred in attempts to get some. That crowd represented theslag and scum of the boiling pot of nineteenth-century conditions. Andas the flotsam on a river always centres at its eddies, so these haddrifted, from the country, and from the slums, to the centre of thewhirlpool of American life. Here they were waiting. Waiting for what?The future only would show. But each moment is a future, till it becomesthe present.
While the regiment still breakfasted it became conscious of a monotonoussound, growing steadily in volume. Then came the tap of the drum, andthe regiment rose from a half-eaten meal, and lined up as if on parade.Several of the members remarked crossly: "Why couldn't they wait tenminutes?"
The next moment the head of another regiment swung from Chambers Streetinto the square. It was greeted by hisses and groans from the denizensof the park, but this lack of politeness was more than atoned for, bythe order: "Present arms," passed down the immovable line awaiting it.After a return salute the commanding officers advanced and once moresaluted.
"In obedience to orders from headquarters, I have the honor to report myregiment to you, Colonel Stirling, and await your orders," said theofficer of the "visiting" regiment, evidently trying not to laugh.
"Let your men break ranks, and breakfast, Major Rivington," said Peter.In two minutes dandy and mick were mingled, exchanging e
xperiences, asthey sliced meat off the same ham-bones and emptied the same crackerboxes. What was more, each was respecting and liking the other. Onetouch of danger is almost as efficacious as one touch of nature. It isnot the differences in men which make ill-feeling or want of sympathy,it is differences in conditions.
In the mean time, Peter, Ray and Ogden had come together over theirgrub, much as if it was a legal rather than an illegal trouble to bedealt with.
"Where were you?" asked Peter.
"At the Sixty-third Street terminals," said Ray. "We didn't have any funat all. As quiet as a cow. You always were lucky! Excuse me, Peter, Ioughtn't to have said it," Ray continued, seeing Peter's face. "It'sthis wretched American trick of joking at everything."
Ogden, to change the subject, asked: "Did you really say 'damn'?"
"Yes."
"But I thought you disapproved of cuss words."
"I do. But the crowd wouldn't believe that I was honest in my intentionto protect the substitutes. They thought I was too much of a politicianto dare to do it. So I swore, thinking they would understand that asthey would not anything else. I hoped it might save actual firing. Butthey became so enraged that they didn't care if we did shoot."
Just then one of the crowd shrieked, "Down with the blood-suckers. On tofreedom. Freedom of life, of property, of food, of water, of air, ofland. Destroy the money power!"
"If we ever get to the freedom he wants," said Ray, "we'll utilize thatchap for supplying free gas."
"Splendid raw material for free soap," said Ogden.
"He's not the only one," said Ray. "I haven't had a wash in nine hours,and salt meats are beginning to pall."
"There are plenty of fellows out there will eat it for you, Ray," saidPeter, "and plenty more who have not washed in weeks."
"It's their own fault."
"Yes. But if you burn or cut yourself, through ignorance, that doesn'tmake the pain any the less."
"They don't look like a crowd which could give us trouble."
"They are just the kind who can. They are men lifted off their commonsense, and therefore capable of thinking they can do anything, just asJohn Brown expected to conquer Virginia with forty men."
"But there's no danger of their getting the upper hand."
"No. Yet I wish we had orders to clear the Park now, while there arecomparatively few here, or else to go back to our armories, and let themhave their meeting in peace. Our being here will only excite them."
"Hear that," said Ray, as the crowd gave a great roar as anotherregiment came up Park Place, across the Park and spread out so as tocover Broadway.
As they sat, New Yorkers began to rise and begin business. But manyseemed to have none, and drifted into the Park. Some idlers came fromcuriosity, but most seemed to have some purpose other than the merespectacle. From six till ten they silted in imperceptibly from twentystreets. As fast as the crowd grew, regiments appeared, and taking uppositions, lay at ease. There was something terrible about the quiet wayin which both crowd and troops increased. The mercury was not high, butit promised to be a hot morning in New York. All the car lines took offtheir cars. Trucks disappeared from the streets. The exchanges and thebanks closed their doors, and many hundred shops followed their example.New York almost came to a standstill as order and anarchy faced eachother.
While these antagonistic forces still gathered, a man who had beenyelling to his own coterie of listeners in that dense crowd, extractedhimself, and limped towards Peter.
"Mr. Stirling," he shouted, "come out from those murderers. I want totell you something."
Peter went forward. "What is it, Podds?" he asked.
Podds dropped his voice. "We're out for blood to-day. But I don't wantyours, if you do murder my fellow-men. Get away from here, quick. Hideyourself before the people rise in their might."
Peter smiled sadly. "How are Mrs. Podds and the children?" he askedkindly.
"What is a family at such a moment?" shrieked Podds.
"The world is my family. I love the whole world, and I'm going torevolutionize it. I'm going to give every man his rights. The guttersshall reek with blood, and every plutocrat's castle shall be levelled tothe soil. But I'll spare you, for though you are one of the classes,it's your ignorance, not your disposition, that makes you one. Get awayfrom here. Get away before it's too late."
Just then the sound of a horse's feet was heard, and a staff officercame cantering from a side street into the square. He saluted Peter andsaid, "Colonel Stirling, the governor has issued a proclamationforbidding the meeting and parade. General Canfield orders you to clearthe Park, by pushing the mob towards Broadway. The regiments have beendrawn in so as to leave a free passage down the side streets."
"Don't try to move us a foot," screamed Podds, "or there'll be blood. Weclaim the right of free meeting and free speech."
Even as he spoke, the two regiments formed, stiffened, fixed bayonets,and moved forward, as if they were machines rather than two thousandmen.
"Brethren," yelled Podds, "the foot of the tyrant is on us. Rise. Risein your might." Then Podds turned to find the rigid line of bayonetsclose upon him. He gave a spring, and grappled with Peter, throwing hisarms about Peter's neck. Peter caught him by the throat with his freearm.
"Don't push me off," shrieked Podds in his ear, "it's coming," and heclung with desperate energy to Peter.
Peter gave a twist with his arm. He felt the tight clasp relax, and thewhole figure shudder. He braced his arm for a push, intending to sendPodds flying across the street.
But suddenly there was a flash, as of lightning. Then a crash. Then theearth shook, cobble-stones, railroad tracks, anarchists, and soldiers,rose in the air, leaving a great chasm in crowd and street. Into thatchasm a moment later, stones, rails, anarchists, and soldiers fell,leaving nothing but a thick cloud of overhanging dust. Underneath thatgreat dun pall lay soldier and anarchist, side by side, at last atpeace. The one died for his duty, the other died for his idea. The worldwas none the better, but went on unchanged.
The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him Page 56
