ANTHONY. She won't sink.
SCANTLEBURY. [With alarm.] Not while I'm on the Board I hope.
ANTHONY. [With a twinkle.] Better rat, Scantlebury.
SCANTLEBURY. What a man!
ANTHONY. I've always fought them; I've never been beaten yet.
WANKLIN. We're with you in theory, Chairman. But we're not all made of cast-iron.
ANTHONY. We've only to hold on.
WILDER. [Rising and going to the fire.] And go to the devil as fast as we can!
ANTHONY. Better go to the devil than give in!
WILDER. [Fretfully.] That may suit you, sir, but it doesn't suit me, or anyone else I should think.
[ANTHONY looks him in the face-a silence.]
EDGAR. I don't see how we can get over it that to go on like this means starvation to the men's wives and families.
[WILDER turns abruptly to the fire, and SCANTLEBURY puts out a hand to push the idea away.]
WANKLIN. I'm afraid again that sounds a little sentimental.
EDGAR. Men of business are excused from decency, you think?
WILDER. Nobody's more sorry for the men than I am, but if they [lashing himself] choose to be such a pig-headed lot, it's nothing to do with us; we've quite enough on our hands to think of ourselves and the shareholders.
EDGAR. [Irritably.] It won't kill the shareholders to miss a dividend or two; I don't see that that's reason enough for knuckling under.
SCANTLEBURY. [With grave discomfort.] You talk very lightly of your dividends, young man; I don't know where we are.
WILDER. There's only one sound way of looking at it. We can't go on ruining ourselves with this strike.
ANTHONY. No caving in!
SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of despair.] Look at him!
[ANTHONY'S leaning back in his chair. They do look at him.]
WILDER. [Returning to his seat.] Well, all I can say is, if that's the Chairman's view, I don't know what we've come down here for.
ANTHONY. To tell the men that we've got nothing for them [Grimly.] They won't believe it till they hear it spoken in plain English.
WILDER. H'm! Shouldn't be a bit surprised if that brute Roberts hadn't got us down here with the very same idea. I hate a man with a grievance.
EDGAR. [Resentfully.] We didn't pay him enough for his discovery. I always said that at the time.
WILDER. We paid him five hundred and a bonus of two hundred three years later. If that's not enough! What does he want, for goodness' sake?
TENCH. [Complainingly.] Company made a hundred thousand out of his brains, and paid him seven hundred—that's the way he goes on, sir.
WILDER. The man's a rank agitator! Look here, I hate the Unions. But now we've got Harness here let's get him to settle the whole thing.
ANTHONY. No! [Again they look at him.]
UNDERWOOD. Roberts won't let the men assent to that.
SCANTLEBURY. Fanatic! Fanatic!
WILDER. [Looking at ANTHONY.] And not the only one! [FROST enters from the hall.]
FROST. [To ANTHONY.] Mr. Harness from the Union, waiting, sir. The men are here too, sir.
[ANTHONY nods. UNDERWOOD goes to the door, returning with HARNESS, a pale, clean-shaven man with hollow cheeks, quick eyes, and lantern jaw—FROST has retired.]
UNDERWOOD. [Pointing to TENCH'S chair.] Sit there next the Chairman, Harness, won't you?
[At HARNESS'S appearance, the Board have drawn together, as it were, and turned a little to him, like cattle at a dog.]
HARNESS. [With a sharp look round, and a bow.] Thanks! [He sits, his accent is slightly nasal.] Well, gentlemen, we're going to do business at last, I hope.
WILDER. Depends on what you call business, Harness. Why don't you make the men come in?
HARNESS. [Sardonically.] The men are far more in the right than you are. The question with us is whether we shan't begin to support them again.
[He ignores them all, except ANTHONY, to whom he turns in speaking.]
ANTHONY. Support them if you like; we'll put in free labour and have done with it.
HARNESS. That won't do, Mr. Anthony. You can't get free labour, and you know it.
ANTHONY. We shall see that.
HARNESS. I'm quite frank with you. We were forced to withhold our support from your men because some of their demands are in excess of current rates. I expect to make them withdraw those demands to-day: if they do, take it straight from me, gentlemen, we shall back them again at once. Now, I want to see something fixed upon before I go back to-night. Can't we have done with this old-fashioned tug-of-war business? What good's it doing you? Why don't you recognise once for all that these people are men like yourselves, and want what's good for them just as you want what's good for you [Bitterly.] Your motor-cars, and champagne, and eight-course dinners.
ANTHONY. If the men will come in, we'll do something for them.
HARNESS. [Ironically.] Is that your opinion too, sir—and yours— and yours? [The Directors do not answer.] Well, all I can say is: It's a kind of high and mighty aristocratic tone I thought we'd grown out of—seems I was mistaken.
ANTHONY. It's the tone the men use. Remains to be seen which can hold out longest; they without us, or we without them.
HARNESS. As business men, I wonder you're not ashamed of this waste of force, gentlemen. You know what it'll all end in.
ANTHONY. What?
HARNESS. Compromise—it always does.
SCANTLEBURY. Can't you persuade the men that their interests are the same as ours?
HARNESS. [Turning, ironically.] I could persuade them of that, sir, if they were.
WILDER. Come, Harness, you're a clever man, you don't believe all the Socialistic claptrap that's talked nowadays. There 's no real difference between their interests and ours.
HARNESS. There's just one very simple question I'd like to put to you. Will you pay your men one penny more than they force you to pay them?
[WILDER is silent.]
WANKLIN. [Chiming in.] I humbly thought that not to pay more than was necessary was the A B C of commerce.
HARNESS. [With irony.] Yes, that seems to be the A B C of commerce, sir; and the A B C of commerce is between your interests and the men's.
SCANTLEBURY. [Whispering.] We ought to arrange something.
HARNESS. [Drily.] Am I to understand then, gentlemen, that your Board is going to make no concessions?
[WANKLIN and WILDER bend forward as if to speak, but stop.]
ANTHONY. [Nodding.] None.
[WANKLIN and WILDER again bend forward, and SCANTLEBURY gives an unexpected grunt.]
HARNESS. You were about to say something, I believe?
[But SCANTLEBURY says nothing.]
EDGAR. [Looking up suddenly.] We're sorry for the state of the men.
HARNESS. [Icily.] The men have no use for your pity, sir. What they want is justice.
ANTHONY. Then let them be just.
HARNESS. For that word "just" read "humble," Mr. Anthony. Why should they be humble? Barring the accident of money, aren't they as good men as you?
ANTHONY. Cant!
HARNESS. Well, I've been five years in America. It colours a man's notions.
SCANTLEBURY. [Suddenly, as though avenging his uncompleted grunt.] Let's have the men in and hear what they've got to say!
[ANTHONY nods, and UNDERWOOD goes out by the single door.]
HARNESS. [Drily.] As I'm to have an interview with them this afternoon, gentlemen, I 'll ask you to postpone your final decision till that's over.
[Again ANTHONY nods, and taking up his glass drinks.] [UNDERWOOD comes in again, followed by ROBERTS, GREEN, BULGIN, THOMAS, ROUS. They file in, hat in hand, and stand silent in a row. ROBERTS is lean, of middle height, with a slight stoop. He has a little rat-gnawn, brown-grey beard, moustaches, high cheek-bones, hollow cheeks, small fiery eyes. He wears an old and grease-stained blue serge suit, and carries an old bowler hat. He stands nearest the Chairman. GREEN, next to him, has a clean, worn face, with a
small grey goatee beard and drooping moustaches, iron spectacles, and mild, straightforward eyes. He wears an overcoat, green with age, and a linen collar. Next to him is BULGIN, a tall, strong man, with a dark moustache, and fighting jaw, wearing a red muffler, who keeps changing his cap from one hand to the other. Next to him is THOMAS, an old man with a grey moustache, full beard, and weatherbeaten, bony face, whose overcoat discloses a lean, plucked-looking neck. On his right, ROUS, the youngest of the five, looks like a soldier; he has a glitter in his eyes.]
UNDERWOOD. [Pointing.] There are some chairs there against the wall, Roberts; won't you draw them up and sit down?
ROBERTS. Thank you, Mr. Underwood—we'll stand in the presence of the Board. [He speaks in a biting and staccato voice, rolling his r's, pronouncing his a's like an Italian a, and his consonants short and crisp.] How are you, Mr. Harness? Did n't expect t' have the pleasure of seeing you till this afternoon.
HARNESS. [Steadily.] We shall meet again then, Roberts.
ROBERTS. Glad to hear that; we shall have some news for you to take to your people.
ANTHONY. What do the men want?
ROBERTS. [Acidly.] Beg pardon, I don't quite catch the Chairman's remark.
TENCH. [From behind the Chairman's chair.] The Chairman wishes to know what the men have to say.
ROBERTS. It's what the Board has to say we've come to hear. It's for the Board to speak first.
ANTHONY. The Board has nothing to say.
ROBERTS. [Looking along the line of men.] In that case we're wasting the Directors' time. We'll be taking our feet off this pretty carpet.
[He turns, the men move slowly, as though hypnotically influenced.]
WANKLIN: [Suavely.] Come, Roberts, you didn't give us this long cold journey for the pleasure of saying that.
THOMAS. [A pure Welshman.] No, sir, an' what I say iss—
ROBERTS.[Bitingly.] Go on, Henry Thomas, go on. You 're better able to speak to the—Directors than me. [THOMAS is silent.]
TENCH. The Chairman means, Roberts, that it was the men who asked for the conference, the Board wish to hear what they have to say.
ROBERTS. Gad! If I was to begin to tell ye all they have to say, I wouldn't be finished to-day. And there'd be some that'd wish they'd never left their London palaces.
HARNESS. What's your proposition, man? Be reasonable.
ROBERTS. You want reason Mr. Harness? Take a look round this afternoon before the meeting. [He looks at the men; no sound escapes them.] You'll see some very pretty scenery.
HARNESS. All right my friend; you won't put me off.
ROBERTS. [To the men.] We shan't put Mr. Harness off. Have some champagne with your lunch, Mr. Harness; you'll want it, sir.
HARNESS. Come, get to business, man!
THOMAS. What we're asking, look you, is just simple justice.
ROBERTS. [Venomously.] Justice from London? What are you talking about, Henry Thomas? Have you gone silly? [THOMAS is silent.] We know very well what we are—discontented dogs—never satisfied. What did the Chairman tell me up in London? That I didn't know what I was talking about. I was a foolish, uneducated man, that knew nothing of the wants of the men I spoke for.
EDGAR. Do please keep to the point.
ANTHONY. [Holding up his hand.] There can only be one master, Roberts.
ROBERTS. Then, be Gad, it'll be us.
[There is a silence; ANTHONY and ROBERTS stare at one another.]
UNDERWOOD. If you've nothing to say to the Directors, Roberts, perhaps you'll let Green or Thomas speak for the men.
[GREEN and THOMAS look anxiously at ROBERTS, at each other, and the other men.]
GREEN. [An Englishman.] If I'd been listened to, gentlemen—
THOMAS. What I'fe got to say iss what we'fe all got to say—
ROBERTS. Speak for yourself, Henry Thomas.
SCANTLEBURY. [With a gesture of deep spiritual discomfort.] Let the poor men call their souls their own!
ROBERTS. Aye, they shall keep their souls, for it's not much body that you've left them, Mr. [with biting emphasis, as though the word were an offence] Scantlebury! [To the men.] Well, will you speak, or shall I speak for you?
ROUS. [Suddenly.] Speak out, Roberts, or leave it to others.
ROBERTS. [Ironically.] Thank you, George Rous. [Addressing himself to ANTHONY.] The Chairman and Board of Directors have honoured us by leaving London and coming all this way to hear what we've got to say; it would not be polite to keep them any longer waiting.
WILDER. Well, thank God for that!
ROBERTS. Ye will not dare to thank Him when I have done, Mr. Wilder, for all your piety. May be your God up in London has no time to listen to the working man. I'm told He is a wealthy God; but if he listens to what I tell Him, He will know more than ever He learned in Kensington.
HARNESS. Come, Roberts, you have your own God. Respect the God of other men.
ROBERTS. That's right, sir. We have another God down here; I doubt He is rather different to Mr. Wilder's. Ask Henry Thomas; he will tell you whether his God and Mr. Wilder's are the same.
[THOMAS lifts his hand, and cranes his head as though to prophesy.]
WANKLIN. For goodness' sake, let's keep to the point, Roberts.
ROBERTS. I rather think it is the point, Mr. Wanklin. If you can get the God of Capital to walk through the streets of Labour, and pay attention to what he sees, you're a brighter man than I take you for, for all that you're a Radical.
ANTHONY. Attend to me, Roberts! [Roberts is silent.] You are here to speak for the men, as I am here to speak for the Board.
[He looks slowly round.] [WILDER, WANKLIN, and SCANTLEBURY make movements of uneasiness, and EDGAR gazes at the floor. A faint smile comes on HARNESS'S face.]
Now then, what is it?
ROBERTS. Right, Sir!
[Throughout all that follows, he and ANTHONY look fixedly upon each other. Men and Directors show in their various ways suppressed uneasiness, as though listening to words that they themselves would not have spoken.]
The men can't afford to travel up to London; and they don't trust you to believe what they say in black and white. They know what the post is [he darts a look at UNDERWOOD and TENCH], and what Directors' meetings are: "Refer it to the manager—let the manager advise us on the men's condition. Can we squeeze them a little more?"
UNDERWOOD. [In a low voice.] Don't hit below the belt, Roberts!
ROBERTS. Is it below the belt, Mr. Underwood? The men know. When I came up to London, I told you the position straight. An' what came of it? I was told I didn't know what I was talkin' about. I can't afford to travel up to London to be told that again.
ANTHONY. What have you to say for the men?
ROBERTS. I have this to say—and first as to their condition. Ye shall 'ave no need to go and ask your manager. Ye can't squeeze them anymore. Every man of us is well-nigh starving. [A surprised murmur rises from the men. ROBERTS looks round.] Ye wonder why I tell ye that? Every man of us is going short. We can't be no worse off than we've been these weeks past. Ye needn't think that by waiting yell drive us to come in. We'll die first, the whole lot of us. The men have sent for ye to know, once and for all, whether ye are going to grant them their demands. I see the sheet of paper in the Secretary's hand. [TENCH moves nervously.] That's it, I think, Mr. Tench. It's not very large.
TENCH. [Nodding.] Yes.
ROBERTS. There's not one sentence of writing on that paper that we can do without.
[A movement amongst the men. ROBERTS turns on them sharply.]
Isn't that so?
[The men assent reluctantly. ANTHONY takes from TENCH the paper and peruses it.]
Not one single sentence. All those demands are fair. We have not. asked anything that we are not entitled to ask. What I said up in London, I say again now: there is not anything on that piece of paper that a just man should not ask, and a just man give.
[A pause.]
ANTHONY. There is not one single demand on this paper that we
will grant.
[In the stir that follows on these words, ROBERTS watches the Directors and ANTHONY the men. WILDER gets up abruptly and goes over to the fire.]
ROBERTS. D' ye mean that?
ANTHONY. I do.
[WILDER at the fire makes an emphatic movement of disgust.]
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