Through The Fray: A Tale Of The Luddite Riots

by G. A. Henty

  " You are right, no doubt," Ned said, " though that did not enter my mind. When I took the step my only fear was that by helping them for a time I might be injuring them in the future. Hand-weaving, spinning, and cropping are doomed. Nothing can save them, and the sooner the men learn this and take to other means of gaining a livelihood the better. Still the prices that I can give are of course very low, just enough to keep them from starvation, and we must hope that ere long new mills will be erected in which the present hand-workers will gradually find employment."

  Hardly less warm than the satisfaction that the announcement that Sankey was about to give out work to all the hand-looms excited in the villages round Marsden, was that which Abijah felt at the news.

  Hitherto she had kept to herself the disapprobation which she felt at Ned's using the new machinery. She had seen in her own village the sufferings that had been caused by the change, and her sympathies were wholly with the Luddites, except of course when they attempted anything against the life and property of her boy. Strong in the prejudices of the class among whom she had been born and reared, she looked upon the new

  machinery as an invention of the evil one to ruin the working-classes, and had been deeply grieved at Ned's adoption of its use. Nothing but the trouble in which he was could have compelled her to keep her opinion on the subject to herself.

  "I am main glad, Maister Ned. I b'lieve now as we may find out about that other affair. I never had no hope before, it warn't likely as things would come about as you wanted, when you was a-flying in the face of providence by driving poor folks to starvation with them noisy engines of yours; it warn't likely, and I felt as it was wrong to hope for it. I said my prayers every night, but it wasn't reasonable to expect a answer as long as that mill was a-grinding men to powder."

  " I don't think it was as bad as all that, Abijah. In another ten years there will be twice as many hands employed as ever there were, and there is no saying how large the trade may not grow."

  Abijah shook her head as if to imply her belief that an enlargement of trade by means of these new machines would be clearly flying in the face of providence. However she was too pleased at the news that hand-work was to be resumed in the district to care about arguing the question. Even the invalid upstairs took a feeble interest in the matter, when Abijah told her that Master Ned had arranged to give work to scores of starving people through the winter.

  As a rule Abijah never mentioned his name to her mistress, for it was always the signal for a flood of tears, and caused an excitement and agitation which did not calm down for hours; but lately she had noticed that her mistress began to take a greater interest in the details she gave her of what was passing outside. She spoke more cheerfully when Lucy brought in her work and sat by her bedside, and she had even exerted herself sufficiently to get up two or three times and lie upon the sofa in her room. It was Charlie who, full of the news, had rushed in to tell her about Ned's defence at the mill. She had made no comment whatever, but her face had flushed and her lips trembled, and she had been very silent and quiet all that day. Altogether Abijah thought that she was mending, and Dr. Green was of the same opinion.

  Although the setting to work of the hand-looms and spindles relieved the dire pressure of want immediately about Marsden, in other parts things were worse than ever that winter, and the military were kept busy by the many threatening letters which were received by the mill-owners from King Lud.

  One day Mr. Cartwright entered Ned's office at the mill.

  " Have you heard the news, Sankey?"

  " No, I have heard no news in particular."

  " Horsfall has been shot."

  " You don't say so!" Ned exclaimed.

  " Yes, he has been threatened again and again. He was over at Huddersfield yesterday afternoon; he started from the ' George' on his way back at half-past five. It

  seems that his friend Eastwood of Slaithwaite, knowing how often his life had been threatened, offered to ride back with him, and though Horsfall laughed at the offer and rode off alone, Eastwood had his horse saddled and rode after him, but unfortunately did not overtake him.

  " About six o'clock Horsfall pulled up his horse at the Warren-house Inn at Crossland Moor. There he gave a glass of liquor to two of his old work-people who happened to be outside, drank a glass of rum and water as he sat in the saddle, and then rode off. A farmer named Parr was riding about a hundred and fifty yards behind him. As Horsfall came abreast of a plantation Parr noticed four men stooping behind a wall, and then saw two puffs of smoke shoot out. Horsfall's horse started round at the flash, and he fell forward on his saddle.

  " Parr galloped up, and jumping off caught him as he was falling. Horsfall could just say who he was and ask to be taken to his brother's house, which was near at hand. There were lots of people in the road, for it was market-day in Huddersfield, you know, and the folks were on their way home, so he was soon put in a cart and taken back to the Warren-house. It was found that both balls had struck him, one in the right side and one in the left thigh. I hear he is still alive this morninff, but cannot live out the day."

  " That is a bad business indeed," Ned said.

  " It is indeed. Horsfall was a fine generous high-spirited fellow, but he was specially obnoxious to the Luddites, whose doings he was always denouncing in the most violent way. Whose turn will it be next, I wonder? The success of this attempt is sure to encourage them, and we may expect to hear of some more bad doings. Of course there will be a reward offered for the apprehension of the murderers. A labourer saw them as they were hurrying away from the plantation, and says he should know them again if he saw them; but these fellows hang together so that I doubt if we shall ever find them out."

  After Mr. Cartwright had gone Ned told Luke what had happened. " I hope, Luke, that none of the Varley people have had a hand in this business?"

  " Oi hoape not," Luke said slowly, " but ther bain't no saying; oi hears little enough of what be going on. Oi was never much in the way of hearing, but now as I am head of the room, and all the hands here are known to be well contented, oi hears less nor ever. Still matters get talked over at the ' Cow.' Oi hears it said as many of the lads in the village has been wishing to leave King Lud since the work was put out, but they have had messages as how any man turning traitor would be put out of the way. It's been somewhat like that from the first, and more nor half of them as has joined has done so because they was afeard to stand out. They ain't tried to put the screw on us old hands, but most of the young uns has been forced into joining.

  "Bill has had a hard toime of it to stand out. He has partly managed because of his saying as how he has been sich good friends with you that he could not join to take

  part against the maisters; part, as oi hears, because his two brothers, who been in the thick of it from the first, has stuck up agin Bill being forced into it. Oi wish as we could get that blacksmith out of t' village; he be at the bottom of it all, and there's nowt would please me more than to hear as the constables had laid their hands on him. Oi hear as how he is more violent than ever at that meeting-house. Of course he never mentions names or says anything direct, but he holds forth agin traitors as falls away after putting their hands to the plough, and as forsakes the cause of their starving brethren because their own stomachs is full."

  "I wish we could stop him," Ned said thoughtfully. "I might get a constable sent up to be present at the meetings, but the constables here are too well known, and if you were to get one from another place the sight of a stranger there would be so unusual that it would put him on his guard at once. Besides, as you say, it would be very difficult to prove that his expressions applied to the Luddites, although every one may understand what he means. One must have clear evidence in such a case. However, I hope we shall catch him tripping one of these days. These are the fellows who ought to be punished, not the poor ignorant men who are led away by them."

  The feeling of gratitude and respect with which Ned was regarded by the work
people of his district, owing to his action regarding the hand-frames, did something towards lightening the load caused by the suspicion which still rested upon him. Although he still avoided all intercourse with those of his own station, he no longer felt the pressure so acutely. The hard set expression of his face softened somewhat, and though he was still strangely-quiet and reserved in his manner towards those with whom his business necessarily brought him in contact, he no longer felt absolutely cut off from the rest of his kind.

  Ned had continued his practice of occasionally walking up with Bill Swinton to Varley on his way to the mill. There was now little fear of an attempt upon his life by the hands in his neighbourhood; but since the failure on the mill he had incurred the special enmity of the men who had come from a distance on that occasion, and he knew that any night he might be waylaid and shot by them. It was therefore safer to go round by Varley than by the direct road. One evening when he bad been chatting rather later than usual at Luke Maimer's, Luke said:

  " Oi think there's something i' t' wind. Oi heerd at t' Cow this evening that there are some straangers i' the village. They're at t' Dog. Oi thinks there's soom sort ov a council there. Oi heers as they be from Hudders-field, which be the headquarters o' General Lud in this part. However, Maister, oi doan't think as there's any fear of another attack on thy mill; they war too badly scaared t'other noight vor to try that again."

  When Ned got up to go Bill Swinton as usual put on his cap to accompany him, as he always walked across the moor with him until they came to the path leading down to the back of the mill, this being the road taken by the hands from Varley coming and going from work.

  When they had started a minute or two George, who had been sitting by the fire listening to the talk, got up and stretched himself preparatory to going to bed, and said in his usual slow way:

  " Oi wonders what they be adoing to-noight. Twice while ye ha' been a-talking oi ha' seen a chap a-looking in at t' window—"

  "Thou hast!" Luke exclaimed, starting up. "Dang thee, thou young fool! Why didn't say so afore? Oi will hoide thee when oi comes back rarely! Polly, do thou run into Gardiner's, and Hoskings', and Burt's; tell 'em to cotch up a stick and to roon for their loives across t' moor towards t' mill. And do thou, Jarge, roon into Sykes' and Wilmot's and tell 'em the same; and be quick if thou would save thy skin. Tell 'em t' maister be loike to be attacked."

  Catching up a heavy stick Luke hurried off, running into two cottages near and bringing on two more of the mill hands with him. He was nearly across the moor when they heard the sound of a shot. Luke, who was running at the top of his speed, gave a hoarse cry as of one who has received a mortal wound. Two shots followed in quick succession. A minute later Luke was dashing down the hollow through which the path ran down from the moor. Now he made out a group of moving figures and heard the sounds of conflict. His breath was coming in short gasps, his teeth were set; fast as he was running, he groaned that his limbs would carry him no faster. It was scarce two minutes from the time when the first shot was fired, but it seemed ages to him before he dashed into the group of men, knocking down two by the impetus of his rush. He was but just in time. A figure lay prostrate on the turf; another standing over him had just been beaten to his knee. But he sprang up again at Luke's onward rush. His assailants for a moment drew back.

  'Thou'rt joost in tonne, Luke," Bill panted out. "Oi war well-nigh done."

  " Be t' maister shot?"

  " No, nowt but a clip wi' a stick."

  As the words passed between them the assailants again rushed forward with curses and execrations upon those who stood between them and their victim.

  "Moind, Luke, they ha' got knoives!" Bill exclaimed. "Oi ha' got more nor one slash already."

  Luke and Bill fought vigorously, but they were overmatched. Anger and fear for Ned's safety nerved Luke's arm, the weight of the last twenty years seemed to drop off him, and he felt himself again the sturdy young cropper who could hold his own against any in the village. But he had not yet got back his breath, and was panting heavily. The assailants, six in number, were active and vigorous young men; and Bill, who was streaming with blood from several wounds, could only fight on the defensive. Luke then gave a short cry of relief as the two men who had started with him, but whom he had left behind from the speed which his intense eagerness had given him, ran up but a short minute after he

  had himself arrived and ranged themselves by him. The assailants hesitated now.

  " Ye'd best be off," Luke said; " there ull be a score more here in a minute."

  With oaths of disappointment and rage the assailants fell back and were about to make off when one of them exclaimed:

  "Ye must carry Tom off wi' thee. It ull never do to let un lay here."

  The men gathered round a dark figure lying a few yards away. Four of them lifted it by the hands and feet, and then they hurried away across the moor. As they did so Bill Swinton with a sigh fell across Ned's body.

  In two or three minutes four more men, accompanied by George and Polly, whose anxiety would not let her stay behind, hurried up. Luke and his companions had raised Ned and Bill into a sitting posture.

  "Are they killed, feyther?" Polly cried as she ran up breathless to them.

  " Noa," lass; oi think as t' maister be only stunned, and Bill ha' fainted from loss o' blood. But oi doan't know how bad he be hurted yet. We had best carry 'em back to t' house; we can't see to do nowt here."

  " Best let them stay here, feyther, till we can stop the bleeding. Moving would set the wounds off worse."

  " Perhaps you are right, Polly. Jarge, do thou run back to t' house as hard as thou canst go. Loight t' lanterns and bring 'em alone; wi' a can o' cold water."

  Although the boy ran to the village and back at the top of his speed the time seemed long indeed to those who were waiting. When he returned they set to work at once to examine the injuries. Ned appeared to have received but one blow. The blood was slowly welling from a wound at the back of his head.

  " That war maade by a leaded stick, oi guess," Luke said; " it's cut through his hat, and must pretty nigh ha' cracked his skool. One of you bathe un wi' the water while we looks arter Bill."

  Polly gave an exclamation of horror as the light fell upon Bill Swinton. He was covered with blood. A clean cut extended from the top of the ear to the point of the chin, another from the left shoulder to the breast, while a third £ ash behind had cut through to the bone of the shoulder-blade.

  " Never moind t' water, lass," Luke said as Polly with trembling hands was about to wash the blood from the cut on the face, " the bluid won't do un no harm, thou must stop t' bleeding."

  Polly tore three or four long strips from the bottom of her dress. While she was doing so one of the men by Luke's directions took the lantern and gathered some short dry moss from the side of the slope, and laid it in a ridge on the gaping wound. Then Luke with Polly's assistance tightly bandaged Bill's head, winding the strips from the back of the head round to the chin, and again across the temples and jaw. Luke took out his knife and cut oft" the coat and shirt from the arms and shoulder, and in the same way bandaged up the other two wounds. After

  George had started to fetch the lantern, Luke had at Polly's suggestion sent two men back to the village, and these had now returned with doors they had taken off the hinges. When Bill's wounds were bandaged he and Ned were placed on the doors, Ned giving a faint groan as he was moved.

  "That's roight," Luke said encouragingly, "he be a-cooming round."

  Two coats were wrapped up and placed under their heads, and they were then lifted and carried off, Polly hurrying on ahead to make up the fire and get hot water.

  " Say nowt to no one," Luke said as he started. " Till t' master cooms round there ain't no saying what he'd loike done. Maybe he won't have nowt said aboot it."

  The water was already hot when the party reached the cottage; the blood was carefully washed off Ned's head, and a great swelling with an ugly gash running across w
as shown. Cold water was dashed in his face, and with a gasp he opened his eyes.

  " It be all roight, Maister Ned," Luke said soothingly; "it be all over now, and you be among vriends. Ye've had an ugly one on the back o' thy head, but I dowt thou wilt do rarely now."

  Ned looked round vaguely, then a look of intelligence came into his face.

  " Where is Bill?" he asked.

  "He be hurted sorely, but oi think it be only loss o' blood, and he will coom round again; best lie still a few minutes, maister, thou wilt feel better then; Polly she be tending Bill."

  In a few minutes Ned was able to sit up; a drink of cold brandy and water further restored him. He went to the bed on which Bill had been placed.

  " He's not dead?" he asked with a gasp, as he saw the white face enveloped in bandages.

  "No, sure-lie," Luke replied cheerfully; "he be a long way from dead yet,oi hoape, though he be badly cut about."

  "Have you sent for the doctor?" Ned asked.

  "No!"

  " Then send for Dr. Green at once, and tell him from me to come up here instantly."

  Ned sat down in a chair for a few minutes, for he was still dazed and stupid; but his brain was gradually clearing. Presently he looked up at the men who were still standing silently near the door.

  "I have no doubt," he said, "that I have to thank you all for saving my life, but at present I do not know how it has all come about. I will see you to-morrow. But unless it has already got known, please say nothing about this. I don't want it talked about—at anyrate until we see how Bill gets on. Now, Luke," he continued, when the men had gone, " tell me all about it. My brain is in a whirl, and I can hardly think."

  Luke related the incidents of the fight and the flight of the assailants, and said that they had carried off a dead man with them.

  Ned sat for some time in silence.

  " Yes," he said at last, " I shot one. I was walking along with Bill when suddenly a gun was fired from a bush close by; then a number of men jumped up and rushed upon us. I had my pistol, and had just time to fire two shots. I saw one man go straight down, and then they were upon us. They shouted to Bill to get out of the way, but he went at them like a lion. I don't think any of the others had guns; at anyrate they only attacked us with sticks and knives. I fought with my back to Bill as well as I could, and we were keeping them off, till suddenly I don't remember any more."