[CHAPTER XII.]
ANOTHER MEETING.
IT was on the whole an orderly meeting, and altogether an earnest one. For a momentous decision had to be made. Many pale and haggard men present had had no meal worth mentioning through the past day.
The masters' proposals were laid before them. The demand of the men on strike was for fifteen per cent. increase on their wages. Half this was conceded. If the men returned at once to work, seven and a half per cent increase should be theirs. If not, immediate measures would be taken to procure hands from elsewhere. This was distinctly stated.
Then came the discussion. Should the men accept the offer, or should they refuse to yield one jot of their demand?
Of course there were opposite views. Pope was loudly in favour of holding out; and he had his band of devoted followers. Some unionists, in receipt of a weekly allowance, which, though perhaps small, kept them from destitution, argued for firmness. But many present were not unionists; and it soon became evident which way the sense of the majority tended. Long pressure of want had loosened their implicit confidence in Peter Pope. Some of them had even begun to think a little for themselves, independently.
A good many stood up in turn. The delegates who had interviewed the masters came first. Then Pope was allowed full swing; and many of his hearers, carried away for the moment by his honeyed phrases, seemed to swing with him. But others spoke out plainly after, in rough and terse language, showing up the miseries of the strike and its doubtful advantages, also in some cases protesting against the tyranny which would impose upon them all, a yoke chosen by the few.
John Holdfast once again rose, and gave something of an abstract of his former speech, addressed now to larger numbers. It was well received, winning applause. When he sat down, Peter Stuckey made his appearance from a retired corner, and was hauled up on the platform. His crooked little figure and wizened comical face were the signal for a gust of laughter; but Peter stood his ground, nodded, smiled, and signified his intention to "say something."
The chairman, with a broad grin, introduced him to the audience, and a hail of clapping followed. Stuckey chose a convenient spot on which to stand, braced himself for mental action, forgot all about bodily action, and dashed into the fray.
"I've seen pretty nigh all of you before, men; so don't need to say where I'm comed from. I was a fellow-workman of some o' you once—till it pleased God to afflict me, and cut me off from such employment. Well—He gave me a friend to take care o' me, and one as has been a friend to many a one o' you too, more especial of late. We'll give a cheer for Mr. Hughes, by and by.—Wait awhile!" shouted Stuckey. "I've got a lot to say, and bein' none too used to public speakin', I'll maybe forget."