Mr. Weihe seized this opportunity to suggest that a steamer be allowed to come up the river and tow away the barges. "Will the Little Bill come after them?" somebody howled, and once more pandemonium broke loose. Mr. Weihe's promise that an unobjectionable boat would be secured had, however, a quieting effect, and the meeting dispersed leaving the impression in the minds of the officials that the Pinkertons could be released.
The news of what had taken place in the meeting traveled quickly through the mill yard, reaching even the tireless laborers who had been throwing oil on the barges and who were now engaged in bombarding them with Roman candles, sky-rockets and other fireworks—surplus Fourth of July stock obtained from the stores.
Hugh O'Donnell seized this opportunity to make another plea for peace. Grasping a small American flag, the intrepid young leader sprang upon a pile of iron and commanded the attention of perhaps a thousand men, who gathered eagerly around him. O'Donnell began his speech cautiously, discussing the situation in such a manner as to feel the pulse of his auditory and make sure that he had their sympathy. After having assured himself of his ground, he unfolded a plan for a pacific settlement, suggesting that a truce be arranged, and that the workmen take the initiative by displaying a white flag.
"Show the white flag? Never," was the unanimous response. "If there is any white flag to be shown, it must fly from the boats."
This brought O'Donnell to the point he wished to reach, "What will we do then?" he asked.
"We will hold them in the boats until the Sheriff comes and we will have warrants sworn out for every man for murder. The Sheriff will then have to take them in charge," said one man, and, singularly enough, considering the mood in which the men had been a few minutes before, this comparatively mild proposal evoked a general shout of approval.
O'Donnell, satisfied that a peaceable adjustment could now be effected, stepped down and went among the men strengthening the resolution which had just been taken. In the meantime the Pinkertons had been holding a final conference among themselves. A majority favored surrender and forced the captains, who were still doggedly bent upon holding out, to give in. Once more a white flag was hoisted on the Iron Mountain, and this time it was not shot down.
At the sight of the flag, the workmen cheered and cries of "Victory!" "We have them now," "They surrender," rent the air.
O' Donnell, accompanied by two other members of the advisory committee, ran down to the river bank and received the message of the detective who acted as spokesman. The purport of it was that the Pinkertons would surrender if protection from violence were assured to them. After a short parley, this was agreed to, although the howls and imprecations of an unruly mob which had thronged into the mill-yard boded ill for the fulfilment of the guarantee. O'Donnell had more than his own comrades to answer for. Throughout the afternoon thousands of outsiders—some of them millmen from South Pittsburgh, some roughs and toughs who relished the prospect of taking a hand in a fight of any kind, some Anarchists, aching for a chance to strike a blow at "Capital" and its representatives—had walked into Homestead over the railroad tracks and were now mingled with the steelworkers. These strangers, of course, were careless of consequences and indifferent to the restraining influence of O'Donnell and those associated with O'Donnell in ending the conflict. The women, too, were not to be relied upon. After being shut out of the battle-ground all day, it was questionable whether or not they could be held in check when the Pinkertons were placed at their mercy. It is well to bear these facts in mind in connection with the painful scene which is now to be depicted.
The Pinkertons, despite O'Donnell's pledge of protection, seemed to lose all heart when the moment came to leave the barges. Nobody was willing to be the first to go on shore, and, as if seized by a panic, the helpless wretches huddled together behind benches and boxes and waited, in fear and trembling, for a summons from the other side. The workmen, however, were not slow to make themselves masters of the situation. Hundreds of them rushed down the bank, crossed the gang-plank and clambered into the barges. On the shore a tremendous crowd gathered, hooting and yelling, most of them carrying weapons of some kind. No wonder the Pinkertons blenched. They had to run the gauntlet, and if the experience before them was not destined to be almost as trying as that attributed to the victims of the gauntlet torture in tales of Indian life, it was not because the mob did not show all signs of thirsting for a fierce carnival of revenge.