“Ha’ done with yo,” I cried in anger. “Faith Booth’s as much aboon me as our Mary is aboon you. And never speak again to me about such things as this. I want no secrets from you, and I’ll tell none to you. We’re in th’ same boat as far as this business we’re on to–night goes, but beyond that we’ve nought in common; and so, Ben Walker, without offence, give me as wide a berth as I’ll give thee.” And I fairly ran off and left him.
In the kitchen of the Nag’s Head, George Mellor and Soldier Jack and some score or more of those who had joined the brotherhood, mostly men of the neighbourhood, but some from Heckmondwike and Liversedge way, others from Outlane and the Nook, were already in warm debate. The fire was roaring in the grate, pipes had been lighted, pewters filled, and the buzz of conversation and bursts of laughter filled the low room. George was in great fettle that night. He was always best and brightest in action. Indeed he had much to put his head up. He was obeyed, without question, by many a hundred men; all bound together by a solemn oath, who had implicit trust in him. The military and the special constables were only our sport. They were never any serious hindrance, at first, to anything we took in hand. The mill owners were in fear for their machines, and would rather any night pay than fight. And for the great mass of the people, those who had to work for their living, they believed in General Ludd. In some way they could not fathom nor explain the Luddites were to bring back the good times, to mend trade, to stock the cupboard, to brighten the grate, to put warm clothes on the poor shivering little children. It is not much the poor ask, only warmth and food and shelter, and a little joy now and then. They are very ready to listen to anyone who will promise them this, and if they do not see exactly how it is all to come about, are they the only ones who mistake hope for belief? And George liked the people’s trust. When an old hag stopped him in the road and praised his bonny face and bid him be true to the poor, anyone could see the words were sweet to him, and he would empty his pocket into her skinny, eager hand. And he liked too the sense of powers. To command, to be obeyed, to be trusted, to be feared—by your enemies who does not like it? Find me the man who says he doesn’t and I’ll find you a liar.
Where George got his money from to treat as he did I don’t know. He nearly always had money with him, and when he hadn’t he had credit with the landlord. We never stinted for ale on the nights we were out on such jobs as that at Marsh, and this night was no exception. And his good humour was shared by all of us. Those who had been up to Marsh had to tell the tale to those who hadn’t, and there were roars of laughter as Soldier Jack showed the scratches left on his face by the sharp nails of Mrs. S———.
“We’re winning all along the line,” George cried. Th’ specials is fleyed on us. They take care to watch an’ ward just where they know we’re not. Th’ soldiers don’t like their job. It’s poor work for lads o’ mettle hunting starving croppers. Th’ people are with us. But we must strike a decisive blow that will once and for all show our purpose and our power. Every frame in the West Riding must be broken into matchwood; every master must learn that he has resolute and united men to reckon with. Let us once show our strength, and we will not rest till things are bettered for all of us. But we must strike a blow that will be felt the length and breadth of the land. It is baby work that we have been on to–night. We must go for the leaders of the masters, for those who hearten up such men as S———, of Marsh, the men who have both the brains and the pluck, curse ’em, not for the sheep who follow the bell–wether.
“Cartwright, of Rawfolds,” cried a Liversedge man.
“Horsfall, of Ottiwell’s,” said a Marsden cropper.
And then men laid aside their pipes and drained their pewters. And a man was set at the door to see no strangers entered, and we saw to the fastening of the shutters, and that no clink made a spy–hole into the room. And those who spoke hushed their voice, and those who listened strained an anxious ear. It was no child’s play now.
“Taylor’s have sent out a big order of finishing frames for Cartwright,” said one Marsden man.
“Aye, and Cartwright swears he’ll work them if not another mill owner in England dare,” said William Hall, of Parking Hole.
“I like his mettle,” said George. “That Cartwright is a game cock, and we must cut his comb or he’ll crow over th’ lot on us. If we can only settle such as him, we’st have no bother wi’ th’ others. Na, lads, my mind’s made up. Yo’ all know what this Cartwright is doing. Aw’ve nowt agen him except th’ machines. If we let him put up those frames he’s ordered, and work ’em, we might as well chuck up. One encourages t’ other, and if one succeed another will, nay must, follow suit.”