"If the squire will not do his duty," replied the carpenter, "he must be made to."
"And what be we to get out of it?" Hodge asked.
"The least you can expect, will be three acres and a cow," was the carpenter's reply; or the reply of a friend of his.
Here one of the Sike's family pushed his way to the front, and addressing himself to the carpenter, said, "Master, what are we to get out of this crib you're agoing to crack?"
The question being an extremely awkward one to answer, the carpenter pretended not to hear it. This is always a safe way out of such a difficulty if the questioner be not persevering.
The Port Watch struck a more popular, and at the same time, a more honest chord. "Look!" they cried, "at our market places! They are full of the cheap produce of our neighbours, who do a thriving business while our own people are starving. They bring their goods here without let or hindrance; but they shut their own doors against us, or make us pay toll. Look at the river there! that used to be crowded with our own craft. Now you see the flag of every nation floating upon its bosom, while our own ships are rotting for the want of something to do. Foreign competition is ousting you from your markets as the marten ousts the squirrel from her nest. If you want a coat, or a pair of trousers made, in comes your foreign tailor who will sew and stitch for sixteen hours a day for what is barely sufficient to keep body and soul together. If you, my lads, come down, he will come down lower."
At this speech loud cries of indignation rose up from a multitude of listeners, and the spokesman of a crowd of sailors, jumping up on a tar barrel, exclaimed, "Damme, my mates! (It is a bad habit, but sailors will swear.) The gentlemen of the Port Watch says true. We are being weathered by these lubberly furriners, who visit our shores in shoals like mackerel; and thus take all the wind out of our sails. Damme, mates! they are that mean that a well worn quid won't escape them, can we work against such varmint as these?"
"No!" came from a thousand hoarse throats.
"Is it right, my hearties," continued the speaker, "that the old man should treat us like this?"
"It ain't right," came from all sides.