The Mutable Many: A Novel

by Robert Barr

CHAPTER XXI.

GIBBONS knew that Monkton and Hope had gone to the Continent before Marsten shouted out this bit of information on the street in presence of the men. He saw that the game was up, and all he wanted was time in which to beat a retreat, posing, if possible, as the man who had brought about a settlement. As soon as Gibbons learned that the two nominal masters had gone, he tried to open communications with Sart-well, and sent a private letter to him, saying that, taking into consideration the privations of the men, and the large money loss to the firm, he was willing to sink all personal feelings and waive the proviso heretofore insisted upon regarding a meeting between the manager and himself. Gibbons expressed his willingness to withdraw from the conflict, and have a committee of the men appointed to wait upon Sartwell to arrange for the termination of the strike, but asked that his letter be regarded as confidential.

Sartwell, with perhaps unnecessary contempt, returned the letter to Gibbons, saying curtly to the bearer that there was no answer.

It is usually unwise to humiliate unduly a beaten adversary; but Sartwell was not versed in the finer arts of courtesy, and, when he hated a man, he hated him thoroughly, caring little for any reprisal his enemy might attempt.

Gibbons had ground his teeth in helpless rage when his letter was returned to him. He saw that no concession he could make would placate Sartwell; so, as the strike was doomed, he resolved to make the best of the inevitable retreat. The committee agreed that it was no longer possible to hold out, although they had refused Marsten’s request that a meeting be called and a vote taken. It was resolved that they convene a meeting at once, not waiting for nightfall (hoping in this way to deprive Marsten of any credit that might accrue from the surrender), and march the men in a body from the hall to the works, where the committee, with the exception of Gibbons, would precede them, to induce the manager to open the gates. Gibbons would then be able to say that he, not Marsten, had ended the strike; and he might even enact the rôle of a benefactor, who had sacrificed his own feelings in the interests of the men.

But luck was against Gibbons that day. When he reached the works he found Marsten there haranguing his fellow-workmen, imploring them to give in before it was too late, assuring them the two buildings would be full of workers on Monday, and then all efforts to enter would be fruitless. It was very apparent that the young man was already angered at the slight effect his appeal was making on the seeming indifference of the men, and, if Gibbons had been less angry from the rebuff he had received from the manager, he might have taken advantage of the position and scored. As it was, he had little time for planning any new line of procedure. The moment he appeared, Marsten demanded that a meeting should be instantly called and a vote taken. Gibbons asked him to mind his own business, saying he had an appointment with the owners of the works, and there would be a meeting to consider their reply. Then Gibbons learned that his falsehood was useless and that Marsten knew the owners had fled.

At this point the unexpected advent of Braunt, and the results that followed, tumbled all schemes to the ground like a house of cards.

Braunt, if he had thought about the matter (which he had not), was revenged at the end of the strike for his ignominious ejection from the hall at the beginning.

Gibbons retired with the committee to consult over the new situation. It was a gloomy consultation. As the men came out of the small gate one by one, each with half a week’s wages in his pocket and a packet of tobacco in his hand, Scimmins and another member of the committee stood outside, proclaiming that a meeting was called for that night, to discuss the events of the day in a friendly manner. No man answered; each hurried away to get something to eat or drink; nor did any appear that night at Salvation Hall. Next morning Scimmins and his fellow-committeemen applied to Sartwell for reinstatement, and were given their old places. Gibbons resigned the secretaryship of the Union, and his resignation was accepted, somewhat to his surprise; as he, knowing the men had been practically unanimous in bringing on the strike, expected to be asked to keep the office, with perhaps a vote of formal thanks. However, all blame for the failure was promptly placed on his shoulders, and he found himself suddenly called upon to seek another situation. His bitterness against Sartwell deepened into virulent hatred, and he heaped maledictions on the heads of the men whom so short a time ago he had swayed this way and that whenever he addressed them.

The morning after the surrender the gates stood invitingly open, and black smoke poured from the tall chimneys. The women and girls, who worked on the upper floors, were the first to come, and their pale faces turned in a look of mute thankfulness towards the banner of smoke flying above them like a signal of rescue. They had had no voice in bringing on the strike, and no voice in its cessation. No one during its continuance had been anxious to know whether they lived or died when strike pay ceased.