There was a chorus of howls, and roars of “Chair, Chair!” “Come down!” One of the men behind Marsten pushed him toward the edge of the platform, crying, “Obey the Chair!” This was the signal for a general onset, and, Marsten grappling with the foremost of his assailants, both went down together to the main floor. Instantly the meeting broke into an unmanageable mob, while Gibbons roared, “No violence, men!” and ineffectually waved his arms over the turbulent, seething, struggling mass. His appeals were as futile as Canute’s commands to the sea. The chairman pounded unheard on the table with his mallet. Once Marsten shook himself free and rose to his feet. His right hand, with the tattered letter still clenched in it, appeared above the heads of the combatants for a moment, then it suddenly disappeared, and he went down finally under the feet of the maddened, trampling horde.
The police struck in promptly and with effect. The side door was thrown open, and Marsten was dragged out through it, accompanied by several struggling, torn, and bleeding rioters who had been nabbed by the law. Gradually the pounding on the table became audible, and Gibbons’s voice, now hoarse with useless calling for peace, could be heard.
“I am sorry,” he began, “that there has been even a semblance of a disturbance here to-night. It will be used by our enemies against us; but, as you know, it all came about through disobedience to the Chair. I want to say nothing against an absent man, and I am sure we all hope he has not been hurt [cheers]; but if our ex-secretary had calmly bowed to the will of the meeting, and had refrained from laying hands on the man who merely requested him to obey the Chair, this deplorable event would not have occurred. When, after the last strike, you lost confidence in me, I bowed to the will of the majority without a murmur, and, as you all know, I have done my best, ever since, to assist my successor; and now that I have been called again to this position, through no wish of mine, I have but to obey the mandate thus given. I take it that it is your pleasure that this strike shall now cease. Although I have never said so, I always looked upon the present strike as an unnecessary one, and unjust. The firm, a short time since, voluntarily increased our wages, and this struggle has consequently never had the sympathy of the public, without which no great struggle can succeed. I do not venture to offer suggestions, but if any one here has a suggestion to make, I now give place to him.”
Gibbons did love the sound of his own voice, and it apparently gave pleasure to the majority present, for they loudly cheered all his noble sentiments.
A man promptly arose to his feet, and said it had lately been only too evident that Marsten had brought on this strike to further his own advancement, using the men, who trusted him, as tools for that purpose. Gibbons had said nothing on this point, but they all felt sore about it nevertheless; and although he admired Gibbons’s good heart in refusing to say a word against a fallen enemy, still the matter ought to be referred to. He moved that Gibbons be appointed to meet Sartwell as soon as possible and arrange terms for going back, getting, if he could, a promise that the “blacklegs” be discharged. There would be general satisfaction if this promise could be secured.
This was seconded, and carried unanimously. Once more Gibbons rose to his feet.
“A messenger I sent off a few moments ago reports that Sartwell is still in his office. He has been staying late for some time past, so it struck me he might be there now. I will go at once and confer with him, and will return as soon as possible and give you the result of the conference. Meanwhile you can transact any other business that may come before the meeting.”
Sartwell, alone in his office, expecting Marsten, was naturally surprised when Gibbons entered instead but he greeted the new-comer without showing that his visit was unlooked for.
“Mr. Sartwell,” began Gibbons, going straight to the point, “I have again been made secretary of the Union. If I end this strike will you make me assistant manager?”
Sartwell’s eyes partially closed, and he looked keenly at his visitor through the narrow slits for a moment or two before answering.