IN THE MINE
Maoriland Worker, Volume 4, Issue 116, 6 June 1913, Page 6
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IN THE MINE
Cracks at Crib Time
By BILLY BANJO
Hundreds of blade fathoms winding under the luxuriant bush the minem toil, wrestling with nature for their daily bread. In District 5, up No. 3 jig, four pair of howers work where "every hour sweats its sixty minutes." The wheels of time, clogged with dust and perspiration from the toilers' every pore moved feverishly and slowly —but they moved and registered as unerringly as in the fullest, brightest sunshine. Half-past eleven had como —crib-time in the mine! For half-an-hour according to' the Act of Parliament the miner, may r» lax their hold upon tbe tools of mdv.--try and—and dine! Crib-time! Matf? passes the word to mate, the almighty picks are laid aside and the steaming, .] ufc-bon.-iuicd workers seek their crib-tins and tea bottles —and dine. So the eight men up No. 3 Jig, District 6, could dine. Ben Revolt had been waiting on the signal, but not because he had a slack belt —in fict, Jta had..developed such an interest in crib-time that tho looking forward to it had become the harder part of his daily task. Ben had a habit, or we may say a custom, but to him it was law of laws, to write upon the big black coal in his place at the end of each quarter-«-when cavil day arrived which marked the rear ran gerpents of places—in large chalkwhite letters: REVOLT. To many this handwriting ou the walls was mysterious, and so regularly did it appear that the pick-swingers and kindred always spoke of him as "Ben Revolt." In District 5, Jig 3, we sat down to have crib. The usual'rough, perhaps, but kindly greetings over, silence fell ovor the company. A. distant sound of a travelling skip towards the lay-by could be heard, and the boom of a late shot. ."Poor chloroformed beggars," said Ben. ■ " Cripes, is he going to start again?" said some one; "blast him." That was the manner Ben usually prefaced his part in conversation, and more often was the sign that five minutes would.elapse before he paused. As we sat we could hear the'sound of picks about a pillar length away. Two of our mates who had a habit of coming late for a few days past had not joined us so far. "Shades of the cave-men!" exclaimed-Ben, as he rose and Bhouted in angry tones, that vibrated all around, "Crib Time!" Still the picks swung. Off set Ben towards the disturbing workers, his teeth grinding and muttering something about "the blind brothers of Judas." "He's a hopeless fool," a big fellow in moleskins said when Ben had gone; " Nothing but a revolution will satisfy that chap." " Wouldn't he be in his glory slitting the throats of the capitalists?" another ventured. " .Ay," said a trucker, who always joined us at crib-time, attracted by Ben's contributions in the daily discussions; "he told us plainly enough yesterday that we must demand a bloodless revolution to our wrongs *"f we can so arrange, but let it be as bloody as any of the past if need be—but Justice must be demanded." Further remarks were cut short by the voices from the other end of the. pillar. You bally proletarian!" shouted Mick McGren, "you always interfere —" " Come, chaps, don't let us qilarrel," replied Ren, ''toil is hard and wearing enough." "Well, Revolt, I wanted to get a big pay this time. One doesn't know where to next cavil." "Come out of that brute-etall and have crib* and we'll talk things over." So they came away. The conversation was very subdued, but we could hear an occasional sentence. " Times are hard with you, eh, -Mick?" "Seven children and a wife with livin' so high as it is it takes some doin'. But you are right this time. I'll stop wheneverll.3o comes in days to come." "It's alright, boys," said Mick, as he joined us, " I never thought of the low-down mean thing I was doin'. I I did it for the wife and kiddies, but Revolt makes it clear that I'm injuring them and you, working part of crib-time. No more of this, I tell you. These rights mukt be preserved, they were won—*won by a strike—a strike <_ "What next " sneered the big fellow in .moleskins; "didn't you curse when you cavilled Ben's place at ' Revolt' glowering over you like a witchs' spell?" «JAy, but those days are gone now mate." " Till you cavil away from Revolt." "Now, look ye here, you chloroformed dungareed proletarian, when I go. into another district heaven help the man that works during crib-time — whether he has twenty children, prospective little wage-slaves, or no I M} colonial! The workers' rights are sacred forever, and I've both hands up for the Revolution." Jim, the trucker, cried, "Hear, hear." _ "Where will we., all be next quarter?" Jim asked, with regret at our circle being broken up. "Well, we'll know to-night. It's a good system, this cavilling." " Chloroformed I Listen, fellow-workers." And as Ben spoke it was evident to all of us that the speech "was on." "This is a good system. Let's see. Suppose we proceed to analyse the position. Our names will go into one of the woo barrels, and the place numbers into the other. The barrels will be turned, and out comes the number of a place and a pair of'names respectively. Place and names are jpaired —Bourganny and his mate go to ! so-and-so number. This is repeated until; the barrels are empty. Up go the workers in excitement to find if a good or a bad cavil is their lot for the next three months. Isn't this a fact, fellow workers? You wealth producers in this gigantic and basic industry, we pick-swingers alone take part in the cavil." He paused for one second, then continued: "Are ever the shareholders or dividend-drawers in these barrels? No! It matters not to them tho result of this cavil at any time so long as the barrels go round and are well filled, and we retire to 6pend another three months in a good or bad place; but in the best the toil is bo terrible and desperately exacting! And on the night of the canl we go home, isn't it a fact, to wives and children who anxiously await the results of the cavil, for on it depends how the table will be furnished and how many new garments and even how many toys the little ones will get. A good system, mates—it's a gamble—a gamble with the little ones and .ur womenfolks. Go, think of it! See how th© masters play us against each other that injustice should Teign supreme. Ours the joil, the anxiety,, the goanelliag,
