FREE LABOUR.

Lyttelton Times, Volume CXV, Issue 16606, 18 July 1914, Page 2

FREE LABOUR.

or . (By FRED M; WHITE.) . • Hi-" r •"'■■ .' :\ .? ' ,l VOyei*tpn cretft a little nearer towards '"'.' Hie neat little- parcel in > the clean p| table napkin, and sniffed as a hungry ; p (log might have done. The muscles of bis mouth quivered —he passed his •"'. tongue over his dry lips. In the language of his bygone youth—and, ' ■ oeavens, away that seemed—he i« Was.up against it. «■' Not for worlds •v 7 would he"nave confessed the fact that £';,tio; food had passed his lips for twenty fii hours. 'He was willing enough to work •?o/and, strong enough withal. But the ,m' whole,world seemed to be at work, por- ..;;•■ spiring' dockers were passing in a constreamijie could hear the roar of '.';•' traffic as the laden lorries passed over the cobble stones in High Street. And yet in all this world of activity they told him 'that. things were slack and •*ii- that most, of- the casual hands' •• there {■ r 4f- were working for a bare wage. fiV, Overton was realising bitterly enough ?f; : thug. Was true. He had made $5 a'sixpence yesterday by holding horses, ;>~ but so far as the docks were concerned >**'■ nothing for the. best part of a week, it- He was., angrily .conscious that the '4} strength in which he jjrided himself hi. was feeling the strain.- But at any rate he was a better man" than the thin reed" Ju? over there sweating amongst the. bales 3?-of wool. .He Was a clean-shaven, re- ' ■/>' spectable looking, man,'and bore the -ic unmistakable'stamp or better times. »-K Overton studied him half curiouslv. He fan saw the little man stagger .towards one ~Y : of the' bales! and drop' oh it, shaking ]W from head ,;tq foot like a leaf; ' His V. head:and hands .jerked as if invisible 1(6 strhigs were'pulling them. ' ~'.'..' i&C " Anything wrong?" Overton asked. <fj. ' " Malaria, the little man gasped. " It's a legacy I brought back with me "j from India. Catches me cruelly at ipe times. ' When I get a bad dose I'm ill eood for nothing tor a week...:. And the or- devil of it is that cursed foreman's got --;.. an eye' on me. ISext/ time ho comes t%> round land finds I haven't shifted this •si little parcel I.'ll get fired. They've got ■fic:HO use for malaria here. Do you happen to be looking for a job yourself?" ...:. : - •'" Well, that's about it," Overton said

lv briefly. ■ /„•.": ,-'-C',v,.' a: ""'Well, .turn in and shift this wool ,?'; for me.- If you get it done in half an '£ hour I'm good for a shilling. If. I get rj s a'-stiff dose of quinine down me I may Z be'better, presently. On the other hand, £< I may be worse. Point is, are you l,i game.?",.' ,: .*; -Overton turned to the work fiercely. »ft He'ripped off his coat and vest and rolled up his shirt sleeves. The shaky little man sitting there, had a stammering word or two of "praise for those magnificent muscles. " My word, you ought, not to be put off a job," he said. "Done a deal of rowing.in.your time, haven't.you?" , "I was ill my collego boat," Overton saidj -absently. He reddened slightly as he spoke: "But that's, another ptory." %. "That's all right,"- the little man. •-■'' : paid. •■'-"'■' 1 was in my college boat, Hiy'-top,- though you wouldn't think it to me." : v He rose to his feet. and. staggered i-'« away- When he returned half an hour *-"■ later the whole of .the work was done, • ri and Overton was sitting on a capstan az wiping his heated forehead. "Here's your money," ■. the little ■>- man;said. : "Oh, you needn't hesi- ** tate to take it.' I've got a bit put '■'■' ajvlayi'j And T should have a bit more ,! v" but for these ctirsed strikes. To-hell ?£ with your- leaders, I say NTo, I've ; <* eot■••no" Federation ticket and I don t '"••want one. And there are thousands *'"" more would tear up theirs i if they ''■ only dared. - * And there's thousands "" who regard Mat Herring as a god and

just do anything he asks when he holds up his little finger. Look at him now talking to those lightermen. Not a day's work has he done for the last ten 'ye'ars\ t " ;Just, "Wig ';his fine, ■clotlies;'; and.; his big watch,Chain and his And' there's."nothing to him iexcept -the'gift -of- the gab.and a certain .infernal cheek that fairly hypnotised 'em. There are mothers and children down our way who would put a knife into him if they ouly dared. ■We've had nine,strikes.in the. last five years,.; and; there's. not. a , docker: here who ■cp'uld,stell" you" .what ■ they. were about if. you gave; him,'..a sovereign. Here, you- haven't taken your shilling yet. ■••■■ It'seems a pity c tbat a workman like you should be doing nothing. You' come along here to-morrow morning %i the same time, ahd I'll see if I can't find a, job, for you." ..', ~.;. Overton walked over to< the nearest publio-houso- and spent-a- few coppers of hisi precious - shilling; in a cheap, substantial" meal.' "in reckless" mood he treated himself to a glass of beer and a penny .packet of cigarettes. The "lose and stuffy little bar was'full of dockers' more or less unemployed, the air reeked with the smell of. sweating humanity. And Overton-did not fail to notice the.suggestion of unrest and; discontent on the faces of those about him.' 1 '- He could' hear "certain threats and grumbling; he ..caught',from time, to time .the revered name of, Mat Herring. There was a commotion in the bar presently, and the big agitator himself came in. He spoke loudly and stridently- -his coarse red face bore a certain. suggestion of strength and power?; Fro'fti' OVerton's.'.point of view he was merely a repulsive bully using, these deluded men = as. a means to an end. Overton itched with a desire to get his hands upon' the man, and ho would have quarrelled, with him at the slightest opportunity. But discretion was .certainly the. better part of valour now. He, had only a small handful ;of coppers. between himself and starvation, and the . docker

who made an enemy of Mat, Herring lived to regret; it and that speedily. The agitator boomed on in his big voicei- Eloquent on imaginary grievances and leaving sullen discontent behind him wW'ever. he went. , There was some fresh trouble in the air, some childish controversy which might at any moment burst • into, a flame that would involve all. the. labour in the East. "You've/got 'im in your own 'ands," Herring roared. " 'Ere, wot are yer talking about? Ain't I speaking?" "There's a gal outside wot wants to speak ter yer, Mister 'Erring," one of the audience said ingratiatingly, " Daresay it's that niece o' mine," the great man said.!.. " If she wants to see me; she :can come' inside." There entered a tall, • slim' figure of a girl clad in rusty black. Over her head and.shoulders was a shawl,of some fleecy material which did not serve to disguise the marvellous colour and texture of her hair or the sensitive beauty of her face. She was no better dressed than most women-round there and yet she stood out \ from them, a thing apart. -Something like a bitter smile trembled on Overton's lips. Ho was wondering by what extraordinary freak of Nature this girl could be Herring's niece. The man turned and brutally demanded what the girl was doing there. . • " It'sthe child," the girl stammered painfully. . Overton noticed "that her voice was as refined as her face. " She's worse. You must send for a doctor." V "No doctors in my house," Herring declared. Blood-sucking set o' murderers I call 'em. And don't, .you come bothering me agin like "this wlien I'm in the middle p' my work-" He raised his arm threateningly and

Overton jumped to his feet.; Just for a moment the joy and pride of the militant dockers was within an ace of receiving , the thrashing which he had so richly deserved for years. But Overten checked himself just in time. Common sense told him that ho would only make matters worse for the girl afterwards. He did not take his seat again, but followed the girl out into the street. "You'll excuse me," he said. 'I have no right to speak to you, of course, but you are in trouble, and i fancy I can help you. I have no money, but am not without influence, though it may sound amusing for-me to say so." "You are very good," the girl said gratefully. "And it is a pleasure to speak to a gentleman again. And anybody can see you are that. In a way we are companions in misfortune.. You see. Mr Herring married my sister. And she;died. It is just as well that she did, and she left a little" girl, whom I promised to look after; That is why I ara down here instead of—but I heed jot go into that. Ada is a poor, weakly little thing. And she will never live to be grown up. And he doesn't care, he has no heart or feeling of affection for anything. All the money he makes he spends on himself. Can't you see how cruelly I am placed ? And what he said just now about the doctor is all lies. He grudges the expense where his own flesh and blood is concerned."

Who on earih was this girl, Overton wondered. # And what was she doing here in this God Forsaken spot? And how on earth had that sister of hers come to give her heart to a coldblooded brute like Herring. But ho was destined to; learn all these things in time. Providentially Herring was away for. a day or two, stirring up strife and discontent at Bristol, and Overton's doctor friend was doing his best for the pale, white fragment of humanity which would never blossom into robust youth. It was only a question of time and Helen Macgregor heard the verdict with tears in her eyes. After the clumsy, methods of manhood Overton consoled her. He had been seeing a good deal of the girl lately, for the little man with the malaria had been as good as his word and Overton was in regular employment now.

"I .wonder if I'm really sorry," Helen said. "It will be a blessed relief when the time- comes, - and then I can get awav from here altogether." "You want'to go nil that badly?" "I am aching to turn my back upon it. It has been two years of penal servitude for me. I offered to take the child llsewhere, but my brother-in-law would not hear of it. If it were not for her I could go back to the fam'v I left to-morrow. When my father died I became governess to some children in the most delightful household in the world. I was more one of the family than a governess. My father had been vicar cf the parish. Wc might havo all been happy if my sister had not met Mr Herring. \ She was always strangely romantic, she took a vivid interest in social questions, and sho made up her mind that Mathew Herring was.a great man. Even to the very last she regarded him as a kind of Napoleon of labour. She was absolutely blind to his coarseness and selfishness. She never saw that he was a dissipated, vulgar, dishonest loafer, whose only qualities were impudence and brag, and she never realised that he would not havo married her at all but for the fact that she had inherited a few hundred pounds from a distant relative. , And he dragged her from the sweetness and refinement of "a country home to this dreadful spot. He had never been accustomed to anything different—any slum-dwelling was good enough for him so long as he could spend his evenings

in some low public-house over his beer and politics. He never even let me know when my sister was dying. I | found her here, and she made me j promise to look after the child. A , sordid little story, is it not? But all I can do now is to wait for the inevitable end. Then I can go back again [• to the sunshine, and the sweetness of ; tho country. But before Igo I should like—you won't think mo vindictive?" " Oh, I know what you would like,'' Overton said. "And I like you all the better for that touch of humanity. It makes mo feol that I am not altogether in contact with a saint. Yqu.i would like to see Herring exposed and , disgraced. You would like to see him made the laughing stock of these poor deluded fools whose proudest ambition I it is "to pay for his beer. Well, 1 will try and manage it for you if 1 can. It has very nearly been an acr complished fact the day I first saw you in that dirty little public-house. There's going to be trouble here. I j feel quite sure that these' men will be ■ all out again within the fortnight, j And, mind you, they don't want to j come. If I could only get them to : listen to me I'd break Herring in a! week. And there's only one way to, do >*•"•" ,' r^'A Helen Macgregor's eyes gleafhed. There was a deep flush on her face, j Sho laid her hand on Overton's arm. '< " Oh, if you only could," she whis- ! pered. "My heart bleeds for the women and children. Mind you, these people have a case. I have lived with them long enough to see that'. And they would win what they are entitled to if they could get rid of the bitter blight that parasites like Herring smother them with. And you could do it for them. They have come to like you. ( And, strangely enough,

one of the reasons is because you are a gentleman." "Do I look like one?" Overton smiled. "Yes, you do," the girl said. "In spite of your docker's dress and the dirt on your hands and face, there is no mistaking it. I knew it the first time we ever met." •" And you asked yourself no questions, Helen?" "Of course I did. lam full of curiosity. And I don't care if you've done something wrong. At any. rate, you have not been used to the horrors of a place like this, and it is fine and noble of you to be getting your own living whilst, I daresay, your friends would be ready to help you. Perhaps you will tell me some day." " Oh, I will that. There's nothing against me. I could walk down Piccadilly with my face to the sunshine. Only I've been a fool. Heavens, what a fool!" He might have told her more, but the whistles began to hoot and bellow, and the . grimy, dingy bees were stirring in the They were very discontented bees just now, 6ullen ond unwilling, and Overton scented the trouble from afar off.. He marked Herring as he strolled about the decks with the air of a dissipated conqueror, he noted tho angry gleam in the foreman's eyes and the clenching of their fists as Herring swaggered past them. But they were utterly powerless, and they knew it. Had the man any sort. ;of feeling Overton asked himself. This sort of thing had been going on for i days now, > and Herring's child lay dying. It was that same evening that Helen came to him, auiet and subdued, with the information that tho little one's sufferings were overi. " She died an hour ago," she explained, "and Mathew Herring grumbled because he would have to find tho money for the funoral. Oh, he is a dreadful creature! Don't think it hard of me, but I can think of nothing but my release from this awi'ul

| place. . . . Within a day, within a an hour '•' | " Oh, I know what you mean. But | don't go alone. Let us go together. I Will you call me presumptuous if I % tell you that there is a dear old aunt 1 . of mine who writes to mo regularly | and who takes the warmest interest in I my welfare. And I have taken the | liberty of telling her all about you. | I told her of your noble heroism and I self : sacrifice. And when you've finishjj ed-hero she wants you to go and stay S with h?r for a time." "I shall be very glad," Helen said simply. "With the exception of the people I used to be with, I have not ■a friend in the world. And they are abroad and will not be back for several weeks. I will wait and go with you, Geoffrey." The last word dropped quite nnconEciously from the girl's lips, and Over- . ton smiled. "Then l"t ifc.be Saturday," he said. "When did you say tho funeral was— J Thursday afternoon? Oh, yes, I shall be quite ready for you by Saturday morning." Overtou went back to his work with his head ■ high in the air and a set determination on his lips. There was going to bo trouble by Saturday, of that ho fflt certain. It was late on Friday afternoon before the smoke gave way to the flame. -. It was one of those silly disputes between capital and labour,, a touch of harshness on 1 one side and a mistaken pride on the | other. A sullen murmur ran through I . the dock, and almost before anyone I knew what had happened a thousand § angry men were standing with their H hands by their sides and the foreman, H almost beside himself with rage, was |j yelling' hoarse commands, lurid with H profanity. Out of the welter ff |] dogged, perspiring humanity came $j Herring, red of face, strident and II overbearing. |j " Down tools, lads," lie cried. jf " Outside every one of you. You've |] got right on your side, and you will m have all the country with you over |j this job. Within a week there won't H be a single workman in a single dock--9 yard in Great Britain." f$ ' Ovprton stepped quietly forward.

"Wait a minute," he said. "You might give the foreman a chance. You might wait to hear what he's got to say, anyhow. Don't tell me that you are going to be influenced by' that drunken, swaggering loafer any more." He pointed contemptuously at Herring. The latter darted forward, his coarse, red face aflame. " Meaning me?" he demanded, hoarsely. , " Meaning yon, you common, dissipated beer-swi'ller. You're a liar and a thief. You've been robbing these poor focls for years. Yes, and I'm in a position to prove it if you like. Regular work and' contentment for , 4 he »lads means starvation for you. Here, come, there must be at least five hundred of you chaps who have known Matthew Herring for years. But I'll wager a sovereign that the oldest hand here cannot recollect when Herring did an honest, days work. Is it a bet?" . ~. I He. hold up the glittering coin between his fingers, and something like a sigh went up from the dockers. There was not one of them there who had not felt that pinch of hunger at least four times during the past 'twelvemonth; and very few of them, who would not have given a year of life loss.of a wife or child, and all owing to the blighting influence of Mathew Herring. There were scores there who would have given a year of life for the comfort and happiness that lay within the gleaming circle of that yellow coin, but none responded. Something like a laugh went up, and more than one man in the crowd reached down for his tools. "Here, drop it "Herring yelled. '"Who:do,you think's speaking to yor p . Why, this chap's a blackleg

r "They're going back' to work," Overton 3aid, quietly. Indeed, they looked very much like doing it. Their eyes were averted 1 from Herring; he would, perhaps, have : been astonished could he have known the deep-rooted hatred that he had inspired in every breast there. In reality it seemed to him that this impudent blackleg' was defying Mm on his own ground. "Well, he would show the dockers what he was made of. Ho stripped off his coat and strode across to where Overton was standing. The latter's heart.leapt with pure joy. He had but little fear of the conflict. And it pleased him to see that Herring had some knowledge of boxing. It was all absolutely irregular, not to say idiotic, for the crowd had gathered round, and, even the strident foreman had forgotten his torrid blasphemy. Herring came on with a headlong rush intent upon carrying all before him. Something seemed to move, something jolted him on the jaw, and, to his own intense surprise, he found himself rolling over in the dust. A deep sar- ! castio cheer rose from the crowd, and ! the red danced before his eyes. .From I that moment there could only be one I possible result of the fight. The burning agitator was blind with rage, he I was, dead out of condition, and Overton | hit him just where and when he pleased. The blood was streaming down ■ his face,, his left eye was half blind. | and still Overton refrained from the ; knock-out blow. He took a particular ! pleasure in punishing this_ ruffian, a certain savage delight which relieved the p*ent-up feelings of many weeks, and Herring needed no knock-out blow. He dropped to his knees at length and blubbered like a child. "Better get back to work, lads," Overton'said quietly. "Nice specimen of a leader you've got, haven't you? Try a man next time. Here, get up and go home."

"'Ere, you're not going P" the i foreman asked. "I can find you a better job if you need it. You're ! the stuff we want." 1 "Oh, I've got a job," Overton smiled. "It's not in the docks. It's down at a place in Sussex." He met Helen next morning. He ' no longer wore his suit of moleskins; he was attired in a neat, well-cut flannel suit and straw hat. Half a dozen women gave him a cheer as he stood by the side of the taxi-cab waiting for Helen.' She, too, was changed almost beyond recognition. Her eyes were moist and her smile unsteady as she put her hand in Overton's. ">Vhere are we going now?" she whispered. "We are. going straight away into Sussex," Overton explained. "Down to the house I told you about. Extravagant? Oh, I don't know. I have not spent much for the last twelve months, and I want to have you all to myself.' "I heard all about yesterday afternoon," Helen said. " Oh, it was splendid, splendid! I loathe violence, but I should Me to have been there? Are you shocked? They whirled along away from the misery and humiliation out into the country and the sunshine Then they came at length to a fair old house nestling amongst the trees, and here on the balcony, looking across a garden so fair and.sweet that the tears rose to Helen's eyes, Overton placed her in a seat and. told, his story. "I have a confession to make," he said. " This h T e x? d , smalJ «tate belongs tome- ■ *or thei last year my aunt lias been looking after it. You will.see her presently and fall {„ i OV6 with her, as everybody does. But I ; have something to tell you first. Now. . do you know that eighteen months ago iVns one of the most selfish, indolent i idlers who ever disgraced a good educa- ■ tionP M v ! a S ei :,r ed t° say that I I had no heart at all,, and when he died,,

somewhere about a year ago, ho left a strango will. He said I was young and strong enough for anything, and that for a whole'twelve .months. I. must go away with nothing in my pockets and earn my own living., I was not to borrow a penny from anyone, and if 1 failed by a single day, everything was to go to a distant relation. My word, this last year has been a revelation to me! It took the conceit out of me to find how useless I was. 1 had chances and lost them one after another; | I knew what it was to be downright hungry. I've slept on the Embankment, and the day I first went to the docks I hadn't tasted food for twenty hours. Well, I got a job there, and I was only too glad to stick to it, and I did stick to it till the year was up, and nearly six weeks more, and I am a man at last." "It was very fine," Helen cried. "But why d ; d you go on .after the year was up?" "Ycu don't know that?" Can you look me in the face and tell me you cannot guess? Do you think I could part with you now, you who came like a crown to my salvation. I brought you here to remain always after we are married, and my aunt is looking forward to welcoming you as a daughter. She will bo here at any moment now. You won't disappoint her, Helen?" The girl held out her hand and smiled at Overton through her happy tears. " Oh," she whispered, '• Oh, what a world it is!"