Arthur let down the oblong varnished cover and seated himself with his head in his palms and elbows on his knees. He felt, suddenly, an extra pang of anxiety and stress. Overpowered by a desire for consolation, he shut his eyes tight. With that fervour which often took him, dear God, he prayed, make the strike end to-day, make all the men go back to work for my father, make them see their mistake, dear God, you know, dear God, how good my father is, I love him, dear God, and I love You too, make the men do right like he does and don’t let them strike any more, and let me hurry up and be with my father in the Neptune quick for Jesus’ sake, amen.
FOUR
Richard Barras returned at five o’clock to find Armstrong and Hudspeth were waiting for him. He arrived, with cold unhurried precision, frowning slightly, bringing the stem pulse of his personality into the house, to find them sitting on two hall chairs, side by side, staring at the floor in silence. Aunt Carrie in a flutter of uncertainty had put them there. George Armstrong was, of course, the viewer of the Neptune and would have gone ordinarily to the smoking-room. But Hudspeth was only the underviewer who had once been merely the overman, and he had, moreover, been with the safety-men, had come straight out the pit with dirty boots, wet knickerbockers, stick and leather cap complete. Impossible to admit him to sully Richard’s room. Altogether a difficult situation for Aunt Carrie; she had compromised by leaving them in the vestibule.
At the sight of the two men Richard’s expression did not change. He had expected them. But through the cold weight of his inflexibility a faint gleam momentarily irradiated his eye, then was instantly suppressed. Armstrong and Hudspeth rose. A short silence.
“Well?” Richard asked.
Armstrong nodded emotionally.
“It’s done with, thank God.”
Richard received the news without a sign, as though the faint break in Armstrong’s voice was repugnant to him. He remained erect, veiled within himself, apart. At length he stirred, made a gesture with his hand and led the way into the dining-room. He went to the sideboard, an enormous oak piece of Dutch origin carved in baroque taste with the heads of smiling children, and poured whisky into two glasses, then he pulled the bell, ordered tea upon a tray for himself. Ann brought it immediately.
The three men drank standing — Hudspeth put his tot away neat at one stolid swallow, Armstrong took his with a lot of soda in quick, nervous gulps. He was a nervous man, George Armstrong, a man who seemed always to live upon his nerves. He worried a great deal, was upset by trifles, lost his temper easily with the men but got through a vast amount of work by the sheer nervous intensity of his application. A medium-sized man going bald on the top, with rather a drawn face and pouches under his eyes, he was, in spite of his irritability, quite popular in the town. He had a good baritone voice and sang at the Masonic concerts. He was married, with five children, felt his responsibilities acutely and was, in his soul, desperately afraid of losing his job. Now he excused his nervous hand with his short deprecatory laugh.
“Before God I’m not sorry it’s over, Mr. Barras, the whole stupid business. It’s been a pretty rough time for all of us. I’d rather work a year double shift than go through these three months again.”
Barras ignored all this. He said:
“How did it end?”
“They had a meeting at the Institute. Fenwick spoke but they wouldn’t listen to him. Next Gowlan, you know Charley Gowlan, the checkweigher, he got up and said there was nothing for it but to start. Then Heddon let loose on them. He’d come in special from Tynecastle. He didn’t mince his meat. Not on your life, Mr. Barras. Told them they’d no right to have come out without Union support. Said the Federation disowned the whole business. Called them a pack of confounded fools, only saving your presence, Mr. Barras, he used a different word for trying to run things on their own. Then they voted. Eight hundred odd in favour of starting. Seven against.”
There was a pause.
“And what then?” Barras said.
“They came up to the office, a crowd of them — Heddon, Gowlan, Ogle, Howe and Dinning, and pretty small they looked, I can tell you. They asked for you. But I told them what you’d said, that you’d see none of them till they’d started in again. So Gowlan made a speech, he’s not a bad sort, for all he’s a boozer. Said they were beat and knew it. Heddon came on then with the usual Union claptrap, made a song and dance about taking the case to Harry Nugent in Parliament, but that was just to save his own face. To cut it short, they’re whacked, they’ve asked to start in on the fore shift to-morrow. I said we’d see you, sir, and let them know your answer by six.”
Richard finished his tea.
“So they want to start. I see,” he said. He appeared to regard the situation as interesting, and to review it without emotion. Three months ago he had secured the Parsons contract for coking coal. These contracts were precious, they were rare and very hard to get. With the contract in his pocket he had begun operations, driving into the Scupper Flats district of the Paradise and starting to strip the Dyke of its special coking coal, the only coking coal remaining in the Neptune.
Then the men had walked out on him, in spite of him, in spite of their Union. The contract was not in his pocket now, it was in the fire. He had forfeited the contract. He had lost twenty thousand pounds.
The pale smile fixed upon his lips seemed to say, interesting, upon my soul!
Armstrong said:
“Shall I post the notices then, Mr. Barras?”
Richard compressed his lips, let his eye dwell upon the obsequious Armstrong with sudden distaste.
“Yes,” he said coldly. “Let them start in to-morrow.”
Armstrong sighed with relief, he moved instinctively towards the door. But Hudspeth, whose obtuse mind dealt only with the obvious, stood twisting his cap in his hands.
“What about Fenwick?” he asked. “Has he to be started?”
Barras said:
“That remains with Fenwick.”
“And the other pump?” went on Hudspeth laboriously. He was a big dull-looking fellow with a long upper lip and a heavy, sallow face.
Richard moved restively.
“What other pump?”
“The hogger-pump you spoke about three months back, the day the lads came out. It ud take a lot of that water out Scupper Flats. Take it quicker, I mean, leave less muck for to stand in…”
Cold as ice, Richard said:
“You are sadly mistaken if you think I am proceeding in Scupper Flats. That coking coal must await another contract.”
“Whatever you say, sir.” Hudspeth’s earthy face coloured deeply.
“That’s all, then,” Barras said in his clear, reasonable voice. “You might let it be known that I’m glad for the men’s sakes they’re going back. All that unnecessary hardship in the town has been abominable.”
“I’ll certainly do that, Mr. Barras,” agreed Armstrong.
Barras was silent; and as there appeared nothing more to be said Armstrong and Hudspeth left the house.
For a moment Barras remained with his back to the fire, thinking; then he locked away the whisky in the sideboard, picked up two lumps of sugar which had fallen on the tray and methodically replaced them in the sugar basin. It hurt him to see untidiness, to think even of a lump of sugar being wasted. At the Law nothing must be wasted, he could not stand it. Especially in small ways this was manifest. Matches he habitually stinted. He would use a pencil to its last bare inch. Lights must be turned out regularly, soap ends pressed into the new cake, hot water husbanded, even the fire banked with a modicum of dross. The sound of breaking china drove the blood to his head. Aunt Carrie’s chief virtue, in his eyes, was the rigour of her housekeeping.