The Baby Union of Patea

Maoriland Worker, Volume I, Issue 7, 20 March 1911, Page 16

The Baby Union of Patea

CBy G. G. Faeland.) Patea is an obscure, cheese, meat, and butter town in Taraiiaki. Every one knows as much about his neighbour's business as 'himself, and better ! than they know their own. How many children he has, what he owns and owes, his prospects, trials and troubles;, fears and joys are like an open book. In fact, they" are so used to the gossip of the village lamplighter, that the inhabitants deem news from outside sources not of any interest. Hence the local paper dispenses with the 1 ress Asocsiation and confines itself entirely to clippings from meat wrappers dropped by occasional swaggers. lbe pastoral serenity of this scene was severely disturbed by a rumour that the Wat-ersiders had entered into an unholy compact. The parish pump politicians shook their heads, the oldest inhabitant ate his late supper with severe misgivings as to what xne future would brino- forth. The local publichouse was thronged with anxious enquirers when it became known tnat vouii"- Buny had joined the revolutionaries" and was .becoming as vigorous as his mates in ins denunciation ox the capitalists. The country for miles around seemed afflicted, a, deep gloom as of an impending catastrophe overshadowed the place, talk of emigration Avas rife, the lamplighter and sanitary inspector, who had vied with each otiier for years in the purveying or news —joined forces in tiie face of this latest calamity. Talk of ceasing work, of Holding up ships of "W ellingtoii police, of cruisers, dynamite, spread like wildfire through the country side. VV'iiat really nad happened ? Nothing but the forming of an innocent little Arbitration U moil on the wharf to raise the wages and set conditions. Never 111 the memory of the oldest inhabitant iiacL such a conspiracy been heard of. An attempt to force the best friend of the town into paying extortionate rates. Surely tiie of Patea would not allow sucli proceedings. As the tardy negotiations proceeded, interest became quickened. Tiie secretary of this dreadful secret society was viewed with much awe as he made his unreasonable demands on the maiii£tay.s of the village, the local shipping agents. The town wondered not when tiie news was iianded out that these gentlemen had refused to be coerced into giving away the very life-blood of their shareholders. But history was in tiie making—the low growl of discontent had broken out into open revolt, and the modern Gorgonzola was at last involved in a strike. The parish policeman - cum - factory inspector - dog- tax collector - detective - cum - clerk of awards, labour agent, etc., met his better half in a distracted state, seeking his baton amongst a heap of dusty jam bottles and ancient kettles virion had been stowed -away under the seven yearly proverb. Tthe village schoolmaster was at his wits-end for fear that this dread scourge would spread to his dormitory and afreet the innocent rising generation. The children of the strikers, hitherto rational little gamins enough, were looked on by their playmates as quereos, and shunned more in awe than in fear, hearing their elders speak of a. strike as a dreadful thing. Still the strike kept on, and the ships came In 4 and the cheese came down, and the wool and the meat and the sailors and the scatos and their assistants all conduced to make the dear old

town of Patea assume its old gait again. The people ceased to fear and worry and wonder ; they smiled and joked and twitted the two lone pickets on the waterside as they watched disconsolately the strike - breakers doing their work. The agent smiled as he passed them, thinking to his own 1 smug self of the futility of the baby arm of the infant union of Patea striking at the great good giant that fed and clothed it. But the smile passed; the agent became more serious; rumours came floating in of reinforcements from Wellington, of a Federation and a fight—not with a baby but with men, big rough men of the waterside who could stop ships in reality, and stay dividends for sure. Thii agent came to Wellington, and the secretary and the Federation, there was talk and talk and words, no end of words and a final rebuff; not too sure, but just to feel the air. "Let the whole thing take its course," said t/he agent. "Just so," said the Baby Unioni "Just so," said the Federation ! The gauntlet down, all serious came the delegates and the secretaries AVihen the "Mana" with a full scab load dropped her dirty hulk alongside the Glasgow Wharf, Wellington. "To load or not to load, that's the question?" and the answer came from the sturdy knights of the barrow as they shook their heads and drew back as from a pestilence, "She lay a stricken hulk Upon the shimmering brine." The day passed quietly, and the agent passed quietly, and the seamen quietly passed in theis checks at the shipping office. "And she lay a, vacant hulk Upon the shimmering brine." No smiles, no twitting, only a ship and a load of scab cargo and a waiting Home trader and a few wharf labourers taking a holiday ; not an unusual thing for them. All serious came the agent, 'his bluff all gene, his smug face long drawn as he faced the inevitable and came to think that- there was such a thing as unionism and solidarity, such a place as Wellington, such a thing as Wellington Wharf Labourers' Union; more serious considerations than George Smith and his plucky little Baby Union, Patea.