THE MILL STRIKE.

Taranaki Daily News, Volume L, Issue 61, 23 November 1907, Page 3

THE MILL STRIKE.

''lStell you there will be trouble, and plenty of it, too," protested Clay. "Don't 1 know how the men feel in this matter? Am 1 not closely associated with them every day? The money they receive now barely supports them. Do you think they will stand a reduction in wages passively? It is all very well to say, 'Half a loaf!' They will go without the loaf, and fight for principle," A pinchcd-looking director from a corner piped up:

"Docs the foreman want us to run the works for nothing?" "I suppose it is useless to argue on the subject; only, mark my words, if you reduce wages now, you'll be sorry for it. The country is aflame on this question, and if you cannot see it for yourselves. I'm helpless to aid you." When John Clay sat down, he knew that the directors would cut wages, notwithstanding his protest, and cut thev did.

The next day told the story. Xotices were posted in the various departments of the big factory. The workmen met here and there in liitle groups, and discussed the situation. There was no great outburst of indignation, except here and there among a few "hot heads." All wore determined faces, and worked until the time came for the new rates of pay to take effect—and then they stopped. It was a surprise to the board of directors. The chairman had himself stated only (he day before, at the club, that the new scale of wages would be accepted, and that the employees had readily I conceded that it was better to accept them and go to work than be idle. The morning sun shone beautifully clear and bright. Birds twittered and sang among the trees and on the. housetops. All else seemed as quiet as a little country town. No whistle sounded; no smoke issued from the tall chimneys. The large- gales were closed, simply because no one had opened them. F.von the watchman had gone. Clay, the foreman, was usually early at work, and this morning was nn exception. Mechanically, he unlocked the main gales and threw them back until Ihey were wide open, yawning in the morning air. All was silent. The telephone message sent by nini io

the managing director was a surprise to that individual, and in a hurried meeting of the directors it was decided to

close the factory for a month. But ere month and then another passed, and still each side was firm. At first. il,c suffering among the men was not perceptible. At the end of the third w -ek it became apparent. The needy clamoured for bread for their hungry liit'c ones at home. A few obtained v/orlelsewhere; but the great majority prcj ferred Io weather the storm at home. At the end of two months the suffcrI ing became acute amoDg many scores of

families, and the feeling among the idle men and women, bitter enough before, grew to hatred.

Murmurings Ijccamc louder, and then I came the general cry for aid. "Give us bread!" they ask :,1. "We'll give you work," was mc chilling response from the management. "Yes," answered one of !:<e i;,eu, "work for wages that don't yav for oui living. Why should we toil Hint you may live in plenty and wc in poverty? Beware!" He shook his brawny list in the manager's face. "Bewar.-! JVe won't stand this .much 'ongcr!" "No threats," answered the manager. "Cease blustering, and go to work - that's your only remedy. I don't wai.t any trouble, my men," he continued. "I want to see that machinery move as much as you do"—and he pointed to the huge buildings about them—"but you must start at the reduced wages for we cannot afford to continue on the old scale, when trade is so slaik."

A man pushed forward with haggard face, and a long, bony forefinger pointed before the manager's eyes. "You'll see that machinery irove! Y'cs those whcels'll go round to ver heart's content! Give us honest pay'for honest work!" he shouted, as the manager turned and entered his office. Time went on, and Clav on many occasions discerned the undercurrent of hatred growing stronger each day; the outbreak, he feared, could be deferred but a short time He suggested that a small force of watchmen be placed m the mill, day and night, and at the directors meeting he was openly smiled at for his fears. "What could tb.« men do if thev should try?" asked one.

"Nothing—absolutely nothing," ans wered another.

And the directors were evidently all of one mind.

The world outside was watching events. If the men won, then all hope of the manufacturers was gone. If they lost—well, it was expected they would, and after awhile they would settle down to the new situation, a peg or two lower in life, it is true. But the world gets used to seeing all classes of men drop lower, little bv little.

In the long run there is but one outcome from a struggle like this. For the sake of their starving families the men were obliged to yield. Thev had sought Clay's intercession; but he"could do nothing for them; so, after a weary struggle, they acknowledged themselves beaten.

"Iu a week"—it was heralded like wildfire throughout the community—the mills would start up." One evening-, as the manager, escorted by Clay, was about to step into his carriage, his daughter leaned forwardfrom the cushions and said : "Mr. Clay, I have something important to state !o you and papa. Won't yon dine with us to-morrow night?" Clay assented. The dinner was a pleasant affair, and Clay and the manager settled back to listen to Miss Brayton s plan. She had mapped it all out, and her only regret was that she had deterred action until now. "I want your help to alleviate the sufferings of the workmen's families," she began. "Both of vou will " . A peal of the bell, and a servant came into the room.

"There is a man at the door to see you, sir. It s very .important, sir. He is waiting, sir."

I m sorry, Edith," hurriedly remarked the manager, on his return from the hall "but 1 am wanted immediately. We U talk of your plan later on. Goodnight, Mr Clay." And he was gone. "What could have hurried papa away, I wonder?" said Miss Brarton. "I have fears, sometimes, that harm will come to him. He is so—well, so firm." She looked at Clay as though for some help from him in her description. "Don't you think so?" "Yes. he is very firm."

Something in the tone of his voice caused, her to lean slightly towards him and ask:

"You don't like anything that papa does, do you?"

"No; but I might say that of anyone," answered Clay, "Would you say that of—well, of me, for instance?"

Just as Clay was about to speak the servant again hurriedly entered. "A man at the door, sir. Must see you at once, he says." When Clay returned, having been absent scarcely a moment, Miss Brayton ran to him quickly, exclaiming: "There is trouble? Tell me; don't be afraid,"

Clay's face was hard and set as he answered, "Yes," but his tone toid her volumes.

"One moment, please—l want to go with .you." "No, no! It will be. no place for a woman." And he was gone, but not before she had grasped that big, stronghand in hers just an instant.

Then she ran for a servant and ordered a carriage to be got ready at once, and ere the vehicle was at the door she was equipped for the drive, "To the works as fast as you can get there," she ordered, and the driver's whip snapped like a pistol shot in the still night air and the race began. It was something over five miles to the works, and Clay had a good start; but when she reached the gates his panting steed told her she had followed close.

She sprang from the carriage and entered the yard. The night was dark, and here and there little jets of flame and. sputters of sparks arising from the roofs of the various buildings, She hastened on, and mcctinir a dark figure slouching past, asked him;

''live you seen Mr Clav?" "l'st went in that door," was the muffled reply.

she reached the doorway, and from the lights within saw it was the engineroom. The flames were getting brighter and hotter in this building, and from the top ol a long flight of steps leading to the floor below she saw the gigantic wheel moving faster.and faster, and the nQise4t-wa3e, with that of the crackling flames, grew louder and louder. Slouching, masked forms were moving to and fro in the flickering light below, anc| as she watched them her eye fell upon one spot in the room and her heart seemed to cease beating.

"Heaven be merciful!" she prayed. Could she believe her eyes? .Seated, bound hand and foot, in a chair, in front of and almost beneath the thunderous and mighty wheel, was her father, the manager of the works, his ashen face and staving eyes showing that he realised the horror of his position, while his hair was fanned, as by the wind, by the ever-increasing motion of the monster before him,

"1 fancy he'll see the machinery move fast 'nough ter suit him now!" exclaimed someone close beside her.

A man, huge and burly, went bounding down the steps. The flames were running here and there. The noise increased in volume. Suddenly there was a gurgling sound below. A man sprang into the room, only to be instantly seized by two powerful antagonists. For a

moment they all seemed merged into a moving, rolling, mass, and someone op the lower stairs shouted, "Knock off the jfov-ner, Bill!" The next instant the order had been obeyed, and the speed of the great wheel grew rapidly more and more fearful in its revolutions. The mass of black struggling below separated as by a hidden force. One man dropped limp and lifeless to the floor, while another was lifted clear off his feet, and she felt rather than heard the thud as he struck the solid brick wall and then fell, like his comrade, a heap of black. Then the victor, whom she recognised as Clay, dashed forward toward the helpless victim bound beneath the now snapping and straining monstc - heel. A fiend in black—how densely tilack they all looked—snatched a heavy missile, and, raining it high for a terrific blow, started for the man in the chair. He was far in advance of Clay, but even as he swung his weapon, she sa,w something glisten in Clay's right hand; then a vivid flash, and the huge assailant dropped like a log. The next instant Clay had reached his goal, and chair and victim were snatched aside, while a keen knife severed the tensely-drawn ropes. As Clay started for the stairs, with the

unconscious manager upon his shoulders there was a terrific crash. The immense wheel had burst. It seemed to the girl that heaven and earth were rent asunder

Mechanically she stepped out of the doorway into the .light, now aglow with ten thousand lurid darts, as the red demon ran and pumped and danced hither and thither, throughout the vast'works.

Then, and not until then, did she realise that it was not a dream, but all true, horribly true. Turning sick and faint, she felt strong arms about her, anil knew no more. * * # # #

The strike was over. The great factory, once a magnificent, symmetrical pile of brick and stone, was a mass of twisted and blackened timbers, and heaps of brick and clinging mortar.

The owners lost heavily, some their all, through the almost endless litigation following so closely on the heels of the first misfortune.

In a neighbouring prison languishes a dozen men, sentenced for a long term of years for their violent acts, while their helpless families arc left to struggle for subsistence as best thev may. In a side street, in a humble cottage, lives ant old, broken-down man, the once proud manager of the works. YV'ith him is his daughter, a happy girl no more, but a_ quiet, gentle-faced woman, I whose aim in life is to help the unfori tunates by whom she is surrounded,

Clay, in a distant town, is struggling to retrieve his losses, for, although he had endeavoured to save both sides from ruin, he went under with the rest. Want, blighted hopes, lifelong poverty where there was modest comfort — these were the effects of the strike. Its lesson, he who runs may read. Will it ever end, this struggle between two powerful adversaries? Perhaps. The very earth, we are told, will some day cease to exist.