XV. A STRIKE
"No cars a-runnin'! What's up?" exclaimed Jimmy, the next morning, ashe and Theodore passed down Tremont street.
"There's a strike on. Didn't you hear 'bout it yesterday?" repliedTheo.
"No. My! But there'll be a time if all the cars stop."
"A pretty bad time--'specially for the folks that live outside thecity," Theodore answered, soberly.
When, after taking his breakfast at the stand, he went back throughTremont street, groups of men and boys were standing about in everycorner, and everywhere the strike was the one topic of conversation.There were groups of motormen and conductors here and there, somelooking grave and anxious, and some careless and indifferent.
As the morning advanced the throngs in the streets increased. Belatedbusiness men hurried along, and clerks and saleswomen with flushedfaces and anxious eyes, tried impatiently to force their way throughthe crowds to get to their places of business.
Theodore noticed the large number of rough-looking men and boys on thestreets, and that most of them seemed full of suppressed excitement.Now and then as he passed some of these, he caught a low-spokenthreat, or an exultant prophecy of lively times to come. It all madehim vaguely uneasy, and he had to force himself to go about his workinstead of lingering outside to see what would happen.
In one office, while he was busy over the brasses, three gentlemenwere discussing the situation, and the boy, as he rubbed and polished,listened intently to what was said.
"What do the fellows want? What's their grievance, anyhow?" inquiredone man, impatiently, as he flicked the ashes from his cigar.
"Shorter hours and better pay," replied a second.
"Of course. That's what strikers always want," put in a third. "Theyseem to think they're the only ones to be considered."
"Well, I must confess that I rather sympathise with the men thistime," said the second speaker. "I hold that they ought to haveshorter hours."
"There are plenty that will be glad enough to take their places,though."
"I suppose so, but all the same I maintain that these companies thatare amply able to treat their men better, ought to do so. I believe infair play. It pays best in the end to say nothing of the right andwrong of it."
"Think the company will give in?" questioned one.
"Guess not. I hear that the superintendent has telegraphed to New Yorkand Chicago for men."
"There'll be trouble if they come!" exclaimed the first speaker.
"I believe," said another man, joining the group, "I believe thatSanders is responsible for all this trouble--or the most of it,anyhow. He's a disagreeable, overbearing fellow who--even when hegrants a favor, which is seldom enough--does it in a mean,exasperating fashion that takes all the pleasure out of it. I had somedealings with him once, and I never want anything more to do withhim. If he'd been half-way decent to the men there would never havebeen any strike, in my opinion."
Sanders was the superintendent of the road where the trouble was.
"You're right about Sanders," said another. "I always have wonderedhow he could keep his position. These strikes though, never seem to meto do any real good to the cause of the strikers, and a great many ofthe men realise that too, but these walking delegate fellows get'round 'em and persuade 'em that a strike is going to end all theirtroubles--and so it goes. I saw that little sneak--Tom Steel--buttonholingthe motormen, and cramming them with his lies, as I came along justnow. There's always mischief where Tom Steel is."
By this time Theodore had finished his work, and he left the office,his head full of strikes, superintendents, and walking delegates, andwherever he went that day, the strike was the only subject discussed.
He stopped work earlier than usual, finding himself infected with theprevailing unrest and excitement. He found the sidewalks of theprincipal business streets thronged with men, women and boys, allpressing in one direction.
"Come along, Tode!" cried a shrill voice at his elbow, and he turnedto find Jimmy Hunt, his round face all alight with anticipation ofexciting episodes to follow. Jimmy began talking rapidly.
"They've been smashin' cars, Tode, an' haulin' off the motormen an'conductors that want to keep on workin'. There's three cars allsmashed up near the sheds, an' the strikers say they'll wreck everyone that's run out to-day."
"It's a shame!" declared Theo, indignantly; yet boy-like, if there wasto be a mob fight, he wanted to be on hand and see it all, and he tookcare not to let Jimmy get far ahead of him.
As they went on, the crowd continually increased until it became sodense that the boys had to worm their way through it inch by inch.They pressed on, however, and when further progress was impossible,they found standing room on the very front close to the car-track.
It had been a noisy, blustering crowd as it surged along the street,but now that it had come to a standstill, a sudden breathless silencefell upon it, and all eyes turned in one direction, gazing eagerly,intently up the track. Suddenly, a low, hoarse cry broke from ahundred throats.
"It's comin'! It's comin'!" and far up the street a car appeared.
The faces of the men grew more hard and determined. Those of thewomen became pale and terrified. The two boys peered eagerly forward,their hearts beating quickly, with dread mingled with a sort of wildexcitement.
"Look, Theo--Look!" whispered Jimmy, pointing to some men who werehastily digging up cobble-stones from the street. "There's Carrots,too," he added.
"Wonder who that little chap is--the one that seems to have so much tosay to the car men," Theo replied, thoughtfully.
"That's Tom Steel. You've heard of him, hain't ye?" A man at Theo'selbow was speaking. "He's responsible for this strike, I think, an' Ihope he'll get his pay for it too," he added, grimly.
Theodore glanced up into the grave face of the speaker and recognisedhim as a motorman. Evidently, he was more bitter against the strikersthan against the company.
The car was now close at hand, and all at once as with a singleimpulse, there was a surging forward, and the crowd closed in blockingthe track with a solid mass of human beings. The motorman set histeeth hard, and rang the gong loudly, insistently. The conductorhastened through the car and stood beside him. The only passenger wasa policeman, who stood on the rear platform calmly gazing at the seaof angry, excited faces on either side.
"This car's got to stop!" shouted a big, brawny fellow, springing ontothe step and giving the motorman a threatening glance.
"This car ain't a-goin' to stop!" retorted the motorman, grimly, as hereleased the brake.
"We'll see about that," and with the words the big fellow seized theman's arms and wrenched his hand off the lever.
The conductor sprang to the assistance of his comrade while thepoliceman ran forward and pushed the man roughly off the car.
In the same instant, Theo saw Carrots snatch a box from a bootblacknear him and with a wild yell of defiance, hurl it through one of thecar windows. The shrill, taunting cry of the boy, mingled with thecrash of the breaking glass, and the sight of the policeman's upraisedclub, aroused the mob to sudden fury. At once there arose a wildhubbub of shouts, yells and cries, followed by a shower ofcobble-stones, and a fierce rush upon the three men on the car, and intwo minutes the car was a shattered wreck; the motorman and conductorwere being hustled through the crowd with threats and warnings, whilethe policeman's club had been wrenched from his grasp. He drew hispistol, but with a howl of fury it was knocked from his hand, and thenext moment he lay senseless upon the ground, felled by a savage blowfrom his own club.
The taste of conflict, the sight of blood, had roused to a fierceflame the smouldering spirit of lawlessness and insurrection in themob. A savage rage seemed to have taken possession of the men as, withfrantic haste and mad delight, they tore up cobble-stones and built ahuge barricade across the track. When it was completed, Carrots dartedup on top of it and waved a red handkerchief above his head. A hoarseroar of approval broke from the mob, but Steel sternly ordered the boydown and
hissed in his ear,
"You fool! You might have spoiled everything by that! Don't ye showthat again till I give the signal--d'ye hear?"
Carrots nodded with an evil gleam in his narrow eyes, that made Theoshiver.
"Come on, now. We've done enough for once," Steel added, and keepinghis hand on the arm of the boy the two disappeared in the throng thatwas slowly melting away.
Then, with a long breath, Jimmy turned to Theodore.
"My!" he exclaimed, in a tone of shuddering satisfaction. "It's awful,ain't it, Theo! S'pose he's dead?" He gazed with half fearful interesttoward the policeman who had been clubbed and about whom a group hadgathered.
"Looks like it. There comes some more p'lice. They'll take care ofhim. Come on, Jimmy, le's go home."
"Oh, no, Theo, don't go home, yet. Le's go an' see what's goin' onover there," and Jimmy turned into a cross street through which thegreater portion of the crowd was pressing.
"There's something the matter over at the depot," said Theodore, as hefollowed, half willingly and half reluctantly, in Jimmy's eagerfootsteps.
About the depot there was usually a constant stream of cars coming andgoing, but to-day the streets looked bare and deserted.
When the boys reached the square only two cars were in sight and thesetwo were approaching, one behind the other, on the same track. As theydrew near, they were seen to contain each six or eight policemen,fully armed and with stern, resolute faces. The mob again howled andhooted at the motormen and conductors, and showered them with dirt andsmall stones, but made no attempt to stop the cars.
No cars were run after dark that evening, and the next day they wererun only at intervals of an hour and each one carried a heavily armedguard. The strikers and their lawless sympathisers continued to throngthe streets and to threaten all car-men who remained on duty. Now andthen a car window was broken or an obstruction placed on the tracks,but there was no serious outbreak, and it was rumoured that acompromise between the company and the strikers was underconsideration and that the trouble would soon be at an end.
So a week slipped away. One morning Theodore was on his way from oneoffice to another when he heard the sound of drum and fife and saw abody of the strikers marching up Washington street. Every boy withinsight or hearing at once turned in after the procession, and Theodorefollowed with the rest.
It was about ten o'clock in the morning and the streets were full ofshoppers, many of them ladies who had been afraid to venture outduring the past week.
As if they had risen out of the ground, scores of rough-looking menand street boys began to push and jostle the shoppers on the narrowsidewalks until many of the frightened women took refuge in thestores, and the shopkeepers, fearful of what might follow, beganhastily putting up their shutters and making ready to close theirstores, if necessary. These signs of apprehension gave great delightto the rougher element in the streets, and they yelled and hooteduproariously at the cautious shopkeepers, but they did notstop. Steadily, swiftly they followed that body of men marching withdark, determined faces to the sound of the fife and the drum.
"Where are they going?" Theo asked of a man at his side and the replywas,
"To the car-house, I reckon. They're ripe for mischief now."
"What's stirred 'em up again--anything new?" the boy questioned.
"Many of the strikers have been discharged and new men broughton--five hundred of them--from New York and Chicago. I'm afraid wehaven't seen the worst of the troubles yet."
"Look! Look!" cried a boy, close beside Theodore, and the latterlooking ahead, saw a squad of mounted officers coming through a crossstreet. Without stopping to parley they charged into the marchingstrikers and dispersed them, silencing the fife and drum, and when thefurious mob of followers and sympathisers yelled threats and defianceat the officers, the latter charged into the mob riding up to thepavement and forcing the people back into the stores and dwellingsbehind them.
This was as fuel to the fire of anger and insurrection. Deep and direthreats passed from lip to lip, and evil purpose hardened into grimdetermination as the mob slowly surged in the direction of thecar-house, after the officers had passed on. The throng was far morequiet now, and far more dangerous. Again and again, Theodore caughtglimpses of Tom Steel's insignificant face, and like a long, darkshadow, Carrots followed ever at his heels.
No cars were running now, but the boy heard low-spoken references tonew men and "scabs," and "the will of the people," as, almost withouteffort of his own, he was borne onward with the throng.
At a little distance from the car-house the strikers again drewtogether and stood mostly in gloomy silence, their eyes ever turningtoward the closed doors of the great building before them. The vastcrowd waited, too, in a silence that seemed to throb and pulse withintense and bitter feeling. The strikers had stopped in the middle ofthe street, and around them on every side, except toward thecar-house, the crowd pressed and surged like a vast human sea. Therewere not many women in the number gathered there, and the few who werethere were of the lowest sort, but men and boys--largely tramps,roughs and street boys--were there in countless numbers, mingled withnot a few of the better class.
Slowly the minutes passed, until an hour had gone by, and it began tobe whispered about that the company dared not run any cars. Still themen waited, and the crowd waited too. But at last some grew weary ofinaction, and when Steel proposed that they spend the time barricadingthe tracks, his suggestion met with a quick response.
From a neighbouring street the men brought Belgian blocks and piledthem on the track. They pulled down tree boxes and broke off branchesof trees, and when an ice wagon came along they took possession of thehuge blocks of ice and capped their barricade with these.
Suddenly the doors of the car-house were thrown open, and a car rolledslowly out.
There was an instant of breathless silence, followed by a roar likethat of a thousand savage beasts, as the strikers saw that new menwere running the car, and that it carried half a score of policemen,armed to the teeth.
As it approached the barricade some of the officers sprang off andbegan to throw down the obstructions, the others standing ready tofire upon the mob if necessary. The crowd showered bitter words andtaunts upon the officers, but did not venture to molest them. Themotorman stood with his hand on the lever, ready to start the car themoment the track should be clear. Carrots, with a pack of street Arabsat his heels, jeered at the new motorman, climbing up on the car andtaunting him, until, at last, his patience was exhausted, and hesuddenly lifted his foot and kicked one of the boys off the car. Theboy fell heavily to the ground, and instantly the shrill voice ofCarrots was uplifted, crying frantically,
"He's killed Billy Green! He's killed Billy Green! Pitch in to him,boys! Pitch into him!"
Billy Green was already picking himself up, with no worse injury thana cut in his cheek, but the mob took up the cry, and,
"Pitch into him! Pitch into him! Kill him! Kill him!" was shouted byhundreds of savage voices as the crowd pressed about the car. Theytried to drag the motorman off, in spite of the guards, they smashedthe car windows, they tore out the cushions, they beat the policemen,and wrenched their clubs out of their hands. Finally several of theofficers drew their pistols and fired into the air.
At this the crowd fell back for a second, and the turmoil of shoutsand cries that had been deafening a moment before, died away in suddensilence--a threatening, dangerous silence as of a wild beast about tospring.
Into this instant of silence broke a new cry from the outskirts of thecrowd.
"It's the mayor. Make way for the mayor!"
"No, it's the bishop. Make way for the bishop! Stand back! Standback!"
At this cry, Theodore turned like a flash and gazed in the directionin which all eyes were turning. There was no mistake. The bishop wassurely one of the occupants of a carriage that was slowly forcing itsway through the throng.
With his heart beating with a wild joy; his eyes glowing; the colourcoming and g
oing in his cheeks, Theodore stood still until thecarriage stopped. Then sliding through the smallest spaces, dartingbetween feet, this way and that, the boy managed somehow to reach theside of the carriage, where he stood with his hand on one of thewheels, his eager, burning gaze fastened on the face he loved sowell. Instinctively he pulled off his cap, but he made no attempt toattract the attention of the bishop. He uttered no word or sound. Heonly stood with all his loving heart in his eyes, and looked.
The bishop's expression was very grave, as he gazed over that vast seaof faces. He turned to speak to the gentleman who sat beside him, andas he did so, his eyes fell on Theodore's eloquent upturnedcountenance. A quick, bright smile flashed across his face, andreaching down, he laid his hand for a moment gently upon the boy'sbared head.
Before he could speak the silence was again broken by a cry from manylips--a cry of warning now, rather than a threat, though again thewords were,
"Stop the car! Stop the car! The bishop! The bishop!"
The bishop's carriage had come to a standstill directly across thetrack, the crowd being here so dense that it was impossible for thedriver to go even a yard farther.
The policemen had cleared the barricade from the track, and thensprung hastily on the car again. Evidently they had not noticed thedangerous position of the carriage, and now the motorman started thecar forward. The man was a stranger in the city. He knew nothing aboutthe bishop--cared nothing about him. He was there to run that car, andhe meant to do it or die in the attempt, so when the crowd shouted,
"The bishop! The bishop!" he yelled in reply,
"Get out of the way then if you don't want him hurt. This car'sa-going through, bishop or no bishop!"
The car was already in motion. The crowd pushed and struggled andtried to fall back and let the carriage pass over the track, but itwas impossible, so closely were the people packed together there.
"Stop the car!"]
On the car came, while for an instant the crowd waited with tensebreath for what should follow.
"Loyal unto death." The words rang through Theodore's brain, as inthat instant he sprang swiftly forward and flung himself across thetrack directly in front of the slowly moving car. A cry of horrorbroke from the throng and a score of hands were stretched forth todraw the boy from his dangerous position, but he clung to the fenderand would not be removed.
"Stop the car!" he pleaded. "Oh stop the car or the bishop will bekilled!"
Never a thought of his own danger had the boy,--for he would havegiven his young life freely and joyfully for his bishop, but thesacrifice was not needed. The police, now seeing the danger, forcedthe furious motorman to stop the car until the crowd had had time tofall back and the carriage had safely crossed the track. Then the carpassed on followed by threatening glances and menacing words from theangry throng.
But now the bishop arose in the carriage, and as he stood in themajesty of his great height with the light of a pure heart and a holylife illumining his face--once again a hush fell upon that vastgathering, and when the rich voice rolled out upon the still air,uttering its message of heavenly love, and strong, sweet counsels ofpeace and justice, the hearts of the people were melted withinthem. Hard, brutal men and rude street boys listened, feeling astrange power that they could not understand, thrilling their souls,and compelling them, in spite of their own wills, to follow thecounsels of this servant of God.
No other man in that great city was honoured and loved by rich andpoor alike, as was the bishop. To no other would such a crowd in sucha mood have hearkened, but they stood in silence and listenedbreathlessly as if they feared to lose a single word. They listened asif they knew that never again would such a message come to them fromthose lips. Stern, bitter faces softened, and hard eyes dimmed withtears as the burning, melting words fell on the listening ears. Womenwept, and men forgot their hatreds and their grievances. Only here andthere an evil face grew more evil as the bishop's words worked uponthe hearts and consciences of that vast throng.
Tom Steel dropped his mask of careless indifference, as he tried tostem the tide by whispering sneers and taunts to one and another, butthey would have none of his counsels now, and after a while he slunkaway with a black scowl on his face and evil words on his lips, andstill beside him slouched the gaunt, ragged figure with its crown ofrough red hair; and no one bade them stay; no one listened to theirwicked whispers, for the bishop's words were filling every ear andevery heart.
At last, the bishop stretched forth his hands and pronounced a tenderblessing upon them all, and then he drove slowly away, and when he wasgone rough men looked into each other's faces, half wondering, halfashamed, as they moved away. They had no desire now for rioting andlawlessness--for deeds of blood and violence. The Spirit of God hadtouched their hearts. The atmosphere in which the bishop lived andmoved and had his being had for the time enveloped even these. Nowonder then, that it had wrought such a transformation in the heartand life of one little street boy.
That same night two hundred of the city clergymen united in an appealto the company to submit the troubles to arbitration, and to this boththe company and the strikers agreed. The result was that although allthat the men asked was not granted, yet their hours were shortened,and an increase of pay promised at the beginning of the year.