King coal, p.26
King Coal, page 26
There was a grim look upon Hal’s face, but he forced himself to speak politely. “If your father orders anything that interferes with the rescuing of the men—don’t you see, Percy, that I have to fight him?”
“But how can you fight him?”
“With the one weapon I have—publicity.”
“You mean—” Percy stopped, and stared.
“I mean what I said before—I’d turn Billy Keating loose and blow this whole story wide open.”
“Well, by God!” cried young Harrigan. “I must say I’d call it damned dirty of you! You said you’d not do it, if I’d come here and open the mine!”
“But what good does it do to open it, if you close it again before the men are out?” Hal paused, and when he went on it was in a sincere attempt at apology. “Percy, don’t imagine I fail to appreciate the embarrassments of this situation. I know I must seem a cad to you—more than you’ve cared to tell me. I called you my friend in spite of all our quarrels. All I can do is to assure you that I never intended to get into such a position as this.”
“Well, what the hell did you want to come here for? You knew it was the property of a friend—”
“That’s the question at issue between us, Percy. Have you forgotten our arguments? I tried to convince you what it meant that you and I should own the things by which other people have to live. I said we were ignorant of the conditions under which our properties were worked, we were a bunch of parasites and idlers. But you laughed at me, called me a crank, an anarchist, said I swallowed what any muck-raker fed me. So I said: ‘I’ll go to one of Percy’s mines! Then, when he tries to argue with me, I’ll have him!’ That was the way the thing started—as a joke. But then I got drawn into things. I don’t want to be nasty, but no man with a drop of red blood in his veins could stay in this place a week without wanting to fight! That’s why I want you to stay—you ought to stay, to meet some of the people and see for yourself.”
“Well, I can’t stay,” said the other, coldly. “And all I can tell you is that I wish you’d go somewhere else to do your sociology.”
“But where could I go, Percy? Somebody owns everything. If it’s a big thing, it’s almost certain to be somebody we know.”
Said Percy, “If I might make a suggestion, you could have begun with the coal-mines of the Warner Company.”
Hal laughed. “You may be sure I thought of that, Percy. But see the situation! If I was to accomplish my purpose, it was essential that I shouldn’t be known. And I had met some of my father’s superintendents in his office, and I knew they’d recognise me. So I had to go to some other mines.”
“Most fortunate for the Warner Company,” replied Percy, in an ugly tone.
Hal answered, gravely, “Let me tell you, I don’t intend to leave the Warner Company permanently out of my sociology.”
“Well,” replied the other, “all I can say is that we pass one of their properties on our way back, and nothing would please me better than to stop the train and let you off!”
21. Hal went into the drawing-room car. There were Mrs. Curtis and Reggie Porter, playing bridge with Genevieve Halsey and young Everson. Bob Creston was chatting with Betty Gunnison, telling her what he had seen outside, no doubt. Bert Atkins was looking over the morning paper, yawning. Hal went on, seeking Jessie Arthur, and found her in one of the compartments of the car, looking out of the rain-drenched window—learning about a mining-camp in the manner permitted to young ladies of her class.
He expected to find her in a disturbed state of mind, and was prepared to apologise. But when he met the look of distress she turned upon him, he did not know just where to begin. He tried to speak casually—he had heard she was going away. But she caught him by the hand, exclaiming: “Hal, you are coming with us!”
He did not answer for a moment, but sat down by her. “Have I made you suffer so much, Jessie?”
He saw tears start into her eyes. “Haven’t you known you were making me suffer? Here I was as Percy’s guest; and to have you put such questions to me! What could I say? What do I know about the way Mr. Harrigan should run his business?”
“Yes, dear,” he said, humbly. “Perhaps I shouldn’t have drawn you into it. But the matter was so complicated and so sudden. Can’t you understand that, and forgive me? Everything has turned out so well!”
But she did not think that everything had turned out well. “In the first place, for you to be here, in such a plight! And when I thought you were hunting mountain-goats in Mexico!”
He could not help laughing; but Jessie had not even a smile. “And then—to have you drag our love into the thing, there before every one!”
“Was that really so terrible, Jessie?”
She looked at him with amazement. That he, Hal Warner, could have done such a thing, and not realise how terrible it was! To put her in a position where she had to break either the laws of love or the laws of good-breeding! Why, it had amounted to a public quarrel. It would be the talk of the town—there was no end to the embarrassment of it!
“But, sweetheart!” argued Hal. “Try to see the reality of this thing—think about those people in the mine. You really must do that!”
She looked at him, and noticed the new, grim lines that had come upon his youthful face. Also, she caught the note of suppressed passion in his voice. He was pale and weary looking, in dirty clothes, his hair unkempt and his face only half washed. It was terrifying—as if he had gone to war.
“Listen to me, Jessie,” he insisted. “I want you to know about these things. If you and I are ever to make each other happy, you must try to grow up with me. That was why I was glad to have you here—you would have a chance to see for yourself. Now I ask you not to go without seeing.”
“But I have to go, Hal. I can’t ask Percy Harrigan to stay and inconvenience everybody!”
“You can stay without him. You can ask one of the ladies to chaperon you.”
She gazed at him in dismay. “Why, Hal! What a thing to suggest!”
“Why so?”
“Think how it would look!”
“I can’t think so much about looks, dear—”
She broke in: “Think what Mamma would say!”
“She wouldn’t like it, I know—”
“She would be wild! She would never forgive either of us. She would never forgive any one who stayed with me. And what would Percy say, if I came here as his guest, and stayed to spy on him and his father? Don’t you see how preposterous it would be?”
Yes, he saw. He was defying all the conventions of her world, and it seemed to her a course of madness. She clutched his hands in hers, and the tears ran down her cheeks.
“Hal,” she cried, “I can’t leave you in this dreadful place! You look like a ghost, and a scarecrow, too! I want you to go and get some decent clothes and come home on this train.”
But he shook his head. “It’s not possible, Jessie.”
“Why not?”
“Because I have a duty to do here. Can’t you understand, dear? All my life, I’ve been living on the labour of coal-miners, and I’ve never taken the trouble to go near them, to see how my money was got!”
“But, Hal! These aren’t your people! They are Mr. Harrigan’s people!”
“Yes,” he said, “but it’s all the same. They toil, and we live on their toil, and take it as a matter of course.”
“But what can one do about it, Hal?”
“One can understand it, if nothing else. And you see what I was able to do in this case—to get the mine open.”
“Hal,” she exclaimed, “I can’t understand you! You’ve become so cynical, you don’t believe in any one! You’re quite convinced that these officials meant to murder their working people! As if Mr. Harrigan would let his mines be run that way!”
“Mr. Harrigan, Jessie? He passes the collection plate at St. George’s! That’s the only place you’ve ever seen him, and that’s all you know about him.”
“I know what everybody says, Hal! Papa knows him, and my brothers—yes, your own brother, too! Isn’t it true that Edward would disapprove what you’re doing?”
“Yes, dear, I fear so.”
“And you set yourself up against them—against everybody you know! Is it reasonable to think the older people are all wrong, and only you are right? Isn’t it at least possible you’re making a mistake? Think about it—honestly, Hal, for my sake!”
She was looking at him pleadingly; and he leaned forward and took her hand. “Jessie,” he said, his voice trembling, “I know that these working people are oppressed; I know it, because I have been one of them! And I know that such men as Peter Harrigan, and even my own brother, are to blame! And they’ve got to be faced by some one—they’ve got to be made to see! I’ve come to see it clearly this summer—that’s the job I have to do!”
She was gazing at him with her wide-open, beautiful eyes; underneath her protests and her terror, she was thrilling with awe at this amazing madman she loved. “They will kill you!” she cried.
“No, dearest—you don’t need to worry about that—I don’t think they’ll kill me.”
“But they shot at you!”
“No, they shot at Joe Smith, a miner’s buddy. They won’t shoot at the son of a millionaire—not in America, Jessie.”
“But some dark night—”
“Set your mind at rest,” he said, “I’ve got Percy tied up in this, and everybody knows it. There’s no way they could kill me without the whole story’s coming out—and so I’m as safe as I would be in my bed at home!”
22. Hal was still possessed by his idea that Jessie must be taught—she must have knowledge forced upon her, whether she would or no. The train would not start for a couple of hours, and he tried to think of some use he could make of that precious interval. He recalled that Rosa Minetti had returned to her cabin to attend to her baby. A sudden vision came to him of Jessie in that little home. Rosa was sweet and good, and assuredly Little Jerry was a “winner.”
“Sweetheart,” he said, “I wish you’d come for a walk with me.”
“But it’s raining, Hal!”
“It won’t hurt you to spoil one dress; you have plenty.”
“I’m not thinking of that—”
“I wish you’d come.”
“I don’t feel comfortable about it, Hal. I’m here as Percy’s guest, and he mightn’t like—”
“I’ll ask him if he objects to your taking a stroll,” he suggested, with pretended gravity.
“No, no! That would make it worse!” Jessie had no humour whatever about these matters.
“Well, Vivie Cass was out, and some of the others are going. He hasn’t objected to that.”
“I know, Hal. But he knows they’re all right.”
Hal laughed. “Come on, Jessie. Percy won’t hold you for my sins! You have a long train journey before you, and some fresh air will be good for you.”
She saw that she must make some concession to him, if she was to keep any of her influence over him.
“All right,” she said, with resignation, and disappeared and returned with a heavy veil over her face, to conceal her from prying reportorial eyes; also an equipment of mackintosh, umbrella and overshoes, against the rain. The two stole out of the car, feeling like a couple of criminals.
Skirting the edge of the throng about the pit-mouth, they came to the muddy, unpaved quarter in which the Italians had their homes; he held her arm, steering her through the miniature sloughs and creeks. It was thrilling to him to have her with him thus, to see her sweet face and hear her voice full of love. Many a time he had thought of her here, and told her in his imagination of his experiences!
He told her now—about the Minetti family, and how he had met Big and Little Jerry on the street, and how they had taken him in, and then been driven by fear to let him go again. He told his check-weighman story, and was telling how Jeff Cotton had arrested him; but they came to the Minetti cabin, and the terrifying narrative was cut short.
It was Little Jerry who came to the door, with the remains of breakfast distributed upon his cheeks; he stared in wonder at the mysteriously veiled figure. Entering, they saw Rosa sitting in a chair nursing her baby. She rose in confusion; but she did not quite like to turn her back upon her guests, so she stood trying to hide her breast as best she could, blushing and looking very girlish and pretty.
Hal introduced Jessie, as an old friend who was interested to meet his new friends, and Jessie threw back her veil and sat down. Little Jerry wiped off his face at his mother’s command, and then came where he could stare at this incredibly lovely vision.
“I’ve been telling Miss Arthur what good care you took of me,” said Hal to Rosa. “She wanted to come and thank you for it.”
“Yes,” added Jessie, graciously. “Anybody who is good to Hal earns my gratitude.”
Rosa started to murmur something; but Little Jerry broke in, with his cheerful voice, “Why you call him Hal? His name’s Joe!”
“Ssh!” cried Rosa. But Hal and Jessie laughed—and so the process of Americanising Little Jerry was continued.
“I’ve got lots of names,” said Hal. “They called me Hal when I was a kid like you.”
“Did she know you then?” inquired Little Jerry.
“Yes, indeed.”
“Is she your girl?”
Rosa laughed shyly, and Jessie blushed, and looked charming. She realised vaguely a difference in manners. These people accepted the existence of “girls,” not concealing their interest in the phenomenon.
“It’s a secret,” warned Hal. “Don’t you tell on us!”
“I can keep a secret,” said Little Jerry. After a moment’s pause he added, dropping his voice, “You gotta keep secrets if you work in North Valley.”
“You bet your life,” said Hal.
“My father’s a Socialist,” continued the other, addressing Jessie; then, since one thing leads on to another, “My father’s a shot-firer.”
“What’s a shot-firer?” asked Jessie, by way of being sociable.
“Jesus!” exclaimed Little Jerry. “Don’t you know nothin’ about minin’?”
“No,” said Jessie. “You tell me.”
“You couldn’t get no coal without a shot-firer,” declared Little Jerry. “You gotta get a good one, too, or maybe you bust up the mine. My father’s the best they got.”
“What does he do?”
“Well, they got a drill—long, long, like this, all the way across the room; and they turn it and bore holes in the coal. Sometimes they got machines to drill, only we don’t like them machines, ’cause it takes the men’s jobs. When they got the holes, then the shot-firer comes and sets off the powder. You gotta have—” and here Little Jerry slowed up, pronouncing each syllable very carefully—“per-miss-i-ble powder—what don’t make no flame. And you gotta know just how much to put in. If you put in too much, you smash the coal, and the miner raises hell; if you don’t put in enough, you make too much work for him, an’ he raises hell again. So you gotta get a good shot-firer.”
Jessie looked at Hal, and he saw that her dismay was mingled with genuine amusement. He judged this a good way for her to get her education, so he proceeded to draw out Little Jerry on other aspects of coal-mining: on short weights and long hours, grafting bosses and camp-marshals, company-stores and boarding-houses, Socialist agitators and union organisers. Little Jerry talked freely of the secrets of the camp. “It’s all right for you to know,” he remarked gravely. “You’re Joe’s girl!”
“You little cherub!” exclaimed Jessie.
“What’s a cherub?” was Little Jerry’s reply.
23. So the time passed in a way that was pleasant. Jessie was completely won by this little Dago mine-urchin, in spite of all his frightful curse-words; and Hal saw that she was won, and was delighted by the success of this experiment in social amalgamation. He could not read Jessie’s mind, and realise that underneath her genuine delight were reservations born of her prejudices, the instinctive cruelty of caste. Yes, this little mine chap was a cherub, now; but how about when he grew big? He would grow ugly and coarse-looking, in ten years one would not know him from any other of the rough and dirty men of the village. Jessie took the fact that common people grow ugly as they mature as a proof that they are, in some deep and permanent way, the inferiors of those above them. Hal was throwing away his time and strength, trying to make them into something which Nature had obviously not intended them to be! She decided to make that point to Hal on their way back to the train. She realised that he had brought her here to educate her; like all the rest of the world, she resented forcible education, and she was not without hope that she might turn the tables and educate Hal.
Pretty soon Rosa finished nursing the baby, and Jessie remarked the little one’s black eyes. This topic broke down the mother’s shyness, and they were chatting pleasantly, when suddenly they heard sounds outside which caused them to start up. It was a clamour of women’s voices; and Hal and Rosa sprang to the door. Just now was a critical time, when every one was on edge for news.
Hal threw open the door and called to those outside “What is it?” There came a response, in a woman’s voice, “They’ve found Rafferty!”
“Alive?”
“Nobody knows yet.”
“Where?”
“In Room Seventeen. Eleven of them—Rafferty, and young Flanagan, and Johannson, the Swede. They’re near dead—can’t speak, they say. They won’t let anybody near them.”
Other voices broke in; but the one which answered Hal had a different quality; it was a warm, rich voice, unmistakably Irish, and it held Jessie’s attention. “They’ve got them in the tipple-room, and the women want to know about their men, and they won’t tell them. They’re beatin’ them back like dogs!”
