Scarlet Runner

by Lily Ennis

  For Mary’s part the discovery sat uncomfortably. She wrestled long and hard over what to do. She still felt badly about taking the opposite stance to her father and mortified that they’d never resolved their difference. In the end that settled it for her. If her father loved this woman then Mary would be kind to her, look out for her. It was something she could do for her father.

  ‘The gloves are coming off ladies,’ Mary told the small gathering in Nell’s studio. ‘Eleven men were sentenced to twelve months gaol today, Clara’s husband being one of them. There’ll be more.’ She hesitated. No one disagreed. ‘The police seem reluctant to arrest women.’

  Bessie laughed. ‘I don’t know what I have to do to get arrested, I’m sure.’

  Mary grit her teeth. ‘It’s not our goal, Bessie. Who is going to do the work if we go to gaol?’

  ‘’Spose not,’ Bessie muttered.

  ‘Clara’s got no husband now,’ Mary continued. ‘Right when she needs extra help. Who else’s husband got gaol?’

  Three women answered.

  ‘Then we must help each other out,’ Mary said. ‘We’ll take it in turns to mind each others’ children and you can go to Auckland to visit your husbands.’

  ‘Who’s got money for that?’ asked Bessie.

  ‘The strike committee,’ Mary replied. ‘So don’t you worry about that.’

  ‘Henry says the Arbitrationists are arming themselves.’ It was Rose. ‘Isabelle, are you still able to get guns?’

  Isabelle considered the request. ‘I’m not sure. I’d have to go outside the town.’

  Nell was horrified. ‘Oh, no, no girls. You can’t be serious.’

  ‘Why not?’ asked Bessie. ‘Sounds like they’re getting ready for something. If I was Clara I’d want the reassurance of a gun. No. You arm yourself my girl.’

  I could let Clara take mine,’ Mary offered.

  She sheepishly caught Nell’s eye. ‘How about it Clara?’ asked Mary. ‘Would that make you feel better?’

  Clara shook her head vehemently. ‘I should think it would make me feel a whole lot worse.’

  Rose stepped in. ‘You would be a target, Clara, if the mine re-opens with scab labour. There’s talk of it.’

  ‘Don’t be silly,’ Clara snapped. ‘Of course I’m not having a gun. Under any circumstances.’

  ‘There’s an assembly at the hall every single night,’ said Rose. ‘They keep us up half the night. Even Henry’s spending time there. Sometimes it gets raucous. I wouldn’t want to be alone at night and they’re on our side.’ She laughed.

  Nell huffed. Bessie and Rose seemed to treat the whole nasty affair like a game. ‘I hear some houses are under siege.’

  Isabelle quickly snapped a reply. ‘We don’t condone that.’

  ‘No. Of course not. But you’re not letting the families go hungry?’ Nell pressed the point.

  Several of the women carried out night time food drops, skirting across the back yards of houses avoiding both the picketers, who by now had become following up strikers, and the victims, usually an engine driver’s family.

  ‘I had a close shave the other night,’ said Rose. ‘A dog bailed me up on Kenny Street. Or should I say behind Kenny Street. I crept along the side of Brown’s house to get into the Portman property to collect the basket which we hide in the laundry shed and what do you think the Brown’s have done? Only gone and got a dog! Well, I disturbed the brute and he clamped onto my skirt and do you think he would let me go?’

  The girls began to giggle, then Rose too saw the funny side.

  ‘In the end there was only one thing for it,’ she said.

  Clara threw her hands to her mouth. ‘Oh, you didn’t hurt it!’

  ‘No! I ripped off my skirt and let him have it then high-tailed it out of there.’

  Mary shuddered. ‘Why on earth would the Brown’s go and get a dog?’

  ‘I wouldn’t mind getting that skirt back,’ said Rose.

  ‘Be careful, girls,’ said Nell. ‘The newspapers haven’t taken kindly to you. They’re calling you unwomanly. To read what the papers say you’d think it was your fault the union levies are tailing off.’

  ‘Well it can’t be that bad,’ Mary replied, ‘the reaction to the press I mean. The Federation organiser is getting a good response to his addresses. Anyway, our menfolk are behind us, womanly or not.’

  Rose opened a packet of biscuits and handed it around. ‘The newspapers are referring to Bessie.’ She shot a grin to her friend who beamed with the misplaced compliment.

  Isabelle gathered up her children and rubbed the small of her back. ‘Ian says William expects to go to gaol. The executive of the union has already resolved that Ian and Archie are to act as president and vice-president. We must ensure that William and Floyd are kept fully informed and their families must be cared for. William’s Jack could be a handful without his father’s firm hand. And I wouldn’t put too much faith in his house-keeper. She likes a tipple.’

  Rose looked at Isabelle’s bulging belly. ‘How long have you got, Issy?’

  Isabelle rubbed it. ‘Five weeks,’ she said. ‘But don’t you worry. I’m with you until the end. If I can’t join you I’ll be writing for the Maoriland Worker and writing letters to the editor to every newspaper in the country. I might even write some of Mary’s speeches.’

  ‘Why don’t we demonstrate outside the police station?’ asked Bessie. ‘It’s them that’s bringing these nonsense charges on our husbands.’

  ‘Tonight?’ asked Rose.

  The women pulled faces as they considered it.

  ‘Why not?’ Bessie replied. ‘Strike while the iron’s hot. ‘Before too many of us are left without our men and us holding the baby.’

  ‘True,’ Rose agreed. ‘Easier to do it now. Count me in.’

  The meeting disbanded and Nell gave Mary’s hand a little squeeze.

  * * *

 

  The protest ebbed and waned during the night as the demonstrators tried to stave off sleep. Mary arranged a schedule where the girls took two hour shifts, thus in the first instance keeping up the momentum of the protest but also allowing the women to slip out while husbands and children were sleeping. Mary found it hard to stay away. Husbands came and went, bolstering the numbers.

  The police remained strong throughout prancing their mounts at the edge of the crowd. Wisely, the door to the station remained locked.

  Finally Mary wandered home resolving to do a last stint just before dawn. Tiredness crept into her bones. She would sleep as soon as her head hit the pillow. Away from the din of the protest she relaxed into a stroll. Ahead she noticed a moving shadow which tried to remain hidden. Her heart leapt. Was she to be the victim of a following? Why is he hidden? Her fate must be worse! She moved into the middle of the carriageway.

  ‘Who’s there?’

  Percy stepped out of the bushes. ‘It’s me, sis.’

  ‘What the? You scared the living daylights out of me! What are you doing?’

  He sidled up to her. ‘I was spying on you for ma.’

  ‘What sort of spy waits until his prey is nearly home and then admits the deed?’

  ‘Oh, give me some credit, Mary!’ he rebuked. ‘I’ve seen what you’ve been doing.’

  ‘Oh. And what of it?’

  ‘It’s still wrong,’ Percy continued, ‘what you’re doing. Mother is worried about the house. You’re making her sick with all this stuff.’

  ‘The house?’

  ‘Archie’s brother, the one who works for the mine. He came to see ma today. Says we have to get out. They’ve got a new manager.’

  Mary hesitated. ‘Oh, poor mother. When?’

  ‘Two weeks.’

  ‘So...’ Mary digested the information. ‘The company must be going to reopen the mine then too. Did he say that Percy?’

  Percy shrugged.

  Mary quickened her step and clenched her fists as the realisation dawned on her. ‘They’re going to take on non-union
labour!’

  * * *

  Ernie Hardcastle cut a commanding figure as he spoke to a crowd of several hundred in Wellington’s Post Office Square. He echoed the position of the Federation of Labour that had been trumpeted all over the country in the last few days: that the strikers who had been brought by the police before a class biased magistrate had done right in preferring imprisonment to a gag. He maintained that if a man signed a bond he would be dogged by the police, and would be in risk of arrest if he opened his mouth or even dared to look black.

  ‘The strikers of Waihi are resolute in the face of unwarranted police menace,’ he said. ‘Why, there have been no assaults, no attacks or intimidations. And yet this government sides heavily with the capitalist mine owner by sending in extra police.

  ‘The police are a necessary evil under capitalism, and paid hirelings of the capitalistic class.

  ‘The Waihi Goldmining Company will tell you that the cause of the strike is an internal trouble among the workers. It is not! The men noticed that the mine owners were making preparations for a struggle with the workers. And when the strike was announced the company delayed meeting with the union. When they did meet the company intimidated the union by overwhelming the five union and Federation delegates. The company insulted the union by refusing to enter into negotiations on the grounds that the union would ignore any bargains made.’

  Ernie raised his hands and his voice at the same time, incredulous that the company would take such a stance.

  ‘Heavy timbers were installed in readiness for the introduction of a single-handed popper. So what, you say. I’ll warrant you good folk don’t know what that is. It is a drill that has the propensity to injure and maim if not adequately maintained, something the company does not have a good record in. The Federation support the Waihi union in its opposition to the introduction of this drill.

  ‘The owners also want to tighten the competitive contract system of wages, but the miners caught them on the hop, striking before these preparations were completed.’

  The lunchtime crowd seemed receptive, made more so by the uncommonly warm early spring. Wellingtonians milled around the square a little longer, eager to take advantage of the sun and be entertained at the same time. Ernie continued.

  ‘You are unaware of these facts because the newspapers do not give you the truth. The New Zealand press is capitalistic. Only the official organ of the Federation is the exception.’

  He waved the Maoriland Worker above his head. ‘Every other organ, every other rag supports capitalism.’

  Some in the crowd laughed.

  ‘You laugh, sir,’ Ernie boomed, pointing to a man. ‘The United Labour Party is also guilty of treachery and organised snobbery. Open your eyes and your ears good citizens of Wellington. See that the police force and the class-biased judiciary are puppets of this capitalist government. I invite you to deplore the imprisonment of Waihi strikers and call on the government to immediately and unconditionally release them.’

  Ernie stepped off the box platform. It was a fair crowd, he thought. But lunchtime office workers and shoppers weren’t the most understanding. Nevertheless, speeches in cities always gained press coverage.

  He shoved his notes in his jacket. He would use them tonight to address the Wellington Operative Bakers’ Union who still had not pledged any financial support.

  * * *

  It was Garrick’s day in court. Proceedings opened with Garrick alleged to have been following up free labourers on September fourth. He pleaded not guilty and conducted his own defence.

  In addressing the court he contended that Sergeant Millhouse, in alleging that Garrick was in the front row at the demonstration at Waikino on the afternoon of September fourth, had unquestionably made a mistake. He called several police as witnesses and not one could state that they had seen him. He also called four free labourers who supported the police testimony.

  When Garrick was cross examined he maintained that he had been on Dixon’s Track and was also near the foot of Fraser’s Track that afternoon, but he was not following the men. Corroborative evidence was given by Leonard and Buster.

  Justice Bellworthy dismissed the information against Garrick, saying the case against him was certainly not as strong as in the charges against the other three concerned. It was quite clear that Garrick had been at Waikino and in the crowd, but it was not clear from the evidence that followed, or as to certain places in which it was said he had been seen. That being so he could not say the charge had been proved.

  Garrick left the court to cheers and the protesters outside held him aloft, brandishing him a hero.

  William slapped Garrick on the back. ‘Well done, mate.’

  ‘Yeah, I showed them didn’t I?’ said Garrick then he strode away from the crowd to the Miners’ Union Hall.

  ‘Where are you going?’ called Archie.

  Garrick grinned and turned to Archie without stopping. ‘Come on,’ he called.

  He attracted a few followers, including Jack and Errol who’d skipped school to attend their father’s sentencing. Garrick rushed inside the hall and returned with the Union Jack, dragging it into the middle of the street. He ripped it to shreds to the raucous cheer of supporters.

  ‘That’s what we think of the bloody Arbitrationists and their bloody justice system,’ Garrick cried.

  ‘But you got off, Garrick,’ said Jack.

  Garrick held a finger to his nose. ‘But did I do it, lad?’

  A shrill whistle pierced the air and a mounted policeman rounded on the group. ‘Clear this mess up,’ he cried. ‘It’s illegal to destroy a flag. Who will be man enough to own up?’

  Garrick laughed. ‘We found it like this didn’t we, lads?’

  The men backed off nonchalantly leaving the shredded flag on the ground and muttering their disgust that anyone would treat the Union Jack with such disdain.

  Jack caught up with William who put his arm around his son’s shoulder.

  ‘Are you going to gaol, da?’ asked Jack.

  ‘Probably, son. If I do, it won’t be for long. I want you to look after your sister.’

  Jack didn’t speak. He suddenly felt very alone. He wanted to tell his father what he’d done, that he’d as good as killed a man. Perhaps the only man killed in this whole awful strike. But he didn’t. His da didn’t need any extra worries.

  ‘And don’t wag school.’ William gave Jack a playful cuff on the head.

  Jack grinned. ‘Course not.’

  As they neared the court house a large crowd milled outside ready for more of the day’s dramas.

  Chapter Twenty Two

  William dressed in the suit he didn’t wear for work and got the children up early. He’d been awake since the first blackbirds sang. He’d resigned himself to the fact that last night would probably be the last in his own bed. He’d slept poorly, the apprehension of today unsettling him. He’d got up in the night and stood at the children’s door to watch them sleep. Suddenly he missed Sarah more than he had in a long time. She would have made it easier for him, or so he liked to think.

  ‘You can skip school today,’ he told the children. He knew Jack would anyway, and what Jack did Errol would follow.

  Jack should have been jubilant at that but his father’s likely gaol sentence weighed heavily. He toyed with the idea of telling his father of his misdeeds; God knows! He needed to tell someone. It was eating him up. But he noticed William’s hard set to his face. It wouldn’t be fair to burden the man further, what with gaol looming on the horizon.

  ‘Will you go to gaol today, daddy?’ asked Catherine.

  William pressed his lips together. He wanted to make it all right for Catherine.

  He forced a thin smile. ‘Maybe, honey.’

  She ran to him and embraced him.

  ‘Jack will look after you.’

  ‘I don’t want Jack,’ she said dropping her bottom lip. ‘I want you.’

  William held her at arm’s length. She was the image o
f her mother. ‘Ah, lass. What am I going to do with you?’

  He hugged her.

  ‘All right boys,’ William said straightening his suit. ‘It’s time.’

  They walked down the road into the town as children walked up on their way to school. Catherine clutched her father’s hand, embarrassed that the whole school must know where they were going. Jack wasn’t. He swaggered in front of William, even going so far as to grin at his friends.

  The courthouse already had a fair crowd outside it, including the diehard demonstrators who had ever more slogans decrying the injustices of the so-called justice system. With Floyd already gaoled, the prospect of William going down struck a chord with the men. Obviously the union leaders were targeted. The Federation of Labour would use that to their advantage. On the face of it, it was a good tactic.

  Archie and Ian shook William’s hand and wished him luck. As the time came for court to commence the swelling crowd forced the men to finally go inside. William swiped Jack and Errol playfully and whispered something to Catherine. Then he and three other defendants took their places before the magistrate called for quiet.

  There was something lurking beneath the quiet of the court today. The sentencing of their union leader would undoubtedly be a turning point in the view of the strikers and the Federation. It could almost be welcomed by them; the ultimate martyr to the cause. It wouldn’t do their cause any harm at all. And that’s what made it exasperating. How many times had he lectured these people on the exact reasons they were being sent to gaol? And still they came, they lost and he sent them to gaol.

  He glanced over the expectant crowd; as many women as children, always dressed immaculately, as if that would testify to the good character of their husbands. In the back he saw Mary standing with Archie, his young boy perched on Archie’s shoulders. Next to them were Ian and Isabelle McCardie, well known in Socialist Party circles of which he was not unfamiliar. It was well known that Ian and Archie were ready to step into William’s shoes. He hoped they had the good sense to keep their noses clean. He peered at Mary and Isabelle, satisfied that they might keep out of trouble with those women behind them.

  At length His Honour cleared his throat. He summed up what he saw as a case of going to gaol for misguided principles. Unfortunately as the men had been found guilty he must send them to gaol and further, rather than being held over in the police station where a rigorous demonstration would likely occur, he must send them on the first available train out of Waihi.