CHAPTER TWENTY FOUR.
UNCLE JACK AND I HAVE A RUN.
I did not have any lessons in boxing, in spite of my earnest desire.
"We do not want to be aggressors, Cob," said my Uncle Dick.
"But we want to defend ourselves, uncle."
"To be sure we do, my lad," he said; "and we'll be ready as we can whenwe are attacked; but I don't see the necessity for training ourselves tofight."
So I did not meet and thrash my enemy, but went steadily on with myduties at the works.
In fact I was very little the worse for my adventure, thanks to MrsGentles, to whom I returned the cap she had lent me and thanked herwarmly for her goodness.
She seemed very pleased to see me, and told me that her "mester" wasquite well, only his leg was a little stiff, and that he was at work nowwith her boys.
The matters seemed now to have taken a sudden turn, as Mr Tomplin saidthey would: the men were evidently getting over their dislike to us andthe new steel, making it up and grinding it in an ill-used, halfcontemptuous sort of way, and at last the necessity for watching bynight seemed so slight that we gave it up.
But it was felt that it would not be wise to give up the air of keepingthe place looked after by night, so old Dunning the gate-keeper wasconsulted, and he knew of the very man--one who had been a nightwatchman all his life and was now out of work through the failure of thefirm by whom he had been employed.
In due time the man came--a tall, very stout fellow, of about sixty,with a fierce look and a presence that was enough to keep away mischiefby the fact of its being known that he was there.
He came twice, and was engaged to be on duty every night at nine; and inthe conversation that ensued in the office he took rather a gruff,independent tone, which was mingled with contempt as he was told of theattempts that had been made.
"Yes," he said coolly; "it's a way the hands have wherever new folk comeand don't hev a reg'lar watchman. There wouldn't hev been none of thatsort o' thing if I had been here."
"Then you don't expect any more troubles of this kind?"
"More! Not likely, mester. We've ways of our own down here; and assoon as the lads know that Tom Searby's on as watchman there'll be nomore trouble."
"I hope there will not," said Uncle Dick as soon as the man had gone."It will be worth all his wages to be able to sleep in peace."
About this time there had been some talk of my father and mother comingdown to Arrowfield, but once more difficulties arose in town whichnecessitated my father's stay, and as my mother was rather delicate, itwas decided that she should not be brought up into the cold north tillthe springtime came again.
"All work and no play makes--you know the rest," said Uncle Jack onemorning at breakfast. "I won't say it, because it sounds egotistic.Cob, what do you say? Let's ask for a holiday."
"Why not all four go?" I said eagerly; for though the works were veryinteresting and I enjoyed seeing the work go oil, I was ready enough toget away, and so sure as the sun shone brightly I felt a great longingto be off from the soot and noise to where the great hills were a-bloomwith heather and gorse, and tramp where I pleased.
Uncle Dick shook his head.
"No," he said; "two of us stay--two go. You fellows have a run to-day,and we'll take our turn another time."
We were too busy to waste time, and in high glee away we went, with nospecial aim in view, only to get out of the town as soon as possible,and off to the hills.
Uncle Jack was a stern, hard man in the works, but as soon as he wentout for a holiday he used to take off twenty years, as he said, andleave them at home, so that I seemed to have a big lad of my own age forcompanion.
It was a glorious morning, and our way lay by the works and then on pasta series of "wheels" up the valley, in fact the same route I had takenthat day when I was hunted by the boys.
But I had Uncle Jack by my side, and in addition it was past breakfasttime, and the boys were at work.
We had nearly reached the dam into which I had so narrowly escaped aducking, and I was wondering whether Uncle Jack would mind my justrunning to speak to the big honest woman in the row of houses we wereabout to pass, when he stood still.
"What is it?" I said.
"Cob, my lad," he cried, "I want a new head or a new set of brains, orsomething. I've totally forgotten to ask your Uncle Dick to write tothe engineer about the boiler."
"Let me run back," I said.
"Won't do, my boy; must see him myself. There, you keep steadily onalong the road as if we were bound for Leadshire, and I'll overtake youin less than half an hour."
"But," I said, "I was going this way to meet Uncle Dick that day when hewent to buy the stones, and what a holiday that turned out!"
"I don't think history will repeat itself this time, Cob," he replied.
"But will you be able to find me again?"
"I can't help it if you keep to the road. If you jump over the firsthedge you come to, and go rambling over the hills, of course I shall notfind you."
"Then there is no fear," I said; and he walked sharply back, while Istrode on slowly and stopped by the open window of one factory, where acouple of men were spinning teapots.
"Spinning teapots!" I fancy I hear some one say; "how's that done?"
Well, it has always struck me as being so ingenious and such an exampleof what can be done by working on metal whirled round at a great speed,that I may interest some one in telling all I saw.
The works opposite which I stopped found their motive power in a greatwheel just as ours did, but instead of steel being the metal used, thefirm worked in what is called Britannia metal, which is an alloy of tin,antimony, zinc, and copper, which being mixed in certain proportionsform a metal having the whiteness of tin, but a solidity and firmnessgiven by the three latter metals, that make it very durable, which tinis not.
"Oh, but," says somebody, "tin is hard enough! Look at the tinsaucepans and kettles in every kitchen."
I beg pardon; those are all made of plates of iron rolled out very thinand then dipped in a bath of tin, to come out white and silvery andclean and ready to keep off rust from attacking the iron. What peoplecall tin plates are really _tinned_ plates. Tin itself is a soft metalthat melts and runs like lead.
As I looked through into these works, one man was busy with sheets ofrolled-out Britannia metal, thrusting them beneath a stamping press, andat every clang with which this came down a piece of metal like aperfectly flat spoon was cut out and fell aside, while at acorresponding press another man was holding a sheet, and as close aspossible out of this he was stamping out flat forks, which, like thespoons, were borne to other presses with dies, and as the flat spoon orfork was thrust in it received a tremendous blow, which shaped the bowland curved the handle, while men at vices and benches finished them offwith files.
I had seen all this before, and how out of a flat sheet of metal whatseemed like beautiful silver spoons were made; but I had never yet seena man spin a teapot, so being holiday-time, and having to wait for UncleJack, I stood looking on.
I presume that most boys know a lathe when they see it, and how, out ofa block of wood, ivory, or metal, a beautifully round handle, chess-man,or even a perfect ball can be turned.
Well, it is just such a lathe as this that the teapot spinner standsbefore at his work, which is to make a handsome tea or coffee-potservice.
But he uses no sharp tools, and he does not turn his teapot out of asolid block of metal. His tool is a hard piece of wood, something likea child's hoop-stick, and fixed to the spinning-round part of the lathe,the "chuck," as a workman would call it, is a solid block of smooth woodshaped like a deep slop-basin.
Up against the bottom of this wooden sugar-basin the workman places aflat round disc or plate of Britannia metal--plate is a good term, forit is about the size or a little larger than an ordinary dinner plate.A part of the lathe is screwed up against this so as to hold the plateflat up against the bottom of the wooden sugar-basin; th
e lathe is setin motion and the glistening white disc of metal spins round at aninconceivable rate, and becomes nearly invisible.
Then the man begins to press his wooden stick up against the centre ofthe plate as near as he can go, and gradually draws the wooden tool fromthe centre towards the edge, pressing it over the wooden block of basinshape.
This he does again and again, and in spite of the metal being cold, theheat of the friction, the speed at which it goes, and the ductility ofthe metal make it behave as if it were so much clay or putty, and in avery short time the wooden tool has moulded it from a flat disc into ametal bowl which covers the wooden block.
Then the lathe is stopped, the mechanism unscrewed, and the metal bowltaken off the moulding block, which is dispensed with now, for if thespinner were to attempt to contract the edges of his bowl, as a potterdoes when making a jug, the wooden mould could not be taken out.
So without the wooden block the metal bowl is again fixed in the lathe,sent spinning-round, the stick applied, and in a very short time thebowl, instead of being large-mouthed, is made to contract in a beautifulcurve, growing smaller and smaller, till it is about one-third of itsoriginal diameter, and the metal has seemed to be plastic, and yieldedto the moulding tool till a gracefully formed tall vessel is the result,with quite a narrow mouth where the lid is to be.
Here the spinner's task is at an end. He has turned a flat plate ofmetal into a large-bodied narrow-mouthed metal pot as easily as if thehard cold metal had been clay, and all with the lathe and a piece ofwood. There are no chips, no scrapings. All the metal is in the pot,and that is now passed on to have four legs soldered on, a hole cut forthe spout to be fitted; a handle placed where the handle should be, andfinally hinges and a lid and polish to make it perfect and ready forsomeone's tray.
I stopped and saw the workman spin a couple of pots, and then thinking Ishould like to have a try at one of our lathes, I went on past this damand on to the next, where I meant to have a friendly word with MrsGentles if her lord and master were not smoking by the door.
I did not expect to see him after hearing that he was away at work; butas it happened he was there.
For as I reached the path along by the side of the dam I found myself inthe midst of a crowd of women and crying children, all in a state ofgreat excitement concerning something in the dam.
I hurried on to see what was the matter, and to my astonishment therewas Gentles on the edge of the dam, armed with an ordinary long broom,with which he was trying to hook something out of the water--what, Icould not see, for there was nothing visible.
"Farther in--farther in," a shrill voice cried, making itself heard overthe gabble of fifty others. "My Jenny says he went in theer."
I was still some distance off, but I could see Gentles the unmistakablesplash the broom in again, and then over and over again, while womenwere wringing their hands, and giving bits of advice which seemed tohave no effect upon Gentles, who kept splashing away with the broom.
Just then a tall figure in bonnet and shawl came hurrying from the otherend of the path, and joined the group about the same time as I did.
There was no mistaking Mrs Gentles without her voice, which she soonmade heard.
"Whose bairn is it?" she cried loudly, and throwing off her bonnet andshawl as she spoke.
"Thine--it's thy little Esau--playing on the edge--got shoved in," wasbabbled out by a dozen women; while Gentles did not speak, but went onpushing in the broom, giving it a mow round like a scythe, and pullingit out.
"Wheer? Oh, my gracious!" panted Mrs Gentles, "wheer did he go in?"
Poor woman! A dozen hands pointed to different parts of the bank manyyards apart, and I saw her turn quite white as she rushed at her husbandand tore the broom from his hands.
"What's the good o' that, thou Maulkin," [scarecrow] she cried, givinghim a push that sent him staggering away; and without a moment'shesitation she stooped, tightened her garments round her, and jumpedright into the dam, which was deeper than she thought, for she wentunder in the great splash she made, losing her footing, and a dread fellupon all till they saw the great stalwart woman rise and shake the waterfrom her face, and stand chest deep, and then shoulder deep, as, sobbinghysterically, she reached out in all directions with the broom, tryingto find the child.
"Was it anywheers about here--anywheers about here?" she cried, as shewaded to and fro in a state of frantic excitement, and a storm ofaffirmations responded, while her husband, who seemed quite out of placeamong so many women, stood rubbing his head in a stolid way.
"Quiet, bairns!" shrieked one of the women, stamping her foot fiercelyat the group of children who had been playing about after childhood'sfashion in the most dangerous place they could find.
Her voice was magical, for it quelled a perfect babel of sobs and cries.And all the while poor Mrs Gentles was reaching out, so reckless ofherself that she was where the water reached her chin, and could hardlykeep her footing.
"Call thysen a man!" shouted the woman who had silenced the children."Go in or thou'llt lose thy wife and bairn too."
But Gentles paid no heed to the admonition. He stood rubbing his earsoftly, though he gave a satisfied grunt as he saw the fierce virago ofa woman who had spoken, leap in after Mrs Gentles, and wade out so asto hold her left hand.
Where had the child tumbled in? No one knew, for the frightened littleones who had spread the news, running away home as soon as theirplaymate had toppled in with a splash, were too scared to remember theexact spot.
I had not been idle all this time, but as the above scene was inprogress I had taken off jacket, vest, and cap, handing them to a womanto hold, and had just finished kicking off my boots and socks, carefullywatching the surface of the water the while, under the impression thatthe poor child would rise to the surface.
All at once I caught sight of something far to the right of us, andevidently being taken by the current towards the sluice where the bigwheel was in motion.
It might be the child, or it might only be a piece of paper floatingthere, but I had no time to investigate that, and, running along thepath till I was opposite the place, I plunged head-first in, rose, shookthe water from my eyes, and swam as rapidly as my clothes would allowtowards the spot.
The women set up a cry and the children shrieked, and as I swam steadilyon I could hear away to my left the two women come splashing and wadingthrough the water till they were opposite to where I was swimming.
"Oh, quick! Quick, my lad!" cried Mrs Gentles; and her agonised voicesent a thrill through me far more than did the shrieking chorus of thewomen as they shouted words of encouragement to me to proceed.
I did not need the encouragement, for I was swimming my best, not makingrapid strokes, but, as Uncle Jack had often shown me in river and sea,taking a long, slow, vigorous stroke, well to the end, one that is moreeffective, and which can be long sustained.
But though I tried my best, I was still some feet from the spot where Ihad seen the floating object, when it seemed to fade away, and there wasnothing visible when I reached the place.
"There! There!" shrieked Mrs Gentles; "can't you see him--there?"
She could not see any more than I could, as I raised myself as high aspossible, treading water, and then paddling round like a dog in searchof something thrown in which has sunk.
The little fellow had gone, and there was nothing for it but to dive,and as I had often done before, I turned over and went down into theblack water to try and find the drowning child.
I stayed down as long as I could, came up, and looked round amidst atremendous chorus of cries, and then dived again like a duck.
Pray, don't think I was doing anything brave or heroic, for it seemed tome nothing of the kind. I had been so drilled by my uncles in leapingoff banks, and out of a boat, and in diving after eggs thrown down inthe clear water, that, save the being dressed, it was a very ordinarytask to me; in fact, I believe I could have swum steadily on for an hourif there had been any need, a
nd gone on diving as often as I liked.
So I went under again and again, with the current always taking me ontoward the sluice, and giving way to it; for, of course, the childwould, I felt, be carried that way too.
Every time I rose there was the shrieking and crying of the women andthe prayerful words of the mother bidding me try; and had not her womanfriend clung to her arm, I believe she would have struggled into deepwater and been drowned.
I caught glimpses of her, and of Gentles standing on the bank rubbinghis ear as I dived down again in quite a hopeless way now, and, stoppingdown a much shorter time, I had given a kick or two, and was rising,when my hands touched something which glided away.
This encouraged me, and I just took my breath above water, heard thecries, and dived again, to have the water thundering in my ears.
For a few moments I could feel nothing; then my left hand touched abundle of clothes, and in another moment I was at the surface with thechild's head above water, and swimming with all my might for the side.
There was a wild shriek of excitement to greet me, and then there wasvery nearly a terrible catastrophe for finale to the scene, for, as soonas she saw that I had hold of her child, the frantic mother shook offher companion, and with a mingling of the tragic and ludicrous reachedout with the broom to drag us both in.
Her excitement was too much for her; she took a step forward to reachus, slipped into deep water, went under, and the next minute she hadrisen, snatched at me, and we were struggling together.
I was quite paralysed, while the poor woman had lost her headcompletely, and was blind by trying to save herself--holding on to mewith all her might.
Under the circumstances it is no wonder that I became helpless andconfused, and that we sank together in the deep water close now to thedam head, and then all was black confusion, for my sensations were verydifferent to what they were when I made my voluntary dives.
It was matter of moments, though, and then a strong hand gripped me bythe arm, we were dragged to the side, and a dozen hands were ready tohelp us out on to the bank.
"Give me the child," said a strange voice. "Which is the house? Here--the mother and one woman, come. Keep the crowd away."
In a confused way I saw a tall man in black take the child in his arms,and I thought how wet he would make himself; while Mrs Gentles, pantingand gasping for breath, seized me by the hand; and then they passed onin the middle of the crowd, augmented by a number of workmen, anddisappeared into the cottage I knew so well.
"What! Was it you, Uncle Jack?" I said, looking up in his grave bigeyes.
"Yes, my boy; and I only just came in time. How are you?"
"Horribly wet," I said grimly and with a shiver. Then forcing a laughas he held my hands tightly in his. "Why, you're just as bad."
"Yes, but you--are you all right?"
"Oh, yes, uncle! There's nothing the matter with me."
"Then come along and let's run home. Never mind appearances; let's getinto some dry clothes. But I should like to hear about the child."
It was an easy thing to say, but not to do. We wanted to go to Gentles'house, but we were surrounded by a dense crowd; and the next minute alot of rough men were shaking both Uncle Jack's hands and fighting onewith the other to get hold of them, while I--
Just fancy being in the middle of a crowd of women, and all of themwanting to throw their arms round me and kiss me at once.
That was my fate then; and regardless of my resistance one motherly bodyafter another seized me, kissing my cheeks roundly, straining me to herbosom, and calling me her "brave lad!" or her "bonny bairn!" or "mymahn!"
I had to be kissed and hand-shaken till I would gladly have escaped forvery shame; and at last Uncle Jack rescued me, coming to my side smilingand looking round.
"If he's thy bairn, mester," cried the virago-like woman who had helpedMrs Gentles, "thou ought to be proud of him."
"And so I am," cried Uncle Jack, laying his hand upon my shoulder.
Here there was a loud "hurrah!" set up by the men, and the women joinedin shrilly, while a couple of men with big mugs elbowed their waytowards us.
"Here, lay holt, mester," said one to Uncle Jack; "drink that--it'llkeep out the cold."
At the same moment a mug was forced into my hand, and in response to anod from Uncle Jack I took a hearty draught of some strong mixture whichI believe was gin and beer.
"How is the child?" said Uncle Jack.
"Doctor says he can't tell yet, but hopes he'll pull bairn through."
"Now, my lads," said Uncle Jack, "you don't want us to catch cold?"
"No.--Hurray!"
"Nor you neither, my good women?"
"Nay, God bless thee, no!" was chorused.
"Then good-bye! And if one of you will run down to our place and tellus how the little child is by and by, I'll be glad."
"Nay, thou'llt shake han's wi' me first," said the big virago-likewoman, whose drenched clothes clung to her from top to toe.
"That I will," cried Uncle Jack, suiting the action to the word byholding out his; but to his surprise the woman laid her hands upon hisshoulders, the tears streaming down her cheeks, and kissed him in simplenorth-country fashion.
"God bless thee, my mahn!" she said with a sob. "Thou may'st be aLunnoner, but thou'rt a true un, and thou'st saved to-day as good a wifeand mother as ever stepped."
Here there was another tremendous cheer; and to avoid freshdemonstrations I snatched my clothes from the woman who held them, andwe hurried off to get back to Mrs Stephenson's as quickly and quietlyas we could.
Quickly! Quietly! We were mad to expect it; for we had to go home inthe midst of a rapidly-increasing crowd, who kept up volley after volleyof cheers, and pressed to our sides to shake hands.
That latter display of friendliness we escaped during the finish of ourjourney; for in spite of all Uncle Jack could do to prevent it, big ashe was, they hoisted him on the shoulders of a couple of greatfurnacemen, a couple more carrying me, and so we were taken home.
I never felt so much ashamed in my life, but there was nothing for itbut to be patient; and, like most of such scenes, it came to an end byour reaching Mrs Stephenson's and nearly frightening her to death.
"Bless my heart!" she cried, "I thought there'd been some accident, andyou was both brought home half-killed. Just hark at 'em! The street'sfull, and the carts can hardly get by."
And so it was; for whenever, as I towelled myself into a glow, I peepedround the blind, there was the great crowd shouting and hurrahing withall their might.
For the greater part they were workmen and boys, all in theirshirt-sleeves and without caps; but there was a large sprinkling of bigmotherly women there; and the more I looked the more abashed I felt, forfirst one and then another seemed to be telling the story to a listeningknot, as I could see by the motion of her hands imitating swimming.
Two hours after we were cheered by the news that my efforts had not beenin vain, for after a long fight the doctor had brought the child to; andthat night, when we thought all the fuss was over, there came six greatbooms from a big drum, and a powerful brass band struck up, "See, theConquering Hero comes!" Then the mob that had gathered cheered andshouted till we went to the window and thanked them; and then theycheered again, growing quite mad with excitement as a big strappingwoman, in a black silk bonnet and a scarlet shawl, came up to the doorand was admitted and brought into the parlour.
I was horrified, for it was big Mrs Gentles, and I had a dread ofanother scene.
I need not have been alarmed, for there was a sweet natural quietness inthe woman that surprised us all, as she said with the tears running downher cheeks:
"I'm only a poor common sort of woman, gentlemen, but I think a deal o'my bairns, and I've come to say I'll never forget a prayer for the bonnyboy who saved my little laddie, nor for the true brave gentleman whosaved me to keep them still."
Uncle Jack shook hands with her, insisting upon her having a glass ofwine,
but she would not sit down, and after she had drunk her wine sheturned to me.
I put out my hand, but she threw her arms round my neck, kissed mequickly on each cheek, and ran sobbing out of the room, and nearlyoversetting Mr Tomplin, who was coming up.
"Hallo, my hero!" he cried, shaking hands with me.
"Please, please don't, Mr Tomplin," I cried. "I feel as if I'd neverdo such a thing again as long as I live."
"Don't say that, my boy," he cried. "Say it if you like, though. Youdon't mean it. I say, though, you folks have done it now."
We had done more than we thought, for the next morning when we walkeddown to the office and Uncle Jack was saying that we must not be doneout of our holiday, who should be waiting at the gate but Gentles.
"Ugh!" said Uncle Jack; "there's that scoundrel. I hate that man. Iwish it had been someone else's child you had saved, Cob. Well, myman," he cried roughly, "what is it?"
Gentles had taken off his cap, a piece of politeness very rare among hisset, and he looked down on the ground for a minute or two, and thenended a painful silence by saying:
"I've been a reg'lar bad un to you and yours, mester; but it was thetraade as made me do it."
"Well, that's all over now, Gentles, and you've come to apologise?"
"Yes, mester, that's it. I'm down sorry, I am, and if you'll tek me onagain I'll sarve you like a man--ay, and I'll feight for thee like a managen the traade."
"Are you out of work?"
"Nay, mester, I can always get plenty if I like to wuck."
"Do you mean what you say, Gentles?"
"Why, mester, wouldn't I hev been going to club to-day for money to burya bairn and best wife a man ivver hed if it hadn't been for you two.Mester, I'd do owt for you now."
"I believe you, Gentles," said Uncle Jack in his firm way. "Go back toyour stone."
Gentles smiled all over his face, and ran in before us whistling loudlywith his fingers, and the men all turned out and cheered us over andover again, looking as delighted as so many boys.
"Mr Tomplin's right," said Uncle Dick; "we've done it at last."
"No, not yet," said Uncle Jack; "we've won the men to our side and allwho know us will take our part, but there is that ugly demon to exorciseyet that they call the traade."
That night I was going back alone when my heart gave a sort of leap, forjust before me, and apparently waylaying me, were two of the boys whohad been foremost in hunting me that day. My temper rose and my cheeksflushed; but they had come upon no inimical errand, for they bothlaughed in a tone that bespoke them the sons of Gentles, and the biggerone spoke in a bashful sort of way.
"Moother said we was to come and ax your pardon, mester. It were on'ymeant for a game, and she leathered us both for it."
"And will you hev this?" said the other, holding out something in apiece of brown-paper.
"I sha'n't take any more notice of it," I said quietly; "but I don'twant any present."
"There, moother said he'd be over proud to tak it," said the younger ladresentfully to his brother.
"No, I am not too proud," I said; "give it to me. What is it?"
"Best knife they maks at our wucks," said the boy eagerly. "It's rarestoof. I say, we're going to learn to swim like thou."
They both nodded and went away, leaving me thinking that I was afterthis to be friends with the Arrowfield boys as well as the men.
They need not have put it in the newspaper, but there it was, a longaccount headed "Gallant rescue by a boy." It was dressed up in a waythat made my cheeks tingle, and a few days later the tears came into myeyes as I read a letter from my mother telling me she had read in thenewspaper what I had done, and--
There, I will not set that down. It was what my mother said, and everyBritish boy knows what his mother would say of an accident like that.
It was wonderful how the works progressed after this, and howdifferently the men met us. It was not only our own, but the men at allthe works about us. Instead of a scowl or a stare there was a nod, anda gruff "good morning." In fact, we seemed to have lived down theprejudice against the "chaps fro' Lunnon, and their contrapshions;" butmy uncles knew only too well that they had not mastered the invisibleenemy called the trade.
Patience Wins: War in the Works Page 24