Sleeping Beauty's Spindle

by Shonna Slayton

  “Is there a problem?” came a shout in her ear over the roar of the machines.

  Briar jumped. The overseer had come up from behind.

  She shook her head and busied herself with checking threads that were perfectly fine. Then out of the corner of her eye, Briar witnessed a chain reaction of threads spinning wildly and catching onto neighboring spindles. She’d never seen the like of it. Her persnickety frame had decided to practically explode.

  She raced to shut down all her frames so she could deal with the mess. The overseer stepped back and watched with a glare. Briar’s face grew hotter the longer it took her to untangle the mess. Her fingers, normally nimble, were all thumbs as she fumbled her way through the strands. For once Briar was thankful for the raucous noise of the machines as she was certain the overseer would be making disparaging comments if he could be heard. Of all days, this had to happen today.

  When she finally had all the threads lined up and connected, the overseer glanced at his watch before walking away. He shut off the power to the spinning frames as the dinner bell went and the room fell silent.

  Normally voices would rise to fill the void as the girls chatted on their way out of the room, but instead, the overseer called out, “Halt. You are all to come over here for a lesson.”

  By “over here” he meant Briar’s frame. While waiting for the operatives to gather, he read the poems Briar had attached to her frame. At Ethel’s prompting, several of the girls kept pieces of poetry stuck near the windows where the light was true, or small pieces on their frames so they could think on lovely thoughts whenever they were tempted to think only of the monotony or the drudgery of their work. Books were banned, since too many girls got engrossed in what they were reading and forgot to mind their frames, so these bits of paper were a nice compromise, and the old overseer hadn’t minded.

  She withered inside. If this lesson was long, they’d all miss dinner.

  Once everyone had gathered, the overseer cleared his throat and spoke in a high, grating voice. “This operative is working at her lowest capacity. Her head is filled with silly notions of love.” He ripped down the poem attached to her frame and held it up as evidence.

  Briar looked at her feet.

  The offending poem by Rosalie M. Janas was awfully sentimental and romantic, especially under the scrutiny of the new overseer. It was about a love being meant to be. At least, that was how Briar interpreted it. Youth who flirted with love, thinking it was blind and wouldn’t catch them, didn’t notice that love was watching and waiting for the right moment to strike. She thought of Henry kissing her hand and her face warmed.

  The overseer read the poem aloud in a mocking tone:

  Rondeau

  * * *

  Love is not blind. Ah, no! Ah, no!

  He only hides his eyes to show

  A sweet unguarded mouth left free

  To tempt his victims, while with glee

  He works them thus confusion—woe.

  * * *

  For, sure as fate, rash youth will go

  Too near that lovely Cupid’s bow,

  And none dare warn him, “Love can see!”

  “Love is not blind!”

  * * *

  Then peeping stealthily below

  His bandage, with sure aim and slow,

  Love points his darts, and, one! two! three!

  Straight to the heart of youth they flee

  And never miss their mark. Ah, no!

  Love is not blind.

  The poem seemed pathetic and not romantic at all, as read by him. He crumbled the paper and let it drop to the floor with the bits of cotton to be swept up at the end of the day. He then strode about the room ripping down the bits of poetry and articles the operatives had posted. “We will have no more of this. I’m here to ensure this room increases production no matter what.” He threw the crumpled scraps in the air. “Go!”

  The operatives scurried for the door.

  “Thanks, Briar,” someone whispered as she hurried by.

  It wasn’t my fault. Their previous overseer hadn’t had any problems with them tacking up poems. Briar glanced back at the new overseer, his eyes hidden behind tinted glasses. She had a suspicion there would be more unwelcome changes to come.

  Briar passed several girls already coming down the porch steps as she arrived at the boardinghouse for dinner. Mim and Ethel were waiting for her in the dining room, having prepared a plate for her.

  “What happened?” asked Mim.

  “New overseer, and my frame pretty much exploded in front of him. Then he made an example out of me and tore down all our inspiring articles and poems as frivolity.” Briar gobbled up her sausage and potatoes.

  Ethel crossed her arms. “This is just the thing I was talking about, Mim. You’ll hear all about it at the meeting. We are treated terribly with no recourse. If we had women overseers, perhaps something like this wouldn’t happen.”

  Mim turned her back slightly on Ethel. “You’ve got to get it together if you want to move on to Burlington. I heard your new overseer is here to pick out the best girls to train the others.”

  Briar didn’t have time to think one way or the other on Burlington. The more pressing issues right now were her bad frame and the new overseer. She’d had so much downtime lately her pay would be docked. Surely the new overseer must think she was incompetent and therefore not deserving of an extra frame, never mind a promotion.

  “I don’t know how I can win anyone’s favor if I’m stuck with that bad spinning frame.”

  “Are you sure there’s not something you’re doing to it?” Mim asked.

  Briar huffed. “Of course not. I’m running three other successful frames, aren’t I? No, it’s that frame. Something’s wrong with it. It’s got a bad spindle.” She paused. A bad spindle. The peddler had suggested she put the fairy wood spindle in her frame. If only the answer were that easy. “Henry always managed to keep it going, but ever since he left it’s gotten worse.”

  “Henry? Haven’t heard you mention that name in a while.”

  Mim’s tone rankled Briar, so she retorted, “Haven’t heard you mention Pierre much in a while, either.” Pierre had been the latest beau, but he’d stopped coming around.

  Mim closed her mouth and stood. The air between them stretched with tension.

  Miss Olive stood at the door, hands on hips and shaking her head as everyone left the house. “What has gotten into you all?” she asked. “Snippy, every one of you. Mim, Ethel, Briar, and Sadie, please come see me in the kitchen. I won’t keep you long. Briar, you can bring your plate.”

  Briar checked with her room-mates to see if they knew what Miss Olive wanted them for, but they shrugged and followed the keeper down the hallway. Maybe Sadie issued a complaint against us? Did she hear Mim talk about Wheeler and me one too many times?

  With a sick stomach, Briar followed the others into the kitchen where they all cast trepidatious looks at one another and the clock.

  Chapter 12

  Miss Olive bustled about with empty platters. “Sorry, girls, I know you don’t have much time, but I’ve got a new boarder arriving any minute, and I need to be ready for her. A space opened up for Ania at her friends’ place, so she is moving out tonight. Sadie, I know you wanted a change from your bedroom—the snoring and all that—so do you want Ania’s place with these girls here?” She turned her back to lift the boiling water off the stove and pour it into her wash basin for the dishes.

  Sadie’s eyes brightened. “Do any of you snore?” she asked.

  The three passed looks behind Miss Olive’s back. No, they didn’t, but Sadie and Briar in the same room?

  “Great,” said Sadie. “Even if one of you snores a little, it’s got to be better than the elephant I’m living with now. Haven’t had a decent night’s sleep since I moved in, and what’s worse is that she’s such a sound sleeper I can’t wake her up to tell her to stop. We’ll be great chums in no time, you’ll see.” She linked her arms throug
h Briar’s and Ethel’s but didn’t seem to notice both girls go stiff with the familiarity of the move.

  Mim just smiled and said, “Welcome to the family.”

  “Excellent,” said Miss Olive, turning around. She fanned her face, now flushed with heat and exertion. “Now, off with the lot of you before you’re late.”

  During the rush back to the mill, the mist was still so thick that Ethel’s ghostly bonnet bobbed as if on an ocean. Briar would have pointed this out to Mim for a laugh, but when she turned to say something, Mim avoided her eyes.

  With a pang of guilt, Briar realized Pierre must have been more than the usual entertainment. Could Mim’s heart be broken, too?

  Well, if the past was an indicator of the future, Mim would soon have a new love to occupy her affections. Besides, Briar had something else on her mind. How was she going to share a room with Sadie? The last thing she wanted to hear about was Sadie mooning over Wheeler. What was Miss Olive thinking? Now she’d have a room with two sets of people at odds with one another.

  “Terrible weather, ain’t it?” asked Sadie.

  Briar jumped. She’d almost forgotten they’d left at the same time.

  “Sure is.”

  “It’ll be fun being room-mates. Who did Ania share with?”

  “Mim.”

  “Too bad. If we were together, we could talk about Wheeler all night. You must be curious about him, aren’t you?” She blinked innocent eyes at Briar, which weren’t innocent at all. She was sending a message.

  Briar slowed her pace, letting Sadie flounce ahead even if it meant Briar would end up late to her station for the second time that day. Her room-mates were the best part of working at the mill. The girl before Ania had been great fun to be around, too, until she got married. And now they had to room with Sadie?

  That afternoon Briar worked as quickly and efficiently as possible, keeping track of her new doffer Maribelle, helping the young girl juggle the full bobbins that her little hands were too small to manage easily. Small hands were good for reaching in the frames to fix thread breaks and clean, but troublesome for keeping a grip on the full bobbins until they learned the proper balance.

  The overseer continuously paced the floor, setting everyone on edge. Briar fumbled through keeping her frames going, which seemed to delight her new boss. Why would her becoming a trembling wreck be the only thing that pleased him? She’d heard about bad overseers before, those who looked down on the women they managed. He must be one of those.

  As she worked, Briar’s thoughts spun back to the peddler’s cart and his solution for her problem. A wooden spindle. Could something so simple fix her frame? If only Henry were here, he would know. Plus, he wouldn’t make fun of her idea, no matter how far-fetched it was.

  She couldn’t use the drop spindle by itself to earn a living. No one sold hand-spun thread anymore. Industrialization saw to that. She paced in front of her factory frames, noting there was nothing beautiful about them. They were made from impersonal metal, powered by the loud belts overhead transferring the might of the river and steam into her hands. They made the room alive with their motion, yet not alive. They were noisy and relentless and gave her headaches more often than not.

  When she first started in the spinning room, she was fascinated how the thicker cotton strands called roving wound down to the bobbins below, pulled and twisted into thin but strong thread. The transformation happened so quickly compared to a hand spindle or even a spinning wheel. And all this by the thousands of spindles at the cotton mill. It was dizzying and exciting at first. But now, the job was monotonous. It left too much time for thinking.

  Ethel told her the looms were more interesting to care for. Whether Briar moved up in this factory, or in the new one at Burlington, the change would be welcomed.

  Briar got so caught up in her thoughts that she forgot to keep on number four, and before she knew it, threads had snapped all over the place. Not again. Plus, it was time for doffing and the girl was nowhere to be seen. Now all her frames were down as Briar quickly tied knots to fix the breaks before the overseer noticed.

  By the time she’d worked her way to the last frame, Maribelle ran in, with an excited, flushed face. Evidently it had been a good game of tag outside. The fog probably made it easy to dart away and be hidden.

  “Maribelle! Now look what you’ve done,” she snapped. “You’ve got to pay attention. I need you in here every forty-five minutes.” Even as she chastised Maribelle, Briar knew the words were meant for herself.

  Maribelle bobbed her head, staring down at her own bare feet, splotchy-black with grease. “Yes, miss.”

  “What’s going on?” The overseer was once again at Briar’s elbow. He grabbed Maribelle by the ear and squeezed.

  Maribelle went up on her toes as the overseer pulled her ear. Tears sprang to her eyes, but she didn’t cry.

  Briar instinctively reached to free Maribelle, but the overseer only squeezed harder, stepping between them. Briar’s heart groaned for the wee thing, but she took a step back, hoping he’d let Maribelle go.

  “It’s that last frame. It’s bad, is all. Let her go, please. She can help me tie the threads.”

  Maribelle caught her breath as the overseer gave her ear one last shake before releasing her. Briar fought the urge to rush to the girl’s side in case the overseer would choose to inflict more punishment.

  “You better do something about that frame or you’re out of a job,” he yelled over the other machines.

  “Yes, sir.” Briar quickly began tying threads, motioning to Maribelle to do so, too. Her heart was beating hard against her rib cage. It wasn’t her place to fix the frame. She wished she could complain about the new overseer, but who could she tell who would care and be able to do something about it?

  Once the overseer had gone, Briar mouthed, “I’m sorry,” to the girl, and with a shaking hand stroked her hair comfortingly. The wee thing was taking on a big responsibility. If the girl’s family didn’t need the money, she’d be at school with the other children. Briar resolved to strengthen her mind to the task and be easier on her young doffer. Especially in front of the overseer.

  “There now, we’re back up and running. Off you go and have some fun,” Briar said, choosing not to add another admonition to be back in time to swap out the bobbins. If she’d spoken to Pansy using the tone she’d used earlier with Maribelle, Pansy would have been blubbering tears. It didn’t help that they had to yell at one another to be heard above the din, which made tempers sound harsher than what was meant. Never mind how Pansy would have reacted to being grabbed by the overseer. Maribelle was made of sterner stuff than Briar had thought.

  Briar turned back to guard frame number four from any more mistakes when she noticed another token left in Henry’s corner. This time it was a small, heart-shaped pebble. “Henry Prince,” she whispered. “I know it’s you. How are you doing it?” Grinning, Briar added the pebble to the acorn in her pocket.

  Her whole mood changed with the latest gift. She couldn’t stop from smiling until the final bell rang.

  Instantly the girls shut down all their frames. But instead of the quiet ringing in their ears, murmurings spread like a wave through the operatives. Briar rushed to the door to find out what was going on.

  “Didn’t you hear?” asked Annie, the girl who manned the frames next to Briar’s. “Grace’s brother works in the counting house. He told her they’re lowering our wages this week. Less money in our envelopes on payday. It’s just like the panic last year. It’s getting no better. Pretty soon our pay is going to equal our rent, and then where will we be?”

  Briar closed her eyes and pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth. After working so hard to make up for her bad frame, it didn’t matter in the end. Going forward she would need four fully-working frames just to keep up her normal pay rate, never mind trying to impress anyone or earn a fifth frame. She sighed. However was a girl to get ahead in this world? She looked around at the other operatives’ sull
en faces. It was the same for all of them. Then her eyes settled on the overseer. He looked up with a scowl and met her gaze unblinking over his glasses, which slipped down his nose again.

  Use the wooden spindle.

  Briar sucked in a breath and looked away. Where did that thought come from?

  Annie made a face. “Something about cotton cloth not selling as much as they expected and the train strike causing distribution problems. Say they have to trim expenses, but I don’t see the agent cutting back on his expensive cravats. He was wearing a new one today. And look at our new overseer with a gold pocket watch! Bet his paycheck isn’t getting shorted.”

  “It’s not fair,” said another girl. “There’s nothing we can do about it. They’ll want us to work as hard as before, but get paid less just because they say so, and we don’t got no power to say no.” By now they’d streamed out onto the staircase and began to mingle with the other levels of the factory.

  Briar caught sight of Ethel. She couldn’t hear her friend over all the other voices, but Ethel was definitely passionate about what she was saying. Her arms were practically a blur as she no doubt weighed in her opinion on the pay reduction. Well, good. Ethel’s passion would carry the conversation with their new room-mate tonight. Briar was drained from the day, and not looking forward to playing polite with someone new in the room.

  If Henry were here, she could ask his opinion about putting in a wooden spindle. He’d also know how to do it. Could she trust a peddler? One trained in saying anything to make a sale?

  If the wooden spindle could absorb enough vibrations to keep her frame working, she’d at least be competing on even ground. After today, she was in danger of losing her job. Could a wooden spindle make all the difference?