Through The Fray: A Tale Of The Luddite Riots

by G. A. Henty

  Upon the following evening the servant came in and told Ned that a young woman wished to speak to him.

  He went down into the study, and, to his surprise, Mary Powlett was shown in. Her eyes were swollen with crying.

  "Master Ned," she said, "I have come to say good-bye."

  " Good-bye, Polly! Why, where are you going ?"

  " We are all going away, sir, to-morrow across the seas, to Ameriky I believe. It's all come so sudden it seems like a dream. Feyther never spoke of such a thing afore, and now all at once we have got to start. I have run all the way down from Varley to say good-bye. Feyther told me that I wasn't on no account to come down to you. ' Not on no account,' he said. But how could I go away and know that you had thought us so strange and ungrateful as to go away without saying good-bye after your dear feyther giving his life for little Jenny. I couldn't do it, sir. So when he started off to spend the evening for the last time at the ' Cow' I put on my bonnet and ran down here. I don't care if he beats me—not that he ever did beat me, but he might now—for he was terrible stern in telling me as I wasn't to come and see you."

  Ned heard her without an interruption. The truth flashed across his mind. It was Luke Marner himself who was going to America, and was going to write home to clear him. Yet surely Luke could never have done it —Luke, so different from the majority of the croppers— Luke, who had steadily refused to have anything to say to General Lud and his schemes against the masters. Mary's

  last words gave him a clue to the mystery—" Your dear feyther gave his life for little Jenny." He coupled it with Luke's enigmatical words, " A loife for a loife."

  For a minute or two he sat absolutely silent. Mary was hurt at the seeming indifference with which he received her news. She drew herself up a little, and said, in an altered voice:

  " I will say good-bye, sir. I hope you won't think I was taking a liberty in thinking you would be sorry if we were all to go without your knowing it."

  Ned roused himself at her words.

  " It is not that, Polly. It is far from being that. But I want to ask you a question. You remember the night of Mr. Mulready's murder? Do you remember whether your father was at home all that evening?"

  Polly opened her eyes in surprise at a question which seemed to her so irrelevant to the matter in hand.

  " Yes, sir," she replied, still coldly. " I remember that night. We are not likely any of us to forget it. Feyther had not gone down to the 'Cow.' He sat smoking at home. Bill had dropped in, and they sat talking of the doings of the Luddites till it was later than usual. Feyther was sorry afterwards, because he said if he had been down at the ' Cow' he might have noticed by the talk if any one had an idea that anything was going to take place."

  "Then he didn't go out at all that night, Polly?"

  " No, sir, not at all that night; and now, sir, I will say good-bye."

  " No, Polly, you won't, for I shall go back with you, and I don't think that you will go to America."

  " I don't understand," the girl faltered.

  "No, Polly, I don't suppose you do; and I have not understood till now. You will see when you get back."

  " If you please," Mary said hesitatingly, " I would rather that you would not be there when feyther comes back. Of course I shall tell him that I have been down to see you, and I know he will be very angry."

  " I think I shall be able to put that straight. I can't let your father go. God knows I have few enough true friends, and I cannot spare him and you; and as for Bill Swinton, he would break his heart if you went."

  " Bill's only a boy, he will get over it," Polly said in a careless tone, but with a bright flush upon her cheek.

  " He is nearly as old as you are, Polly, and he is one of the best fellows in the world. I know he's not your equal in education, but a steadier, better fellow, never was."

  Mary made no reply, and in another minute the two set out together for Varley. In spite of Ned's confident assurance that he would appease Luke's anger, Mary was frightened when, as they entered the cottage, she saw Luke standing moodily in front of the fire.

  " Oi expected this," he said in a tone of deep bitterness. " Oi were a fool vor to think as you war different to other gals, and that you would give up your own wishes to your feyther's."

  " Oh, feyther!" Polly cried, "don't speak so to me. Beat me if you like, I deserve to be beaten, but don't speak to me like that. I am ready to go anywhere you like, and to be a good daughter to you; forgive me for this once disobeying you."

  " Luke, old friend," Ned said earnestly, putting his hand on the cropper's shoulder, "don't be angry with Polly, she has done me a great service. I have learned the truth, and know what you meant now by a life for a life. You were going to sacrifice yourself for me. You were going to take upon yourself a crime which you never committed, to clear me. You went to York to declare yourself the murderer of Mulready, in case I had been found guilty. You were going to emigrate to America to send home a written confession."

  "Who says as how oi didn't kill Foxey?" Luke said doggedly. "If oi choose to give myself oop now who is to gainsay me?"

  " Mary and Bill can both gainsay you," Ned said. "They can prove that you did not stir out of the house that night. Come, Luke, it's of no use I feel with all my heart grateful to you for the sacrifice you were willing to make for me. I thank you as deeply and as heartily as if you had made it. It was a grand act of self-sacrifice, and you must not be vexed with Polly that she has prevented you carrying it out. It would have made me very unhappy had she not done so. When I found that you were gone I should certainly have got out from Bill the truth of the matter, and when your confession came home I should have been in a position to prove that you had only made it to screen me. Besides, I cannot spare you. I have few friends, and I should be badly off indeed if the one who has proved himself the truest and best were to leave me. I am going to carry on the mill, and I must have your help. I have relied upon you to stand by me, and you must be the foreman of your department. Come, Luke, you must say you forgive Polly for opening my eyes just a little sooner than they would otherwise have been, to the sacrifice you wanted to make for me."

  Luke, who was sorely shaken by Mary's pitiful sobs, could resist no longer, but opened his arms, and the girl ran into them,

  " There, there," he said, "doan't ee go on a crying, girl, thou hasn't done no wrong, vor indeed it must have seemed to thee flying in the face of natur to go away wi'out saying good-bye to Maister Ned. Well, sir, oi be main sorry as it has turned out so. Oi should ha' loiked to ha' cleared thee; but if thou won't have it oi caan't help it. Oi think thou beest wrong, but thou know'st best."

  " Never mind, Luke, I shall be cleared in time, I trust," Ned said. " I am going down to the mill to-morrow for the first time, and shall see you there. You have done me good, Luke. It is well, indeed, for a man to know that he has such a friend as you have proved yourself to be."

  CHAPTER XVII.

  A LONELY LIFE.

  HE machinery had not started since the death of Mr. Mulready, the foreman having received several letters threatening his life if he ven-tured to use the new machinery; and the works had therefore been carried on on their old basis until something was settled as to their future management. The first few days after his return Ned spent his time in going carefully through the books with the clerk, and in making himself thoroughly acquainted with the financial part of the business. He was assisted by Mr. Porson, who came every evening to the house, and went through the accounts with him. The foreman and the men in charge of the different rooms were asked to give their opinion as to whether it was possible to reduce expenses in any way, but they were unanimous in saying that this could not be done. The pay was at present lower than in any other mill in the district, and every item of expenditure had been kept down by Mr. Mulready to the lowest point.

  " It is clear," Ned said at last, " that if the mill is to be kept on we must use the new machinery. I was afraid it would be so, for he would never have t
aken to it and risked his life unless it had been absolutely necessary. I don't like it, for I have strong sympathies with the men, and although I am sure that in the long run the hands will benefit by the increased trade, it certainly causes great suffering at present. So if it had been possible I would gladly have let the new machinery stand idle until the feeling against it had passed away; but as I see that the mill has been running at a loss ever since prices fell, it is quite clear that we must use it at once."

  The next morning Ned called the foreman into his office at the mill, and told him that he had determined to set the new machinery at work at once.

  " I am sorry to be obliged to do so," he said, "as it will considerably reduce the number of hands at work; but it cannot be helped, it is either that or stopping altogether, which would be worse still for the men. Be as careful as you can in turning off the hands, and as far as possible retain all the married men with families. The only exception to that rule is young Swinton, who is to be kept on whoever goes."

  That evening Luke Marner called at the house to see Ned.

  " Be it true, Maister Ned, as the voreman says, the new machines is to be put to work?"

  " It is true, Luke, I am sorry to say. I would have avoided it if possible; but I have gone into the matter with Mr. Porson, and I find I must either do that or shut up the mill altogether, which would be a good deal worse for you all. Hand-work cannot compete with machinery, and the new machines will face a dozen yards of cloth while a cropper is doing one, and will do it much better and more evenly."

  " That be so, surely, and it bain't no use my saying as it ain't, and it's true enough what you says, that it's better half the hands should be busy than none; but those as gets the sack won't see it, and oi fears there will be mischief. Oi don't hold with the Luddites, but oi tell ye the men be getting desperate, and oi be main sure as there will be trouble afore long. Your loife won't be safe, Maister Ned."

  " I don't hold much to my life," Ned laughed bitterly, "so the Luddites won't be able to frighten me there."

  " I suppose thou wilt have some of the hands to sleep at the mill, as they do at some of the other places. If thou wilt get arms those as is at work will do their best to defend it. Cartwright has got a dozen or more sleeping in his mill."

  " I will see about it," Ned said, " but I don't think I shall do that. I don't want any men to get killed in defending our property."

  " Then they will burn it, thou wilt see if they doan't," Luke said earnestly.

  " I hope not, Luke. I shall do my best to prevent it anyhow."

  " Oi will give ee warning if a whisper of it gets to

  moi ears, you may be sure, but the young uns doan't say much to us old hands, who be mostly agin them, and in course they will say less now if oi be one of those kept on."

  "We must chance it, Luke; but be sure, whatever I do I sha'n't let the mill be destroyed if I can help it."

  And so on the Monday following the water-wheel was set going and the new machinery began to work. The number of hands at the mill was reduced by nearly one-half, while the amount of cloth turned out each week was quadrupled.

  The machinery had all the latest improvements, and was excellently arranged. Mr. Mulready had thoroughly understood his business, and Ned soon saw that the profits under the new system of working would be fully as great as his stepfather had calculated.

  A very short time elapsed before threatening letters began to come in. Ned paid no heed to them, but quietly went on his way. The danger was, however, undoubted. The attitude of the Luddites had become more openly threatening. Throughout the whole of the West Riding open drilling was carried on.

  The mills at Marsden, Woodbottom, and Ottewells were all threatened. In answer to the appeals of the mill-owners the number of troops in the district was largely increased. Infantry were stationed in Marsden, and the 10th King's Bays, the 15th Hussars, and the Scots Greys were alternately billeted in the place. The roads to Ottewells, Woodbottom, and Lugards Mill were patrolled regularly, and the whole country was excited and alarmed by constant rumours of attacks upon the mills.

  Ned went on his way quietly, asking for no special protection for his mill or person, seemingly indifferent to the excitement which prevailed. Except to the workmen in the mill, to the doctor, and Mr. Porson he seldom exchanged a word with anyone during the day.

  Mr. Simmonds and several of his father's old friends had on his return made advances towards him, but he had resolutely declined to meet them. Mr. Porson and the doctor had remonstrated with him.

  " It is no use," he replied. " They congratulated me on my acquittal, but I can tell by their tones that there is not one of them who thoroughly believes in his heart that I am innocent."

  The only exception which Ned made was Mr. Cart-wright, a mill-owner at Liversedge. He had been slightly acquainted with Captain Sankey; and one day soon after Ned's return as he was walking along the street oblivious, as usual, of every one passing, Mr. Cartwright came up and placing himself in front of him, said heartily:

  " I congratulate you with all my heart, Sankey, on your escape from this rascally business. I knew that your innocence would be proved. I would have staked my life that your father's son never had any hand in such a black affair as this. I am heartily glad."

  There was no withstanding the frank cordiality of the Yorkshireman's manner. Ned's reserve melted at once before it.

  " Thank you very much," he said, returning the grasp of his hand; " but I am afraid that though I was acquitted my innocence wasn't proved, and never will be. You may think me innocent, but you will find but half a dozen people in Marsden to agree with you."

  "Pooh! pooh!" Mr. Cartwright said. "You must not look at things in that light. Most men are fools, you know; never fear. We shall prove you innocent some day. I have no doubt these rascally Luddites are at the bottom of it. And now, look here, young fellow, I hear that you are going to run the mill. Of course you can't know much about it yet. Now I am an old hand and shall be happy to give you any advice in my power, both for your own sake and for that of your good father. Now I mean what I say, and I shall be hurt if you refuse. I am in here two or three times a week, and my road takes me within five hundred yards of your mill, so it will be no trouble to me to come round for half an hour as I pass, and give you a few hints until you get well into harness. There are dodges in our trade, you know, as well as in all others, and you must be put up to them if you are to keep up in the race. There is plenty of room for us all, and now that the hands are all banding themselves against us, we mill-owners must stand together too."

  Ned at once accepted the friendly offer, and two or three times a week Mr. Cartwright came round to the mill, went round the place with Ned, and gave him his advice as to the commercial transactions. Ned found this of inestimable benefit. Mr. Cartwright was acquainted

  with all the buyers in that part of Yorkshire, and was able several times to prevent Ned from entering into transactions with men willing to take advantage of his inexperience.

  Sometimes he went over with Mr. Cartwright to his mill at Liversedge and obtained many a useful hint there as to the management of his business. Only in the matter of having some of his hands to sleep at the mill Ned declined to act on the advice of his new friend.

  "No," he said; "I am determined that I will have no lives risked in the defence of our property. It has cost us dearly enough already."

  But though Ned refused to have any of his hands to sleep at the mill, he had a bed fitted up in his office, and every night at ten o'clock, after Charlie had gone to bed, he walked out to the mill and slept there. Heavy shutters were erected to all the lower windows and bells were attached to these, and to the doors, which would ring at the slightest motion.

  A cart one evening arrived from Huddersfield after the hands had left the mill, and under Ned's direction a number of small barrels were carried up to his office.

  Although three months had now elapsed since his return home he had never once seen his
mother, and the knowledge that she still regarded him as the murderer of her husband greatly added to the bitterness of his life. Of an evening after Lucy had gone to bed he assisted Charlie with his lessons, and also worked for an hour with Bill Swinton, who came regularly every evening to be taught.

  Bill had a strong motive for self-improvement. Ned had promised him that some day he should be foreman to the factory, but that before he could take such a position it would, of course, be necessary that he should be able to read and write well. But an even higher incentive was Bill's sense of his great inferiority in point of education to Polly Powlett. He entertained a deep affection for her, but he knew how she despised the rough and ignorant young fellows at Varley, and he felt that even if she loved him she would not consent to marry him unless he were in point of education in some way her equal; therefore he applied himself with all his heart to improving his education.

  It was no easy task, for Bill was naturally somewhat slow and heavy; but he had perseverance, which makes up for many deficiencies, and his heart being in his work he made really rapid progress.

  Sometimes Ned would start earlier than usual, and walk up with Bill Swinton, talking to him as they went over the subjects on which he had been working, the condition of the villagers, or the results of Bill's Sunday rambles over the moors.

  On arriving at Varley Ned generally went in for half an hour's talk with Luke Marner and Mary Powlett before going off for the night to sleep at the mill. With these three friends, who all were passionately convinced of his innocence, he was more at his ease than anywhere else, for at home the thought of the absent figure upstairs was a never-ceasing pain.

  " The wind is very high to-night," Ned said one evening as the cottage shook with a gust which swept down from the moor.

  "Aye, that it be," Luke agreed; "but it is nowt to a storm oi saw when oi war a young chap on t' coast!"

  " I did not not know you had ever been away from Varley," Ned said; "tell me about it, Luke."

  " Well, it coomed round i' this way. One of t' chaps from here had a darter who had married and gone to live nigh t' coast, and he went vor a week to see her.