Scarlet Runner

  * * *

  One by one the girls visited Mary, each imploring her to get back to business. Rose regaled Mary with stories from the “front” as Rose had started referring to their pickets.

  ‘Henry says it’s only a matter of time before he turns Horace Pickle,’ she said. ‘The poor man’s had Henry camped outside his house for a week now. They don’t give him a chance to sleep, rallying all night, making as much noise as possible. Some of the girls have taken to stopping outside his house during the day so Mrs. Pickles can’t go out.’

  Mary frowned. ‘That’s not nice.

  Rose hadn’t expected the rebuke and she pursed her lips, embarrassed as she fidgeted with her skirt.

  ‘Mary,’ said Rose. ‘You will come back soon, won’t you? You’re missed very much.’

  Rose saw herself out. Mary wanted to chase after her to tell her that her visit was wholly unsuccessful and to thank her for helping her to make up her mind. Instead she stared into the fire going over Rose’s story. All she could see was her father’s displeasure.

  A few days later Isabelle came. She brought the children with her and Mary bounced baby Sarah on her knee.

  ‘I was hoping to talk you into getting back into the saddle,’ said Isabelle as she sipped tea. Mary was uncharacteristically quiet so Isabelle continued. ‘I’m sorry I haven’t been around to see you before now. I can see perhaps I should have.’ She smiled uncertainly.

  Mary replaced her teacup on its saucer without drinking. ‘I’m sorry, Isabelle. I’m not good company. You were wise not to. I’ve had a chance to think about things. I’m not sure I can carry on.’ She wrung her hands in her lap and paid them more attention than Isabelle. ‘Oh, Isabelle! I don’t know what to do.’

  ‘Then I shall tell you what to do, Mary Bell. There’s a man in Union Street pining for you, tearing his hair out with worry. You get yourself back there and pick up where you left off and if it’s so long ago you can’t remember, it’s this: speeches, letters, pickets.’

  Isabelle’s eyes flashed. No one else had dared speak to Mary like that, they had all tip toed around on egg shells afraid she’d crumble into dust with her grief. Isabelle laid a hand on Mary’s arm.

  ‘Mary,’ she said softly. ‘Would your father really respect you now if you changed sides? It’s the wrong reason! He would have been a happy man if he could have talked you round, of course he would. But to agree with him now, just because he’s dead? You know it doesn’t make sense.’

  Mary sighed. ‘I hadn’t looked at it like that.’

  ‘That’s because grief is selfish. Help us, Mary. Help me. Please don’t make me do it on my own.’

  The baby snivelled and Isabelle stood to rock her.

  ‘Ian says Sybil is trying to match-make Archie again.’

  Mary’s skin prickled. ‘Is she?’ she sniffed. ‘Archie will have none of it.’

  ‘You’d better hope. It’s time I was off. I hope you’ll reconsider Mary.’

  Mary saw her friend off and she stood in the door as she watched Isabelle make her way along the rough road, the perambulator bumping on its narrow wheels. Isabelle’s words echoed in her head, “grief is selfish.” She clenched her hands into fists and screamed. What did Isabelle know about it? Had she lost her first love? Had she lost her own father? Couldn’t she allow Mary some self indulgent, wallowing grief? Did Isabelle think there was a time limit on mourning? Grief is selfish. Grief is selfish.

  She slammed the door behind her and ran to her room.

  * * *

  Mary knocked urgently on Sybil’s door. Her heart beat wildly in her chest. She looked around the street. A thin wisp of fog lay low over the ground, not enough to dull the sharp knock on wood. No one was up yet; she’d passed only the night cart on her way here.

  Muffled voices inside, footsteps and then the clack of the latch. The door opened to Joe, fumbling with the tie of his dressing gown. ‘Mary!’

  ‘I’d like to speak to Mrs. Wright,’ Mary stated through dry lips.

  ‘Who is it?’ It was Sybil joining Joe at the door.

  Sybil frowned. ‘Mary! What is it?’ She peered past her into the street as if the answer lay somewhere beyond.

  ‘I thought you might like to know that I will be returning to Archie’s today so there won’t be any need for you to worry about him. He loves me and together we will continue to fight.’

  She turned on her heel then paused at the step. ‘Good day to you.’

  Joe smiled until Sybil shot him a deathly look.

  As Mary approached Archie’s she could see smoke spurting intermittently from the chimney, as though Archie had just this minute lit it. She pictured him kneeling in front of the range until the fire caught hold. It calmed her. She’d been trembling when she left Joe’s and during the short walk through the back streets she’d started to regret her outburst. She hoped Archie would understand.

  She let herself in then walked through the hall and stood at the entrance to the dining room. Archie let her stand there, just stand in front of him, but she was cast. Then he stepped in to her and suddenly she fell into his arms.

  Archie swept her hair back and kissed her.

  ‘I... I...,’ Mary stuttered.

  ‘Shush,’ he said softly, kissing her again so she couldn’t talk even if she had the words.

  Then Archie broke off his kiss. ‘I’ve missed you so much, Mary. I knew you’d come back to me. They had doubts, all of them. But not me. I knew you’d come back to me.’

  ‘I missed you too,’ Mary whispered. ‘I thought I was wrong to love you, to side with you.’ Her mouth became dry. ‘But I’m not wrong. I love you too much.’ She smiled as she traced his face with her fingers. ‘I can’t change my heart.’

  * * *

  Mary was made a great fuss of on the ride into Waikino. The floor of the coach was littered with rotting vegetable scraps and eggs. Bessie explained to Mary who crinkled up her nose against the smell.

  ‘Don’t worry, love. You don’t have to be a crack shot. Stick with me.’

  Rose rolled her eyes. She clutched a bag on her lap. ‘Supplies for Henry.’

  ‘Why?’ asked Mary.

  ‘He’s sort of stopping out,’ Rose replied.

  Mary frowned. ‘Still?’

  Rose squeezed her mouth into a tight line. ‘Better him than us.’

  Mary could hear the banter of picketers before the coach drew up. William and Floyd were there already and William greeted Mary with a pat on the back.

  ‘Good to see you, lass. Sorry about your Da.’

  Mary surveyed the scene; things had progressed in her absence. There were many more women, all armed with sticks, placards and rotten vegetables.

  ‘We’re going to picket the railway station after this,’ Meg said to Mary. ‘You coming?’

  Mary frowned. ‘The railway?’

  Meg plunged her placard high in the air as men walked past. ‘Aye. There’s so many leaving the town. They’re weakening our position. They should be stopped.’

  Mary slowly shook her head. ‘Not this time, Meg.’

  A flurry of activity in the distance disturbed them. Men were following up some workers. Henry was one of them shouting obscenities and slogans. The man in his firing line was still Horace Pickles who trudged head down, hat pulled over his eyes, to join the thickening pool of workers. Rose ran to greet Henry and flung some cabbage leaves on the ground right in front of Horace. Then an egg was thrown, carefully aimed to splatter the ground in front of Horace. It barely missed Rose.

  Mary winced. Rose had warned her things had got a bit more lively. Still, as long as no laws were broken.

  Discussion on the ride home was the rumour of a shooting in the town last night.

  ‘I didn’t hear anything,’ said Rose.

  ‘Probably a rabbiter,’ said Mary. ‘No rabbit is safe at the moment.’

  The women laughed.

  Garrick dropped them off at the railway station just outside town and Mary rode
on until Garrick reached the stables. ‘Do you want a lift, Miss Bell?’ asked Garrick.

  Mary laughed. ‘Ah no, Mr. Binnie. Although it would be very nice. I’d better walk from here.’

  ‘I’m sure your Archie knows, miss,’ Garrick replied.

  Mary’s heart missed a beat and she felt her face redden. ‘Oh.’

  Garrick tipped his hat to her as she left.

  Mary glanced ahead to Archie’s where smoke puffed from the chimney. On impulse she bent into Mrs. Pearson’s front garden and picked some daffodils.

  Fanny greeted Mary at the door. She held the flowers out to the little girl who shyly took them and ran inside.

  Archie was at the table surrounded by sheets of printed paper and volumes of the Federation magazine.

  ‘Ah, the early bird,’ said Archie.

  Mary looked at her shoes. ‘You know then?’

  Archie took hold of her hands and squeezed them. ‘I do. And I think I know how long this has been going on. Why didn’t you tell me?’

  Mary shrugged. ‘Are you mad at me?’

  ‘Why should I be mad at you?’

  ‘I thought you might not like me doing that sort of thing.’

  He laughed. ‘And what would you do if I didn’t?’

  Mary pushed him playfully on his chest. ‘I might have taken some notice.’

  ‘Or more likely ignored me altogether, Mary Bell,’ he said. Archie couldn’t keep the smile out of his voice and his chocolate eyes danced all over Mary’s face.

  ‘So?’ asked Mary.

  ‘Do I mind?’

  ‘Stop playing with me Archie. Do you mind me picketing or not?’

  Archie twiddled with his moustache. ‘I think I’m proud of you,’ he declared.

  ‘Good!’ Mary walked into the kitchen and Archie followed.

  ‘There’s been a development,’ said Archie. ‘The Thames miners are on strike.’

  ‘That’s good.’

  Archie looked grim. ‘No, it’s not. Seems they employed a Waihi engine driver who apparently joined the Thames Union before he started work, but all hell broke loose when the Thames men decided they didn’t like it.’

  ‘Do we know who it is?’ asked Mary.

  Archie drew in a big breath before he answered. ‘Sam.’

  Chapter Nineteen

  Sam returned to Waihi by train having virtually been run out of the Thames. He was painstakingly honest with the mine manager when he joined the Thames Miners’ Union. Sam relinquished his Waihi Engine Driver Union membership in favour of the Thames Miners’ Union, where he was to be employed as a battery hand at the Sylvia Mine up the Tararu.

  Why his past should affect his ability to put in a fair day’s work was quite beyond him, but when the men learned of his Waihi connection they declared a ‘holiday’ so that certain matters could be discussed. This put about forty men out of work.

  That was the last thing Sam wanted. Just like suddenly being the head of the family was the last thing he wanted. He shouldn’t have done it. They’d warned him and he went right ahead and did it anyway. And they were right. Before Gerald died he’d been thinking he might leave Waihi and go to sea; operate boilers on ships. It would have made it easier on the family. But not now. He couldn’t leave his mother and Mary to fend for themselves. Now he wasn’t so sure. It seemed he couldn’t do right for doing wrong.

  Bartie Gilliespie met Sam off the train. ‘You better lie low for a while, son,’ said Bartie hustling Sam quickly off the platform. ‘Where in blazes did you get such a crazy idea?’

  Sam trudged ahead, his duffel bag slung over one shoulder.

  ‘I could’a saved you the trouble, lad,’ Bartie continued. ‘I’da told you not to go.’

  Sam barely lifted his head to reply. ‘I just want to work.’

  ‘We all do!’ Bartie pulled back. ‘We all do, son, but the fact of the matter is we’re all in this together. The miners are in this together and we’re in this together. No one likes a renegade.’ Bartie smiled. ‘You sure stirred things up.’

  Sam finally broke a smile. ‘I did, didn’t I?’

  They walked on avoiding the main street until they came to a stone wall. Sam threw his duffel bag up and climbed on top. Bartie joined him, lit a cigarette and passed it to Sam.

  ‘What should I do now, Bartie? I had to resign from the Engine Drivers’ Union to join the Thames one and now I can’t work there. He exhaled a ring of smoke. ‘Can’t work anywhere.’

  Bartie took the cigarette and drew in a lungful while he thought. ‘Well I guess you’re still a locked out engine driver,’ he said. ‘We better get you registered.’

  ‘Thanks, Bartie.’

  Bartie jumped off the wall. ‘If you get any more of those half baked ideas you come and see me first. You hear?’

  ‘I will, Bartie. Thanks.’

  * * *

  William sent the children outside instructing the boys to keep an eye on their sister. It was the last day of the school holidays. Jack had spent a bit of time with Percy lately, behind William’s back. Percy seemed to need Jack more now, since his father died. But Jack hadn’t been brave enough to ask him back to the tree hut. With Percy’s father gone it was sort of like they weren’t on opposite sides anymore.

  Jack watched the strike committee arrive. He thought they all looked older than their years; older than they had at the beginning of the strike anyway.

  William called the meeting to start, unaware that Jack sat with his back to the wall underneath the dining room window casually peeling an orange as he eavesdropped.

  He cut straight to the point. ‘I think the company is going to open the mine with scab labour.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ asked Archie.

  ‘George Graham’s been to Waihi,’ William explained. ‘The man implied that the Goldmine Owners’ Association would allow the employment of miners not registered with a union.’

  ‘What?’ Ian couldn’t believe it. ‘They can’t do that.’

  ‘What they’re saying is that they will eventually come to some agreement with a union registered under the Arbitration Act...’

  ‘Us,’ said Buster.

  ‘No. We’re registered under the Trade Unions Act, which we are perfectly entitled to do. The point is that while the company employs scabs it won’t see any urgency to negotiate with us.’

  ‘Could he be bluffing?’ asked Garrick.

  ‘Why would he do that?’ asked Archie.

  Garrick shrugged.

  ‘I’m worried about the increased police,’ said Archie. ‘It’s no wonder all the newspapers are against us when the government’s sent so many coppers in to crush us.’

  ‘We are the enemies of order,’ quoted Floyd. ‘That’s what Massey’s calling us.’

  ‘Unfairly,’ said Leonard. ‘I haven’t had a dust-up yet. Have you Buster?’

  Buster grinned.

  ‘Well there’s going to be yet another place to picket,’ said William. ‘The company is resuming work on the transmission line from Horahora.’

  The men groaned. The Waihi Goldmining Company was so powerful an entity that it alone had the capacity to provide electricity to the town. Power was to be connected to the mines but not to the main street or residences.

  William continued. ‘About thirty members have gone to Waikino already, to try to persuade the transmission line workers to cease work.’

  ‘There have been strong pickets at Waikino from the beginning,’ said Archie.

  Ian nodded. ‘Aye, that’s right. The evening ones have got a bit more intimidating. Some workers are being followed all the way to their homes. Our men have been more or less barricading them in all night and then following them back to the mine the next morning.’

  Archie slumped in his seat. ‘Good lord.’

  ‘Don’t worry, I don’t think your Mary is one of them.’

  Archie wiped his brow. ‘Even so. It’s serious. These extra police,’ he said. ‘It’s a tactic to entice us to disturb t
he peace. Why else would they send so many? We haven’t acted illegally at all. Even following someone home on public land and sitting outside on the street all night is not illegal. We are not trespassing and we are not touching a man.’

  Ian agreed. ‘You’re right Archie. We need to instruct our members to exercise restraint. The minute someone does the wrong thing the whole picket would be behind him, and be hanged with the consequences.’ He turned to William. ‘Call a mass meeting.’

  * * *

  Garrick was having a drink at the back of the stables with Leonard and Buster when the bailiff delivered a summons.

  ‘Are you Garrick Binnie?’ asked the man.

  Garrick laughed. ‘Fred! You know it’s me.’

  Fred shoved a piece of paper in front of Garrick’s face so he was forced to accept it. Then he did the same to Leonard and Buster.

  Garrick refused to accept it as anything more than a joke. ‘Are you serious, Fred?’

  Fred stood back before he answered. ‘Come on now, lad. You know I’m only the bailiff. I don’t write what’s on it. But do me a favour; read it before you tear it up.’

  Garrick clicked. ‘Ah! So other men have torn theirs up. All right.’

  The men read their notices. It was alleged that their following up tactics were calculated to cause breaches of the peace. Their cases would be heard on Wednesday.

  ‘What do you say to that, boys?’ asked Garrick.

  They grinned as they tore the papers to shreds.

  * * *

  There was standing room only in the courthouse. Justice Bellworthy entered as the court was called to stand. Fifty miners had been summoned and Justice Bellworthy intended to deal with them en masse. People shoved and pushed as they craned to get a good view of His Worship. There was whispering behind hands and crying babies.

  Justice Bellworthy called for calm. ‘This is a court of law,’ he began. ‘I understand that the law courts are as unfamiliar to you as a goldmine is to me.’ He smiled, hoping to put the men at ease. ‘In this court you may not speak unless I direct it. This is not a meeting in the Miners’ Union Hall.’