When the men reached the mine the rowdy protesters retreated and wandered into town. They were primed; it was hard to disband. Anyway, the dynamics were changing. They needed to show the town that they were a force to be reckoned with.
Jack met Percy at the corner of Jack’s street and the two went and sat in the tree house, which was now littered with plum blossom.
‘So how was it?’ asked Percy.
Jack was bubbling. ‘It was great. The dirty scabs. We showed ‘em.’
‘Did you call them scabs?’
‘Course,’ Jack replied. ‘And black legs. There were lots of police. We’re not supposed to goad them else we’ll end up in gaol but the women do. I don’t care if they throw me in gaol.’
‘Was my sister there?’
‘Nah.’
Percy was relieved. He threw the ladder down. ‘I’d better get to school.’
‘You could come with me this afternoon, Perce,’ Jack called.
Percy hesitated. In their uneasy peace they’d avoided the subject of sides. For a while Percy thought they could avoid it forever.
‘I don’t think so, Jack,’ Percy muttered. ‘I’ll see you after school?’
Jack shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
* * *
By the time Mary reached the mine entrance hundreds of picketers had already gathered and so had the police. The knock off hooter hadn’t sounded but the crowd was shouting and shoving near the gate. Mary wandered up, her placard high above her head.
‘What’s it like sleeping with a dirty scab?’ shouted a female demonstrator at a woman who waited for her husband.
‘Did you ask your mother what it was like sleeping with her brother?’ the woman retorted, much to the delight of the crowd.
The hooter sounded and presently the workers emerged, scruffy and weary. A roar went through the crowd and they shuffled into loose columns either side of the workers procession.
‘Don’t be a traitor to your cause,’ Mary shouted. ‘Unity or nothing.’
Suddenly Mary was pushed from behind and she found herself between the strike breakers and the demonstrators. The woman who had been waiting for her husband and was now in the procession took exception and hit out at Mary with her umbrella.
Mary received a thwack on her arm as well as a barrage of insults from the woman.
‘Get on home you maggot Federationist. You’re killing this town, you stupid cow!’ The woman spat landing it on Mary’s blouse.
Mary riled against her and shoved the woman with her placard. The followers became frenzied while screaming encouragement. Then a mounted policeman broke through the demonstrators, his horse’s hooves instilling fear. ‘That’s enough,’ he shouted whipping out his baton.
But the crowd wouldn’t be silenced. ‘That cat’s bum started it,’ yelled Bessie. ‘Hit Mary with her umbrella she did.’
The policeman grinned.
The woman quickly refuted the accusation. ‘She rushed at me and charged into it.’
‘You’re misguided,’ yelled Mary as the procession kept moving. ‘Listen to me. You’re weakening our bargaining power. We are striking for you.’
The followers pushed her along, more horses now mixed in with them, hooves landing indiscriminately. As the procession reached town Mary peeled off to walk back to Archie’s. Away from the demonstrators she realised she was trembling. She stretched her arm and it ached dully.
She dumped her placard inside Archie’s front gate then tried to smooth her skirt and blouse before she went inside.
‘Mary!’
She removed her hat releasing her long golden hair.
Archie rushed to her. ‘What happened? Here. Sit down and tell me what happened.’
Mary flopped down and rolled up her sleeve. Across her forearm was a red welt, swelling fast. She winced.
‘I was struck with an umbrella.’
‘By a miner?’
‘No. A miner’s wife.’
‘Did the police do anything?’
‘No. They seemed to think it was a great joke.’
Archie put a damp cloth on Mary’s arm. As he knelt next to her he threaded her loose hair behind her ears.
‘Oh Mary,’ he whispered. ‘I shouldn’t have let you go. It’s too dangerous now.’
She shook her head. ‘I’m fine. I didn’t expect it, that’s all. I’ll be better prepared next time.’
‘Next time!’ Archie boomed. ‘If you were my wife I’d forbid it.’
‘And I’d ignore you.’
Archie didn’t let Mary see his tight smile. ‘Ian brought news while you were gone. The Federation has asked other unions to down tools for twenty four hours in protest at the gaoling. That’s good as long as they stick to twenty four hours. The Federation has no money to fund more strikes.’
Mary took Archie’s hand. ‘Archie, what’s going to happen?’
Archie sighed deeply.
‘We still have support,’ he said. ‘The Federation, Australian unions, the New Zealand Socialist party.’
‘But we’re the battlefront, Archie. I feel like I’m a pawn in a much larger game. And I do understand the war but the battle is here in Waihi.’
‘It’s surprising to me that the scabs and the rest of the town are so vehemently opposed to us. ‘With the influx of scab labour there’s been an increase in hostility, especially at the hall. And that’s even before the strike breakers started work.’
‘Cockroaches,’ said Mary.
‘What?’
‘That’s what the company supporters are being called,’ she explained. ‘You know, borough workers and business owners.’
Archie shook his head sadly. ‘They don’t understand.’
‘They’re hurting.’
‘I put this debacle squarely on the shoulders of the Minister of Labour,’ Archie said. ‘How could he possibly register the engine drivers when the Auckland union voted to essentially let them in as theirs? For that’s what happened. It’s almost as though he pre-empted the Auckland decision and when it was too late he couldn’t face the mistake. There needs to be an enquiry, Mary, when this is over. A government enquiry, and heads should roll.’
‘I agree with you, sweetheart,’ said Mary. ‘And in the meantime we fight a battle which is becoming increasingly agitated. I can see the company is filling all your jobs with scab labour and there’ll be no jobs for our men to go back to.’ She rubbed her face. ‘Good grief, the scabs even have their own union now. It’s getting rather messy.’
Archie kissed Mary’s hand. ‘Forget today, darling,’ he said. ‘Let’s get you cleaned up. Can’t have you going home to your mother looking like a prize wrestler.’
Chapter Twenty Five
A week later Mary was back in the picket line, which had by now taken on a life of its own. No longer were the followers content to escort the strike bearers to and from the mine and dumbly chant what was written on their placards. The insults and jeering began the minute the men assembled for work all the way to the mine entrance. Women threw eggs and stones but were never arrested even though the police presence was omnipotent. As before, when the procession arrived back in town Mary peeled off.
‘Where are you going?’ yelled Bessie.
‘Home. Why?’
‘Come with us,’ Bessie replied. ‘We’re following Charlie Brimblecomb home.’
‘What for?’ asked Mary.
‘So we can have a conversation about unions,’ Bessie screeched. She did not stop for Mary, who let Bessie walk on.
In the street ahead Mary noticed some of the scabs assembled outside the Miners’ Union Hall. They appeared to be taunting the strikers. She hesitated for a minute, trying to decide whether to go straight home or to see what the fuss was about. She edged closer and saw that Dardar was in his usual spot. She went and sat with him.
‘What’s this then?’ she asked, not taking her eyes off the menacing crowd.
Dardar slowly looked in that direction then at Mary’s placard. Busy b
ody women, he thought. Always telling a man how they should live their lives. Dardar had never forgiven the whole of female civilisation for turning his town dry, putting him out of business.
‘They’re itching for a fight,’ he said.
‘The Arbitrationists?’ asked Mary.
‘Both,’ Dardar replied.
‘I don’t want to fight,’ said Mary. She squinted through the shop window behind her. ‘Is Rose in?’
Dardar shook his head and gazed at the assembly.
Mary groaned. ‘Oh. She’s not at the hall!’
‘She’s with that miner of hers,’ said Dardar.
‘Well, I’d better be going home. Tell Rose I called.’
Dardar grunted.
Mary turned her back on the commotion and walked along the main street. As she passed the doctor’s surgery Dr. Dartford assailed her.
‘Miss Bell,’ he said. ‘I wonder if I might have a word.’ He held the door to his rooms open. ‘Would you mind?’
He came straight to the point. ‘I really must ask you to stop following people. It’s very distressing to their health.’
‘Is it?’ Mary was surprised at this. She hadn’t noticed any ill-effects on the men she followed to and from the mine. And even her brother took it in his stride.
Dr. Dartford continued. ‘Mr. Plumtree, an official at the court, has of late been the subject of intense following up by you ladies.’
‘Go on,’ said Mary.
‘The fact is Mr. Plumtree was getting over a nasty attack of influenza when he became the subject of some rather vociferous women, and he has suffered a relapse. Poor Mr. Plumtree felt so threatened that he has had to arm himself to protect his wife and children.’
Mary tried to speak but the doctor didn’t pause to draw breath.
‘Miss Bell, I can see no reason for this riotous behaviour. In fact, as you are probably well aware, Mrs. Plumtree has on many occasions helped organise concerts in aid of the miners’ benevolent fund. You must speak to Mr. Wright. Please instruct the union to stop this disgraceful behaviour. I fear that a citizen’s force may have to be formed to control the conduct of your ladies.’
‘It’s not me, Dr. Dartford!’
‘That is exactly why I am appealing to you,’ he said. ‘And you do have the ear of the union.’
‘I’m sorry to hear of the Plumtree’s plight,’ said Mary. ‘It seems quite beyond the call of duty, as it were. I will speak to Archie.’
The doctor opened the door and quickly shut it door behind her.
Slowly Mary walked home with the dawning realisation that she had no say over half of what was happening in the town.
* * *
Archie and Mary presented at the gate at Mt Eden gaol where the sentry recognised them.
‘I hear things aren’t going too well for you,’ the guard said.
Mary bristled. ‘It’s just a bridge to cross.’
The sentry called for a guard who then escorted them to the visiting room. Mary shivered. Six weeks into spring and this place still stank of damp and human waste. The coughs of inmates rattled through the corridors.
William was brought to the barred window and Mary startled. He looked weathered, greyer. Perhaps his face had taken on the hue of the rock walls. She smiled, disguising her shock.
Archie cut straight to business. ‘You know the Federation asked unions to go out for twenty four hours. Palmerston North Flaxmill Workers went out and each man donated one day’s pay. The Dunedin Watersiders’ Union failed to strike. There was a ballot on whether to break with the Federation and it was so close they ended up taking a secret ballot. In the end they decided to stay but it got in the way of our cause. Consequently they voted against going out in support.’
William drew his mouth into a tight line and cussed.
Archie continued. ‘The Auckland Borough Council is all over the show. Drainage board workers, quarrymen, Harbour Board workers, refuse collectors; some turning up for work and some not.’
‘Every few days more of our men are coming in,’ said William. ‘I know things are getting heated.’ He addressed Mary. ‘I want to thank you and your friends for the work you’re doing.’
Mary pulled her jacket tightly around her. ‘Not at all.’
‘I hear you were involved in a scuffle,’ William said.
Archie put a warm hand around Mary’s waist. ‘She was indeed.’
William sighed. ‘I get most of the news, as long as men keep getting sent down. But it’s the business end I only get from you.’
‘Aye, well, it’s a pity you can’t have a paper,’ said Archie. ‘The company makes sure a positive slant is put in the papers. Hector Fryer’s putting a good light on production. He says they’re crushing three hundred tons of ore a day, and they’re going to have to put three shifts on when the tonnage gets to four hundred tons.’
William whistled. ‘There are that many men willing to work?’
‘There are,’ said Archie.
‘And they’ve got the energy at the end of their shift to goad the strikers at the hall,’ added Mary. ‘Quite unbelievable.’
‘Where to from here?’ asked William.
‘We’re going to do some canvassing for support while we’re in Auckland,’ Archie explained. ‘Picketing goes on. Ian’s working on the Federation, constantly making sure we are one hundred percent in its sights. If they drop the ball we’re in trouble.’
William reached a cool hand through the bars. ‘Thanks for coming.’
Outside Mary blinked in the harsh light. She shivered involuntarily.
‘I forgot to tell him about Jack,’ she said.
‘He’ll know all about Jack,’ Archie replied as he took Mary’s hand.
‘Archie, let’s have lunch on Mt Eden hill. It’s a lovely day and we can walk from here.’
Archie gazed at the hill. He’d never been up there before. ‘That’s a splendid idea.’
The air was still and the sun warm on their backs as they followed the meandering sheep track to the summit. Mary threw her arms wide and twirled, offering her face to the sun. She laughed. ‘Oh, Archie. It’s another world. Look!’ She ran to the crater’s edge and looked into the soft depression, dotted with sheep. Then she turned to admire the city bound by the Auckland Harbour.
Archie slipped alongside and gathered her into him. He tipped her face to meet his and kissed her until she melted, her knees so weak she had to sit on the grass.
‘This is an unexpected diversion,’ Archie murmured, unable to release Mary from his embrace. She gently pushed him away.
‘I’ve something for you,’ she said coyly fishing inside her jacket. She pulled her clenched fist out and took it to her mouth where she blew warm breath on it. ‘I’ve had it for a while but the moment never seemed right, and this is lovely and it’s just like...’
Archie kissed her and wrapped her small fist in his. ‘Then why don’t you give it to me and stop talking, my beautiful wife to be.’
She let the locket slip into his hand. He smiled as he opened it and out sprang a beautifully coiled lock of golden hair. He gasped then kissed Mary again.
‘It’s beautiful, my love,’ he whispered.
‘And so are you, Archie,’ she whispered back. ‘You make me so happy. My life has no meaning without you.’
‘Nor mine without you.’
Mary cast off her hat and lay back on the grass. She smiled shyly. Soon he was exploring her, his hands tentatively roving over her hills and valleys, negotiating white cambric underskirts. His fingers looked clumsy over the lace. He kissed her, tasting her lips, her throat. She thrilled at the warmth of his breath as he moved lower. Mary stirred at his touch, embarrassed at his obvious desire for her and hers for him.
‘It’ll be all right, my love,’ he whispered. ‘I won’t hurt you. On our wedding night, I mean.’
She sat up, her heart thumping, and face flushed. She toyed with her hair and set her hat back on. She stroked Archie’s face.
‘Perhaps we should get going,’ she said.
Archie jumped to his feet and straightened his suit then helped Mary up. He tucked the locket into his pocket then briskly kissed her on the mouth.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘One day, my love, you shall have days filled with special moments, I promise. But for now we have work to do.’
They descended the hill via the rough track and caught a cab to the centre of the city which bustled with horse drawn carriages and shoppers. Archie had arranged to meet with the secretary of the Federation of Labour, Richard Burnside, who was in Auckland standing in for Ernie Hardcastle, who in turn was busy garnering support in Christchurch.
Richard had assembled several ex-Waihi strikers to picket workers around Auckland city. Today the target was a number of men putting down woodblocks in Fort Street.
Archie and Mary caught up with the men who were badgering the workmen asking them to put down their tools. But the workmen stuck to their guns, every so often pausing in their work to argue with the strikers.
At lunch the arguments became more heated and police were called to control the growing crowd of spectators. Finally the foreman called the workers back to work and the crowd cheered. Mary was sombre but Richard remained upbeat.
‘It’s all good press,’ he explained.
‘Yes, but I’d rather like to think we had made our point clearly enough as to encourage a stopwork,’ Mary replied.
‘A war is but many small battles, Miss Bell,’ Richard answered.
‘Indeed it is,’ Mary muttered as she squeezed Archie’s hand. ‘Indeed it is.’
* * *
Mary and Archie arrived in Waihi by the late train and said their goodbyes at the station. Archie would pick up the children from Clara’s before walking the back streets home.
Mary walked to the Strawbridge house. She wanted to tell the children how their father was doing, and she felt a bit guilty at forgetting to tell William how they were coping without him. As she approached William’s house a dark figure emerged and this time she recognised him in the poor light.
‘Percy!’ Mary called as he scaled the front fence, throwing an empty basket on the ground ahead of him.
‘What are you doing?’ she asked.