Scarlet Runner

  But some factions still fought. Jack received a split lip and the blood that poured from it made his injury look worse than it was. He tore through the doors of the stable followed by a possie of scabs brandishing batons.

  Behind him a policeman witnessed the chase and placed his mount at the door of the stable where the scabs continued to scream obscenities at the boy.

  ‘Hand over your weapons,’ the policeman demanded.

  Reluctantly the offenders complied.

  ‘All of them,’ he said.

  Two of the men produced revolvers and the policeman made them empty the barrels onto the ground before taking them. ‘Go!’

  Jack peered through the door. The policeman was driving them away. Jack wiped his face and bolted for home, not stopping until he reached the safety of the tree hut.

  * * *

  Mary tended Archie. Bruises already showed on his arms, legs and body where he’d taken the full force of batons.

  ‘We didn’t stand a chance,’ Mary lamented as she dabbed tea tree water on his body.

  Archie winced. ‘Lucky it was only batons. They’ve got revolvers.’

  ‘I know. That surprised me. I thought the strikers more or less had the monopoly on the town supply.’

  ‘They’ve been planning this a while,’ Archie agreed. ‘It takes time to get so many men armed.’

  He stroked Mary’s arm. ‘I’m sorry, darling.’

  Mary smiled sadly. ‘It’s not your fault, Archie Wright. You have nothing to be sorry about.’ She pulled his shirt down and kissed him lightly on the lips. ‘How does it feel?’

  Archie stretched his arms. ‘A bit stiff, but I’m good.’ He forced a smile.

  ‘The whole thing was witnessed you know,’ said Mary. ‘The police commissioner and the Minister for Mines cannot deny what happened.’

  Archie shook his head slowly. ‘But what will be their version of the truth? The police commissioner is contemptible. He was complicit in the police actions, Mary.’

  ‘Then there must be a separate government enquiry. They cannot get away with this.’

  ‘When this is all over,’ said Archie. ‘We must make sure that happens.’

  ‘Oh we will, don’t worry. We will.’

  * * *

  The strike committee met at Archie’s.

  Garrick wrung his cap in his hands. ‘Christ, Archie. It’s a battleground out there.’

  Archie lifted his head from the paperwork he was buried in.

  ‘What now?’ he asked.

  Ian explained. ‘The scabs have a list of Federationists’ names and those on the list are targeted for vigilante action. They’re forming mobs and targeting us, laying whole families under siege.’

  ‘And they’ve got licence to thieve from our houses,’ said Buster. ‘When I got home yesterday our house was in a state, stuff spilled out everywhere. The police sanction it. You can’t tell them.’

  Archie slowly drew breath. ‘We’re all on the list of course.’

  Ian handed Archie a telegram. ‘Jim wants us to go to Wellington for a Federation conference.’

  ‘Both of us can’t go,’ said Archie.

  ‘I agree,’ said Ian. ‘I’ll go. You’re too battered yet. But Isabelle...’

  ‘Mary can stay with her,’ said Archie.

  ‘The hall is being targeted by the Arbitrationists,’ said Garrick. ‘The tables have completely turned. We’re outnumbered but we’re defending the hall at all times. The scabs are relentless.’ He swept his hands through his hair. ‘There’s been no call for peace on their side. And I’ll be ready for ‘em when they strike.’

  ‘I want the Monday picket called off,’ said Archie. ‘At least until some order is restored. William needs to be told.’

  ‘Buster and I can tell him,’ said Leonard.

  ‘Take Jack with you,’ Archie replied. ‘The boy’s running amok. He might listen to his father. I don’t want to be responsible for him getting hurt.’

  Archie walked the men to the door. ‘Can you send Mary around? And don’t worry, Ian. She’ll look after Isabelle.’

  Archie tidied up then put a kettle of water on the range while he waited for Mary.

  The frown on her face told him the boys had conveyed the worst of the news. She ran to him and held him tight.

  ‘Archie. ‘Ian says you’re in danger. Or should I say, more danger.’

  ‘Hey, hey, darling.’ Archie held her at arm’s length and stroked her hair. ‘Not so dramatic. I’m fine.’

  ‘Don’t be a martyr, Archie. Look at you, black and blue, the living daylights already beaten out of you.’

  ‘They were never going to kill me.’

  ‘How can you be so sure? It’s only the crowd that prevented it.’

  ‘Ian has to go away for a couple of nights; to Wellington. Could you stay with Isabelle?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Archie wrung his hands. ‘I need to ask a favour.’

  ‘What is it?’

  ‘Could you take Fanny and Thomas with you? I really do need to be out with my men.’

  Mary smiled and repeated softly. ‘My men. I suppose a general needs to be seen leading from the front.’ Then a thought worried her. ‘But if they know you’re alone, you’ll be a bigger target than ever, Archie.’

  She paced the room. ‘I don’t know. I’m not sure it’s a good idea.’

  ‘Mary, no one will target a house with only women and children,’ Archie said. ‘Everyone will know Ian is away and I’m asking you to go to give Ian peace of mind.’

  ‘I’m not worried for myself,’ Mary reproached him. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt. More hurt.’

  ‘Then do as I ask. Please.’

  Mary squeezed her mouth into a tight line. ‘If you wish.’

  Archie breathed a sigh of relief.

  ‘You have a most charitable view of women if you think they won’t attack other women,’ she teased. ‘Have you learnt nothing from the picket lines?’

  Mary walked into the kitchen and opened the top cupboard. She stretched her fingers along the shelf until she felt the cloth. She handed it to Archie, who unwrapped a corner. He frowned.

  ‘You’ll need this,’ she said.

  Archie fixed his eyes on Mary’s, silently asking her to explain.

  ‘From Isabelle,’ Mary explained simply. She walked into the children’s bedroom and threw some clothes into a case. ‘I suppose Ian will take the morning train. I’ll pick the children up first thing.’ She turned to Archie who stood in the door way. ‘Do you think it’s safe for you to sleep alone here?’

  ‘If I don’t they’ll burn the house down,’ he replied.

  ‘No!’

  Archie nodded. ‘There have been threats. It’s not just the hall they’ve threatened to burn down.’

  ‘God, this is awful.’

  Mary snapped the suitcase shut then hurried past Archie.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  ‘To see that Clara is safe,’ Mary replied. ‘I’ll get Rose to stay with her. I had no idea things had got so bad. There are a lot of women and children on their own, what with their husbands in gaol. I’ll keep Fanny home from school. It’s not safe for her.’

  Mary hugged Archie and dashed off.

  * * *

  Although the Federationists didn’t picket the scabs at knock off there was still a heavy police presence to escort the workers home. Archie braced himself for another tirade against the strikers at the hall.

  ‘Here they come,’ Garrick shouted. He patted his jacket pocket, reassured by the feel of hard metal.

  ‘Hide your batons men,’ Archie yelled. ‘We are not the instigators. Use your weapons only to defend yourselves.’

  The scabs drew closer and a bunch of about fifty men took up positions in front of the hall yelling obscenities while police milled around the outside, viewing the confrontation as entertainment. A slanging match ensued but no side made any attempt to move. The stand-off lasted until dark
when the antagonists were reduced to about thirty. They would camp out all night harassing the occupants of the hall.

  The first of the strikers finally decided to go home and made an escape out the back door only to find the door guarded. The man did not retreat or run and was beaten by several scabs. The commotion drew the attention of a policeman who let the scabs have their fun before breaking up the fight. The policeman then escorted the wounded man home.

  ‘If anyone wants to go home,’ Archie announced, ‘don’t go alone. Organise yourselves into groups. There are plenty of us here to see out the night.’

  ‘You go, Archie,’ a voice called. ‘Go get some sleep, man. We’re all right.’

  The man was right. Archie was weary and his body was still stiff from the beating. And he was genuinely worried that the house might be set on fire while it was known to be empty. He organised a small group to make his escape.

  ‘I’ll be in first thing,’ he told the others.

  The men formed a tight knot and exited by the front door. The crowd pushed in close so that Archie’s men were forced to shoulder a route through. The police brought their horses right into the fray tactically blocking Archie from making headway but no blows were struck and eventually the men got away. A scab ran to catch them up and drew short, yelling obscenities, secure in the knowledge that he was still within fighting distance of his fellow scabs.

  ‘Ignore him, boys,’ said Archie through gritted teeth.

  Out of the main street and into the darkness several scabs followed Archie’s group then disappeared.

  ‘They’ve gone,’ said one of the men.

  ‘Don’t let your guard down,’ said Archie. Just then a group of followers appeared, slowly walking towards them swinging batons and snapping them into their hands.

  ‘Well well,’ said the ringleader. ‘What a prize we have here, Mickey. If it isn’t Mr. Waihi Trade Union of Workers himself.’ The man spat the words. ‘What do you think of your union now?’

  ‘You’re not doing your class any favours by working for a company that doesn’t care what union you’re in or what Act you’re registered under,’ said Archie. ‘Do you even know what the fight is about? This is for you.’

  The men snarled. He walked menacingly closer and waved his baton. ‘And this is for you.’

  Archie’s men drew their weapons and a furious beating ensued on both sides. Finally Archie struck a man on the head, knocking him to the ground. Then it was all on as both sides couldn’t wait to knock the other senseless. Batons flew and struck, the men grunting as they received the strikes. Soon there were more men down than standing and a cry rang out.

  ‘That’s enough.’ It was an Arbitrationist.

  ‘Why didn’t you use your gun?’ asked one of the Federationists.

  ‘Without witnesses?’ asked Archie.

  ‘I’d have witnessed it.’ It was a woman’s voice.

  ‘Mary! What are you doing out here?’

  She had her revolver cocked and nervously held it at the group of scabs with two hands.

  ‘Put that down, sweetheart,’ said Archie. ‘Just aim it at the ground.’

  Mary addressed the scabs. ‘Get away. Go on. Get.’

  The men scrambled up from the ground and high tailed it back to the main street.

  Mary let out a huge sigh and it was only when Archie took her in his embrace did she notice how much she trembled. He gently took the gun and disarmed it. She glanced along the street to Isabelle’s.

  ‘There are all sorts of coming and goings, Archie. We’ve got light in every room.’ She shivered. ‘We hear shouts and scuffles. Luckily for you.’

  Archie put his arm around her shoulders. ‘Come on, sweetheart. I’ll walk you back. You men go on home. Watch your backs.’

  As they walked Archie held Mary close, her warmth a pleasant sensation against the cool air. At the door to the house he hugged Mary tightly.

  ‘I didn’t thank you,’ he whispered as he stroked her hair.

  Mary’s breath was shallow and every sense heightened as adrenalin surged through her veins. She drew back her head and let her lips part. The smell of Archie filled her.

  He pressed his lips against hers and she kissed him hungrily until her legs weakened.

  ‘Oh, Mary, Mary,’ Archie whispered. ‘My darling girl. Go inside now. Look after Isabelle and the children.’ He kissed her again. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow.’

  Chapter Twenty Seven

  Archie scooted home sticking to the shadows now aware of the sharp pain of the baton strikes. Union Street was quiet, but Archie couldn’t be sure his house wasn’t being staked out. He ducked behind a bush at the corner of the road and waited. There was no movement or sound. He sneaked around the back of his cottage and let himself in.

  It felt odd: he hadn’t spent a night alone since he married Ann. And not long after that there’d always been the gentle breathing of the children as they slept. It was a reassuring sound that when suddenly it wasn’t there made the silence boom in his eardrums.

  Slowly Archie prepared for bed. How he longed for a drink to settle him. His mind replayed the events of the night. How had it escalated so quickly? Hadn’t he been relentless in his quest for the voice of the working class to be heard? Perhaps he was obsessed with the philosophy behind the Waihi fight. But then, the union executive had a good mix of men; surely they appealed to all their members. Why had they not got the message across?

  His thoughts turned to Mary. If only he could roll over and feel her smooth body next to his. She would respond to his tender touch and he would make love to her giving her every ounce of his being. Instead she was fighting a fight that was never hers to fight, but for him. Instead, she was hunkering down with a gun.

  When sleep came Archie slept fitfully. At the sound of the first blackbirds he crawled out of bed, dressed and went back to the hall.

  A few die-hard scabs milled around the front without much inclination to yell and scream. A couple shot Archie a half-hearted obscenity. By the beginning of the working shift the unionist defenders of the hall had been partially relieved and the numbers outside had bolstered to about thirty, now refreshed, armed and riotous. Mounted police backed them up.

  ‘You might as well pack up and leave,’ taunted an Arbitrationist.

  ‘It’s you who should be leaving, you dirty black-legs,’ a striker shot back.

  ‘There are no jobs for you now,’ came the retort.

  ‘You’re a disgrace to your class,’ the striker replied. Then he spat hitting the protagonist directly in the face.

  Suddenly there was a skirmish and several scabs charged into the hall. A shot rang out and a scab crashed screaming to the floor clutching his knee.

  A rush ensued as the attackers crushed into the hall oblivious to the cries of the downed man. Overwhelmed, Archie gave the call to retreat trying to ensure he was last out. As he scrambled out the door he was tackled from behind then he heard another shot. The tackler was unphased and after him.

  The unionists ahead of Archie called for him to flee and he managed to stumble outside half dragging his assailant with him. But the attacker did not let up and fighters on both sides joined the melee. Suddenly Archie felt a sting across his head. He was unconscious before he hit the ground. A barrage of strikes and kicks rained down on him as he lay sprawled on the grass and the two parties broke into a pitched battle until police on horses rounded them up.

  ‘He shot a man,’ called a voice.

  A policeman steadied his mount and stood over Archie. ‘Get him to the cells,’ he barked.

  Several Federationists dragged Archie away from the huddle.

  ‘He needs a hospital.’ It was a striker appealing to the police constable but he was ignored.

  The policeman turned his attention to the wounded man who crouched on the ground clutching his stomach. ‘Pete?’

  The man looked up.

  ‘What the...? ‘Get some help here,’ the policeman barked. ‘Get this man
to hospital.’

  ‘Someone get Garrick and the committee,’ shouted a striker.

  As each side tried to recover their wounded a possie of police on foot appeared. Archie was ferreted away to the police cells whilst the shot man was transported to hospital. After an hour and a half Archie still had not regained consciousness and Garrick, Leonard and Buster pressed for Archie to be transferred to hospital, finally having their request granted.

  ‘Mary needs to be told,’ said Garrick.

  ‘We’ll go,’ said Leonard.

  ‘She’s with Ian’s wife. Tell her to get word to Ian and the Federation.’

  Mary knew something was happening in town when the shots rang through the air. When the knocks on the front door came she knew right away it was bad news. Isabelle pushed her out the door promising to look after the children.

  ‘Go.’ Isabelle squeezed Mary’s hand. ‘Be there for him when he wakes up.’

  * * *

  Mary pushed through the throng outside the hospital where a dozen policemen milled around. There was no one she recognised from the union.

  Inside were more police, lining the dim corridors and huddled around the doors to the ward. Her breath caught at the sight and she hesitated. The ward sister approached her.

  ‘Who are you here to see?’ she asked Mary

  ‘Archie Wright.’

  The sister huffed. ‘He’s unconscious. You’ll have to wait.’

  Mary glanced at the police. ‘Can’t I sit by his bed, sister?’ she asked, directing the sister’s gaze to the police.

  ‘It’s most irregular.’

  ‘Please.’

  The sister sighed heavily then led Mary through to the ward where Archie and his antagonists lay, more police hovering around them. They stared at Mary.

  ‘It’s over now, miss,’ a policeman said to Mary. ‘You may as well pack up your bags and leave.’

  Mary trembled and walked slowly down the ward to get a chair. She cleared her throat and sat down, her back to the menace.

  The sister addressed the police. ‘You’ll have to leave. These men need rest.’

  There was a disturbance at the door and Garrick’s voice boomed.

  ‘The police led the charge. You can’t deny it. Wait until the papers get hold of this.’ There was a scuffle. ‘Get your filthy hands off me. You knew he was there. You put him there to incite violence and you got it.’