Strife [22]
crowd, and MADGE passing below the towing-path, stops by the platform, looking up at ROBERTS. A sudden doubting silence.]
ROBERTS. "Nature," says that old man, "give in to Nature." I tell you, strike your blow in Nature's face--an' let it do its worst!
[He catches sight of MADGE, his brows contract, he looks away.]
MADGE. [In a low voice-close to the platform.] Your wife's dying!
[ROBERTS glares at her as if torn from some pinnacle of exaltation.]
ROBERTS. [Trying to stammer on.] I say to you--answer them--answer them----
[He is drowned by the murmur in the crowd.]
THOMAS. [Stepping forward.] Ton't you hear her, then?
ROBERTS. What is it? [A dead silence.]
THOMAS. Your wife, man!
[ROBERTS hesitates, then with a gesture, he leaps down, and goes away below the towing-path, the men making way for him. The standing bargeman opens and prepares to light a lantern. Daylight is fast failing.]
MADGE. He need n't have hurried! Annie Roberts is dead. [Then in the silence, passionately.] You pack of blinded hounds! How many more women are you going to let to die?
[The crowd shrinks back from her, and breaks up in groups, with a confused, uneasy movement. MADGE goes quickly away below the towing-path. There is a hush as they look after her.]
LEWIS. There's a spitfire, for ye!
BULGIN. [Growling.] I'll smash 'er jaw.
GREEN. If I'd a-been listened to, that poor woman----
THOMAS. It's a judgment on him for going against Chapel. I tolt him how 't would be!
EVANS. All the more reason for sticking by 'im. [A cheer.] Are you goin' to desert him now 'e 's down? Are you going to chuck him over, now 'e 's lost 'is wife?
[The crowd is murmuring and cheering all at once.]
ROUS. [Stepping in front of platform.] Lost his wife! Aye! Can't ye see? Look at home, look at your own wives! What's to save them? Ye'll have the same in all your houses before long!
LEWIS. Aye, aye!
HENRY ROUS. Right! George, right!
[There are murmurs of assent.]
ROUS. It's not us that's blind, it's Roberts. How long will ye put up with 'im!
HENRY, ROUS, BULGIN, DAVIES. Give 'im the chuck!
[The cry is taken up.]
EVANS. [Fiercely.] Kick a man that's down? Down?
HENRY ROUS. Stop his jaw there!
[EVANS throws up his arm at a threat from BULGIN. The bargeman, who has lighted the lantern, holds it high above his head.]
ROUS. [Springing on to the platform.] What brought him down then, but 'is own black obstinacy? Are ye goin' to follow a man that can't see better than that where he's goin'?
EVANS. He's lost 'is wife.
ROUS. An' who's fault's that but his own. 'Ave done with 'im, I say, before he's killed your own wives and mothers.
DAVIES. Down 'im!
HENRY ROUS. He's finished!
BROWN. We've had enough of 'im!
BLACKSMITH. Too much!
[The crowd takes up these cries, excepting only EVANS, JAGO, and GREEN, who is seen to argue mildly with the BLACKSMITH.]
ROUS. [Above the hubbub.] We'll make terms with the Union, lads.
[Cheers.]
EVANS. [Fiercely.] Ye blacklegs!
BULGIN. [Savagely-squaring up to him.] Who are ye callin' blacklegs, Rat?
[EVANS throws up his fists, parries the blow, and returns it. They fight. The bargemen are seen holding up the lantern and enjoying the sight. Old THOMAS steps forward and holds out his hands.]
THOMAS. Shame on your strife!
[The BLACKSMITH, BROWN, LEWIS, and the RED-HAIRED YOUTH pull EVANS and BULGIN apart. The stage is almost dark.]
The curtain falls.
ACT III
It is five o'clock. In the UNDERWOODS' drawing-room, which is artistically furnished, ENID is sitting on the sofa working at a baby's frock. EDGAR, by a little spindle-legged table in the centre of the room, is fingering a china-box. His eyes are fixed on the double-doors that lead into the dining-room.
EDGAR.
ROBERTS. "Nature," says that old man, "give in to Nature." I tell you, strike your blow in Nature's face--an' let it do its worst!
[He catches sight of MADGE, his brows contract, he looks away.]
MADGE. [In a low voice-close to the platform.] Your wife's dying!
[ROBERTS glares at her as if torn from some pinnacle of exaltation.]
ROBERTS. [Trying to stammer on.] I say to you--answer them--answer them----
[He is drowned by the murmur in the crowd.]
THOMAS. [Stepping forward.] Ton't you hear her, then?
ROBERTS. What is it? [A dead silence.]
THOMAS. Your wife, man!
[ROBERTS hesitates, then with a gesture, he leaps down, and goes away below the towing-path, the men making way for him. The standing bargeman opens and prepares to light a lantern. Daylight is fast failing.]
MADGE. He need n't have hurried! Annie Roberts is dead. [Then in the silence, passionately.] You pack of blinded hounds! How many more women are you going to let to die?
[The crowd shrinks back from her, and breaks up in groups, with a confused, uneasy movement. MADGE goes quickly away below the towing-path. There is a hush as they look after her.]
LEWIS. There's a spitfire, for ye!
BULGIN. [Growling.] I'll smash 'er jaw.
GREEN. If I'd a-been listened to, that poor woman----
THOMAS. It's a judgment on him for going against Chapel. I tolt him how 't would be!
EVANS. All the more reason for sticking by 'im. [A cheer.] Are you goin' to desert him now 'e 's down? Are you going to chuck him over, now 'e 's lost 'is wife?
[The crowd is murmuring and cheering all at once.]
ROUS. [Stepping in front of platform.] Lost his wife! Aye! Can't ye see? Look at home, look at your own wives! What's to save them? Ye'll have the same in all your houses before long!
LEWIS. Aye, aye!
HENRY ROUS. Right! George, right!
[There are murmurs of assent.]
ROUS. It's not us that's blind, it's Roberts. How long will ye put up with 'im!
HENRY, ROUS, BULGIN, DAVIES. Give 'im the chuck!
[The cry is taken up.]
EVANS. [Fiercely.] Kick a man that's down? Down?
HENRY ROUS. Stop his jaw there!
[EVANS throws up his arm at a threat from BULGIN. The bargeman, who has lighted the lantern, holds it high above his head.]
ROUS. [Springing on to the platform.] What brought him down then, but 'is own black obstinacy? Are ye goin' to follow a man that can't see better than that where he's goin'?
EVANS. He's lost 'is wife.
ROUS. An' who's fault's that but his own. 'Ave done with 'im, I say, before he's killed your own wives and mothers.
DAVIES. Down 'im!
HENRY ROUS. He's finished!
BROWN. We've had enough of 'im!
BLACKSMITH. Too much!
[The crowd takes up these cries, excepting only EVANS, JAGO, and GREEN, who is seen to argue mildly with the BLACKSMITH.]
ROUS. [Above the hubbub.] We'll make terms with the Union, lads.
[Cheers.]
EVANS. [Fiercely.] Ye blacklegs!
BULGIN. [Savagely-squaring up to him.] Who are ye callin' blacklegs, Rat?
[EVANS throws up his fists, parries the blow, and returns it. They fight. The bargemen are seen holding up the lantern and enjoying the sight. Old THOMAS steps forward and holds out his hands.]
THOMAS. Shame on your strife!
[The BLACKSMITH, BROWN, LEWIS, and the RED-HAIRED YOUTH pull EVANS and BULGIN apart. The stage is almost dark.]
The curtain falls.
ACT III
It is five o'clock. In the UNDERWOODS' drawing-room, which is artistically furnished, ENID is sitting on the sofa working at a baby's frock. EDGAR, by a little spindle-legged table in the centre of the room, is fingering a china-box. His eyes are fixed on the double-doors that lead into the dining-room.
EDGAR.