The Nipper, page 15
‘Who are you?’
Tom looked at his master, for indeed Sir William Combe Stockwell was his real master, and he said, ‘A miner…in your pit. Perhaps you don’t know it, sir, but the men are on strike at the moment.’
In the flickering candlelight the two men of a like height surveyed each other, the privileged and the underprivileged, and the master, his voice cold and haughty, said, ‘I am well aware that there is a strike at my mine. But what do you think you will achieve by blowing up my house and all the people in it?’
‘Neither I, nor the men that are with me, had any intention of committing such a crime.’
Sir William nodded slowly. ‘Ah! You have men then, you are the leader of the rebel faction?’
‘I speak for a section of the men, sir; that section who just want rights, who want to negotiate. Big Mullen there’—he pointed down to the floor—‘he led another faction, much smaller, who considered it was useless to try to talk to’—he paused—‘to the owners. They wanted action.’
They stared at each other for a moment longer, then Sir William turned his eyes away and, looking down at the twisted form on the ground, said, ‘Is he dead?’
‘Aye, he’s dead.’ It was Stan speaking again.
‘Well, that’s saved him the gallows, hasn’t it?’ On this the master turned abruptly about, saying, ‘Come back with me, all of you.’
‘Me an’ all?’ It was a soft question from Norah Gillespie. And they all looked in her direction and the master said, ‘Yes, you and all.’
Sandy felt his jaws tighten at the way his mother was being addressed, but they slackened somewhat when Mr Conisbie and Mr Farrington helped both her and Tom down through the trapdoor.
He himself stood at the top of the door about to drop down into the hole when he looked to where Stan was standing still gazing at his father, and he ran back to him and grabbed his arm, saying, ‘Come on, Stan. Come on.’
‘No, I’m not goin’.’ The voice was gruff.
‘Look.’ Sandy whispered now. ‘You can do nothing here, it’s over, finished. You…you’ve got to clear yourself. If you don’t come they might try to tack something on to you. Come on, man. You can come back later for him.’
Stan paused for a moment; then reluctantly he allowed himself to be led to the trapdoor, and Sandy said, ‘Just sit down and let yourself go.’
When they were all in the passage they moved in single file, Sandy bringing up the rear with Stan before him; in front, Tom and his mother.
When at last they reached the secret room behind the panel there were a number of people busying about, and a man was saying to Sir William, ‘Look at this lot, William. Three sets at different points. My God! Just think of what it could have done.’ He pointed to the three groups of charges, about thirty pieces in all, and he said in awe, ‘It’s an arsenal. The whole place would have gone up.’ There was silence for a moment; then Sir William let out an audible breath and said, ‘Yes, the whole place could have gone up. Come on, let’s get out of here.’
When Sandy passed through the narrow aperture into the dining room he saw it was crowded with people, not only with gentlemen but with ladies too now, and the sight of the women was definitely displeasing to Sir William for he was saying tersely, ‘Now didn’t I send to tell you it was all right? You can adjourn to the drawing room, ladies.’
‘Oh, William, William.’ A plump lady was hanging on to his arm. ‘Is it true? Were we going to be blown up? Those wicked men. Those wicked, wicked men.’
‘Calm yourself, Amelia. See to your mama, Anna.’ He motioned with a gesture towards his daughter; then turning to the butler, he said, ‘Bring the decanters, Banner.’ And when the butler had brought the decanters and glasses from the sideboard to the table Sir William turned and, looking towards Sandy, where he stood next to his mother, with Stan on the other side of him and Tom Fitzsimmons behind him, he moved towards them and said courteously, ‘Be seated.’ At the same time a wave of his hand brought the servants scurrying forward with four chairs.
After they had sat down silently and self-consciously, Sir William poured out four glasses of wine and he himself handed them, one to each, and they thanked him in their different ways. But they didn’t put the wine to their lips until all the men in the room had glasses in their hands. Then Sir William, raising his own glass and looking at Sandy, said, ‘Our thanks to you, boy. Our grateful thanks.’ And on this there came a chorus of voices from the men, ‘Indeed! Indeed, our grateful thanks.’ This went on for some seconds, and then they all drank and Sandy, his face red and his hands sweating, took his first sip of real wine and thought he had never tasted anything like it in his life, as indeed he hadn’t.
Sir William now addressed him, saying, ‘Now boy, tell us from the beginning about this whole episode.’ And on this command Sandy looked apprehensively from his mother to Stan, and then to Tom. But his mother remained quiet, as did Stan. It was Tom who said, ‘The damage is done now, boy, tell what you know.’
And so, haltingly but briefly, he told of the meeting with Mad Mark, and of Big Mullen’s methods in trying to get the old man to talk. He told of Stan’s opposition to his father. He stressed this part of the story, and when he came to the strike he let his imagination run rife about Tom’s eloquence and his handling of the men; lastly he spoke of The Nipper, the pit pony, and immediately he mentioned his name he remembered that The Nipper was still tethered to a coach, and he got to his feet quickly and said, ‘Sir! Sir! Could I, please, see to him? He’ll be missing me.’
‘Oh,’ said Sir William airily now; ‘I should think he’s been attended to.’ He looked round the room, and one of the lackeys coming deferentially towards him, said, ‘The pony has been taken to the stables, sir.’
‘There, does that ease your mind?’
‘Yes, sir.’ Sandy sat slowly down again.
‘Well now, boy.’ Sir William also seated himself, as did most of the ladies around the dining table, and Sir William waited for their rustling and fluttering to stop before he went on, ‘I am deeply aware at this moment that I not only owe you my life, and that of my family, but also the lives of all my guests.’ He looked around the company and there were loud cries of ‘Hear, hear! True, true! Indeed, indeed.’ And then he went on, ‘And I for one would like to repay that debt as much as lies in my power…Is there anything you want, boy?’
Was there anything he wanted? If he lived to be a hundred he never expected anyone to say that to him. Was there anything he wanted? He wanted…What did he want? Why the only thing he wanted was to own The Nipper and…and his mother to have a nice house and…and of course Stan, he wanted Stan to be happy, and he wanted Tom to have a fair deal, and Tom having a fair deal would mean the rest having a fair deal, and he wanted, oh, he wanted to work on a farm again.
WHAT WAS THE MATTER WITH HIM? Had he gone barmy? The master had just asked him what he wanted, and he thought he only wanted to own The Nipper, but here he was wanting the world.
They were all looking at him. All these eyes were on him. The room was full of eyes and smiling faces. He heard someone laugh and say, ‘He’s tongue-tied.’ Then came the sound of coins hitting a plate and he turned his eyes, with those of the rest, to a man standing behind a lady seated at the top of the table. It was the man Sir William had called Conisbie and Conisbie was saying, ‘There, boy, that’s my contribution,’ and he was about to hand the plate to the next man when Sir William’s voice checked him saying in a stiff tone, ‘Thank you, Conisbie, but this is primarily my debt; allow me to discharge it.’ He again turned to Sandy and said, ‘Well, boy, tell me what you wish for yourself and if it lies within my power it shall be granted.’
Sandy looked back into the eyes of the mine owner and it was in this moment that he really became a man, for he knew that such a space in time, such an opportunity would never come his way again. In this moment he could ask things of the Lord of the Manor that good honest men would never dare to voice for a generation or more. This was a God-given moment, it was a moment that happened to few, but it was happening to him and he must make use of it. He gulped on his spittle, then said in a steady voice, ‘I would like six ponies, sir.’
The room was quiet. Sir William screwed up his eyes and looked down on the boy. Then his gaze slanted to the side where the eyes of his friends were on him, sporting men to the last one, lovers of horses, betting men. They all knew what value he put on his stables and they knew that he had but five young promising colts. He mouthed ‘Six ponies?’ before he actually spoke the words, and the way he said them told Sandy that his request had not met with approval, far from it, so he put in hastily, ‘There’s four of them for the knacker’s yard, sir. The Nipper, him outside’—he jerked his head back—‘he’s the only decent one, the others are past it.’
Sandy watched Sir William’s face stretch now, the lips pulled away from the nose, to be drawn in for a moment between the teeth; he watched the head nod and the voice that came to him held deep amusement as he said, ‘Six of my pit ponies?’
‘Yes, sir.’
A murmur of merriment spread around the room; then it died away as Sir William said in some bewilderment, ‘But what do you intend to do with six ponies, four of which are…past it?’
‘Let them stay up top, sir, for the rest of their days, in a field.’
There was a heavy silence on the room now. It was broken by a rustling and murmuring from the ladies as they turned to each other. Now Sir William was speaking again. ‘And you would want some place to keep them—a field with water—and shelter?’
Their eyes were still holding. ‘Yes, sir.’
‘How do you intend to feed them?’ There was a quirk to Sir William’s lips now.
Sandy could make no reply, and at this moment he became consciously aware of his mother, he could even hear her thinking, Six dratted ponies now. OH NO!
‘Count me responsible for their feed.’
The voice came from the middle of the table and all eyes were turned on the man who had spoken them, and to him Sir William addressed himself, and rather coldly, saying, ‘Thank you, Campbell, but as I’ve already said, and as you all know’—his eyes swept the table—‘I prefer to discharge my own debts.’ He turned slowly to Sandy again, adding, ‘So, boy, you have six ponies, a field, and feed for them as long as they require it. Does that satisfy you?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Sir William narrowed his eyes. ‘You don’t sound over sure. What is it? Speak up. Is there something else you wish for?’
‘Yes, sir. Two, two things more, sir.’ He kept his gaze steady although there was a queasy feeling in his stomach as if he could be sick. He would have to say what he had to say and get it over with, and quick. He now glanced towards Stan, for the first of these two requests was for him as well as himself. Stan was his mate, his marrer, and he knew he would never enjoy his good luck if Stan had bad. He said quickly, ‘I want a job on a farm, sir, along with me mate here, Stan.’
‘Oh!’ Sir William pursed his lips. ‘Well, that I’m sure can be arranged. You would like it to be on my farm, I suppose?’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘Is that one, or both of your requests?’
‘Just one, sir.’
‘Well.’ Sir William smiled. ‘Let us have the last one.’
Sandy bit on his lips, gulped deep in his throat, then said quietly, ‘The night’s work, sir, came about because the miners are dissatisfied.’ He paused, and as he did so he realised that this one sentence had changed the atmosphere in the room, especially had it stiffened the countenance of the man before him. Nevertheless, he went on, because he knew that what he had to say now was more important than anything he had said before, more important than him having The Nipper in the open again, more important than working on the land, and this was the moment to say it, tomorrow would be too late for this man would never be in the same mood again, but any promise extracted from him now he would honour. Appealing straight to Sir William as the employer of the miners, he said, ‘You have some good men in your mine, sir, good workers, but they don’t always get fair play an’ they cannot have things put to rights ’cos they cannot talk to you. Tom, here’—he turned and looked at Tom who was staring fixedly at him, pride and encouragement in his eyes—‘Tom here has asked time and time again if it would be possible to have a word with you, to put the men’s case afore you. It’s no good puttin’ it to the butties or the keekers, and the manager has a one-sided view, sir. That’s natural, ’cos he’s thinkin’ of you all the time. So Tom thought that if he could approach you face to face like and have a quiet talk, perhaps somethin’ could be done. That’s what he’s wanted to do all along. That’s what he tried to get Big Mullen to see, but…but he and his lot wouldn’t have any of it. That’s—’ He gulped again. ‘That’s me last request of you, sir, that you let Tom talk to you, at your convenience like, I mean.’
A pin could have been heard to drop in the room. Although the ladies were unaware of the importance of this request, they gauged from the manner of their menfolk that it was out of the ordinary—something beyond the bounds accorded to the common man was being requested.
The men themselves waited, each in his own way wondering how Stockwell would meet this unusual challenge. They were all masters of men and some of them believed, and acted in accordance with, a certain theory that was rife at this period, that the only way to keep the poor from taking over was to keep them hungry. As to allowing a common miner to put his case before the owner, it was unheard of. But this night was a special night; each man fully realised he was alive only because this boy had saved him, and he had saved him because he was a boy of initiative and sharp wits. Now he was putting his sharp wits to the test, and against Stockwell, and they were wondering, each of them, how Stockwell would react. He was not looking at the boy now but at the man with the bloodstained shirt who had risen to his feet. He was a well set-up man, honest looking, it would be hard to place him as one of the rabble; there was a dignity about him.
Still the company waited. Then Sir William returned his gaze to the boy, and now the look in his eyes was hard. He was caught in a cleft stick. The request had staggered him. He had been shaken when the boy asked for the field, for it would take a two acre field to graze six ponies, and a field was land and you didn’t give land to the common folk, not even a quarter acre in which to keep a pig, not if you were wise. But because of the debt of lives that had to be paid, he had proposed it, and covered his feelings with a smile because ponies without a field was like a boxer without a backer. But land was one thing, the running of his mine was another. His penetrating gaze went deep into the eyes before him. He saw fear in them, but surmounting it he saw courage, and something akin to envy stirred in him. Why couldn’t he, with all his wealth, have had a son like this? This boy was sharp, intelligent; he was taking advantage of a situation, not cunningly but in the manner of a fencer looking for openings, parrying, then thrusting forward straight to the point. His face relaxed, his head went back and he let out a bellow of a laugh as he cried, ‘Gentlemen! Who says that one day we won’t see our young benefactor gracing the High Court as an advocate?’
This sally was greeted with a great burst of laughter, and when it had died away, Sir William again looked at Sandy, who was red in the face now, and said, ‘Very well, boy, your last wish is granted.’ Then, his gaze on Tom, he added, not unkindly, ‘Tomorrow at eleven o’clock await me here.’
‘Thank you, sir. Thank you indeed.’
‘And now I think you’d better have that shoulder seen to.’ He nodded towards the still bright blood oozing through the shirt. ‘And I’m sure you could all do with something to eat before you return to your homes. Banner.’ He did not look round but waved his hand towards himself, and the butler came hurrying forward, and still not looking at Banner, but letting his gaze rest on Norah Gillespie now, he said, ‘See that they’re well fed; then tell Hanson to get the luggage coach ready and see them home.’ And now he addressed Norah, saying, ‘You can be proud of your son, Ma’am.’ And to this she answered with a quiet dignity, ‘I always have been, sir; he takes after his father.’
‘Your husband; where does he work?’
‘My husband is dead, sir.’
‘Oh…well, you will not want for protection as long as you have that young man by your side.’
Norah Gillespie glanced at Sandy. His face was scarlet and his head was bowed. He stayed like this for a moment. Then looking once more up at Sir William he said quietly and with deep sincerity, ‘Sir, I thank you for your kindness to me and mine. I will always be your man, sir, wherever I am.’
The two confronted each other, and again Sir William felt the pain of regret at not having a son such as this.
With a slight wave of his hand he dismissed them and they followed the butler through the smiling throng of people.
It was as Sandy reached the bottom of the table that he caught the gaze of the young lady on him, and he once more felt the curl of her whip around his wrist, and when she stepped towards him and said, ‘I’m sorry for my attitude this afternoon,’ for a moment he could find nothing to say. It was a different thing to talk back to a man, but this girl here was a lady, and she was bonny. Yet not as bonny as Katie. Wait till he told Katie about everything. And, wonder of wonders, he would be working on the farm with Katie. His heart gave a little bound. Then it was with not a little amazement that he heard himself saying, ‘That’s all right, miss; you couldn’t know. It was an accident, like.’ And, his smile widening, he added, ‘You have a fine pony, a grand stepper.’
He had spoken casually as if talking to an equal and not to the daughter of the Manor House. And he had moved on through the doorway and across the hall, and was going down a dim passage, when Norah Gillespie said with a touch of sharpness in her voice, ‘Fancy speaking like that to Miss! The night’s business has gone to your head; you forgot yourself, son.’
