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diff --git a/.gitattributes b/.gitattributes new file mode 100644 index 0000000..6833f05 --- /dev/null +++ b/.gitattributes @@ -0,0 +1,3 @@ +* text=auto +*.txt text +*.md text diff --git a/11480-0.txt b/11480-0.txt new file mode 100644 index 0000000..d76263a --- /dev/null +++ b/11480-0.txt @@ -0,0 +1,540 @@ +*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11480 *** + +DEEP WATERS + +By W.W. JACOBS + + + + +STRIKING HARD + +"You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on +its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. + +"Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood +it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with +I don't suppose you'd believe me." + +"Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them +that like 'em. They're no good to me." + +"We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her +husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The +people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." + +"I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If +they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you +remember the last time you went on strike?" + +"This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. + +"All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we +had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are +we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in +the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why +not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a +bit?" + +Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our +committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best +speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll +eat my 'ead." + +"It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took +up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed +her work. + +Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable +slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a +good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, +passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he +went briskly downstairs. + +It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air +the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly +collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and +angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, +stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have +had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a +box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a +cigarette. + +"Susan!" he exclaimed. + +Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of +smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. + +"Wot--wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. + +Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose +just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the +rest. Will it hurt me?" + +"Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the +kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" + +"I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on +strike." + +Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On +strike? Nonsense! You can't be." + +"O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to +it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to +do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." + +She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her +plump knees, eyes him steadily. + +"But--but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides +--I won't 'ave it!" + +Mrs. Porter laughed--a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of +hardness in it. + +"All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike +for?" + +"Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. + +His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" + +She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a +paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub +of the first. + +"That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and +addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without +thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they +look at it all round, and upside down, and--and--make sure it can be +done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you +do--not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first--is to go on strike. +If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you +to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." + +"Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. + +"Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from +school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't +they?" + +"That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. + +"After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be +put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and +dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's +shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." + +"I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." + +"And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. + +"The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and +cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," +was the reply. + +"I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with +sudden heat. "Mind that!" + +"I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy +man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." + +"Strong--'ealthy--man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. +"Strong--'eal---- Wot are you talking about?" + +Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. + +There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of +expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. + +"You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there +smiling and smoking like a--like a man, but if you think that I'm going +to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, +you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" + +Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," +she said, entering the house. + +"Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. + +"Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the +reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave +bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." + +"I forbid you to leave this 'ouse !" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling +voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and +all the kids dirty and starving." + +"Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. + +Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A +glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in +the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. + +He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning +home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four +children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with +the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother +was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in +stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, +acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. + +The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the +tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating +orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had +taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his +pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the +assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and +placed one of them in the dustbin. + +The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and +watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage +which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of +relief heralded its return to the pan. + +"Mother always--" began the eldest boy. + +Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the +critic's head. + +The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned +to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their +rightful owners. + +"Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted +in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. + +"Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. + +"If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know +it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is +Africa in?" + +"Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. + +"Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it +in?" + +"Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. + +"And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. +"Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And +mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." + +He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up +the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice +changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his +fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple +of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate +themselves to his figure. + +He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too +lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. + +"Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he +said, crisply. + +"I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I +married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, +mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf +is better than--'" + +The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three +lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering +frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a +deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute +to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while +she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only +relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few +ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her +deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. + +He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on +his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the +entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for +the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he +strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his +colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little +natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice +upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. + +"I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, +hastily. + +"I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me +last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to +join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." + +Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. + +Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I +might go too far, once I started." + +"What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. + +"She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," +said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this +afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try +kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep +her on bread and water." + +He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after +wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day +with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and +provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. +The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold +tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry +and eager, completed his discomfiture. + +For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. +Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of +amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even +offered to give him a little instruction--verbal--in scrubbing the +kitchen-floor. + +Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full +height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also +contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then +he set off down the street in quest of a staff. + +He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a +few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully +undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her +spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care +of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked +the same evening at the Lord Nelson. + +It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, +and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a +free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready +(roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike +he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The +children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the +virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were +greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple +of days with Aunt Jane. + +"What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by +a lady-friend. + +"What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with +the family. + +"That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. + +Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he +replied, uneasily. + +"Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. +Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" + +"Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. + +"A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. + +"Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. + +"Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued +Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what +comes of not having pickets." + +"Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her +head. + +"A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" + +"Put her out," counselled her friend. + +"Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! +I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" + +Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate +Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and +looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was +barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she +dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy +in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of +thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the +accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the +other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the +intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of +hysterics. + +"And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said +Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" + +"If you 'ad some husbands--" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. + +"Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, +taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. +She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." + +Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying +good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. +Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing +seriousness of his position. + +In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made +harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. +Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing +touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour +to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a +reception that took her breath away. + +It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far +unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished +and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the +furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- +chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or +seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a +lower sphere. + +"It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. + +"Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. + +"Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are +coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" + +Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. + +"Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice--"the lady +what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't +been kept in since. I wish you----" + +She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out +of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them +thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man +could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. + +He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past +three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, +clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, +an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. +Glasses and teacups were filled. + +"Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the +business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another +meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' +course, if it should happen that we ain't finished----" + +"Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping +in at the winder already," said a voice. + +"Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able +to see how to run a meeting." + +"There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be +able to keep a straight face!" + +"H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to +open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to +consider about this strike----" + +The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room +in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. + +"Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the +eyes of Mrs. Gorman----"strike--er--strike----" + +"He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he +did." + +"Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this--this--er--" + +"Strike," prompted the same voice. + +Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, +sat staring straight before him. + +"I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, +"that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." + +"'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. + +"She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. +Evans, unheeding. "She understands men--" + +"I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. + +"And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman +takes the chair. Those in favour--" + +Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed +defiantly at a row of palms. + +"Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. + +Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men +held their breath. + +"It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." + +"Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is +nine points of the law. I'm here and--" + +Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly +and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. + +"Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" + +Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. + +"Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. + +Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and +the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all +haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his +appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. + +"What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't +you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called +a man. If my wife was carrying on like this----" + +"I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. + +Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. + +"I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded +gently from the room. + +"Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, +hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." + +A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and +communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense +pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what +had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His +companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, +followed him. + +It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They +lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with +flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and +the men victorious. + +"Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right +to strike, after all." + +Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, +calmly. + +Her husband swallowed. "You--you don't understand 'ow these things are +done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne--negotiate." + +"All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." + +"Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. + +And Mrs. Porter said it. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK 11480 *** diff --git a/11480-h.zip b/11480-h.zip Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..58a0cba --- /dev/null +++ b/11480-h.zip diff --git a/11480-h/001.jpg b/11480-h/001.jpg Binary files differnew file mode 100644 index 0000000..f003e6a --- /dev/null +++ b/11480-h/001.jpg diff --git a/11480-h/11480-h.htm b/11480-h/11480-h.htm new file mode 100644 index 0000000..fa9cf74 --- /dev/null +++ b/11480-h/11480-h.htm @@ -0,0 +1,1193 @@ +<!DOCTYPE HTML PUBLIC "-//W3C//DTD HTML 4.01 Transitional//EN"> +<html> +<head> +<meta http-equiv="Content-Type" + content="text/html; charset=us-ascii"> +<meta content="pg2html (binary version 0.11)" + name="generator"> +<title>The Project Gutenberg eBook of + Deep Waters: STRIKING HARD + by W.W. Jacobs. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7} + * { font-family: Times; + } + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin: 15%; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 14pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; color:#A82C28} + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Striking Hard + Deep Waters, Part 10. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: March 6, 2004 [EBook #11480] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="cover (95K)" src="cover.jpg" height="787" width="632" /> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<h1> + DEEP WATERS +</h1> +<center><h2> + By W.W. JACOBS +</h2></center> + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title (39K)" src="title.jpg" height="617" width="488" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="001 (37K)" src="001.jpg" height="670" width="480" /> +</center> +<br><br> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + +<a name="2H_4_10"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1> + STRIKING HARD +</h1> +<br /><br /> +<p> + "You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on + its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. +</p> +<p> + "Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood + it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with + I don't suppose you'd believe me." +</p> +<p> + "Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them + that like 'em. They're no good to me." +</p> +<p> + "We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her + husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The + people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." +</p> +<p> + "I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If + they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you + remember the last time you went on strike?" +</p> +<p> + "This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. +</p> +<p> + "All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we + had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are + we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in + the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why + not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a + bit?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our + committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best + speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll + eat my 'ead." +</p> +<p> + "It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took + up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed + her work. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable + slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a + good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, + passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he + went briskly downstairs. +</p> +<p> + It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air + the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly + collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and + angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, + stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have + had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a + box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a + cigarette. +</p> +<p> + "Susan!" he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of + smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. +</p> +<p> + "Wot—wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose + just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the + rest. Will it hurt me?" +</p> +<p> + "Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the + kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" +</p> +<p> + "I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on + strike." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On + strike? Nonsense! You can't be." +</p> +<p> + "O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to + it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to + do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." +</p> +<p> + She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her + plump knees, eyes him steadily. +</p> +<p> + "But—but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides + —I won't 'ave it!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter laughed—a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of + hardness in it. +</p> +<p> + "All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike + for?" +</p> +<p> + "Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. +</p> +<p> + His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" +</p> +<p> + She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a + paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub + of the first. +</p> +<p> + "That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and + addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without + thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they + look at it all round, and upside down, and—and—make sure it can be + done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you + do—not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first—is to go on strike. + If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you + to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." +</p> +<p> + "Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from + school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't + they?" +</p> +<p> + "That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. +</p> +<p> + "After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be + put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and + dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's + shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." +</p> +<p> + "I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." +</p> +<p> + "And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and + cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," + was the reply. +</p> +<p> + "I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with + sudden heat. "Mind that!" +</p> +<p> + "I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy + man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." +</p> +<p> + "Strong—'ealthy—man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. + "Strong—'eal—— Wot are you talking about?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. +</p> +<p> + There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of + expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. +</p> +<p> + "You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there + smiling and smoking like a—like a man, but if you think that I'm going + to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, + you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," + she said, entering the house. +</p> +<p> + "Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. +</p> +<p> + "Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the + reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave + bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." +</p> +<p> + "I forbid you to leave this 'ouse !" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling + voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and + all the kids dirty and starving." +</p> +<p> + "Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. +</p> +<p> + Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A + glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in + the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. +</p> +<p> + He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning + home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four + children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with + the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother + was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in + stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, + acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. +</p> +<p> + The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the + tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating + orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had + taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his + pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the + assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and + placed one of them in the dustbin. +</p> +<p> + The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and + watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage + which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of + relief heralded its return to the pan. +</p> +<p> + "Mother always—" began the eldest boy. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the + critic's head. +</p> +<p> + The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned + to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their + rightful owners. +</p> +<p> + "Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted + in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. +</p> +<p> + "Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. +</p> +<p> + "If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know + it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is + Africa in?" +</p> +<p> + "Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. +</p> +<p> + "Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it + in?" +</p> +<p> + "Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. +</p> +<p> + "And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. + "Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And + mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." +</p> +<p> + He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up + the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice + changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his + fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple + of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate + themselves to his figure. +</p> +<p> + He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too + lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he + said, crisply. +</p> +<p> + "I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I + married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, + mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf + is better than—'" +</p> +<p> + The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three + lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering + frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a + deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute + to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while + she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only + relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few + ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her + deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. +</p> +<p> + He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on + his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the + entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for + the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he + strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his + colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little + natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice + upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. +</p> +<p> + "I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, + hastily. +</p> +<p> + "I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me + last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to + join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I + might go too far, once I started." +</p> +<p> + "What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. +</p> +<p> + "She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," + said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this + afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try + kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep + her on bread and water." +</p> +<p> + He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after + wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day + with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and + provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. + The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold + tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry + and eager, completed his discomfiture. +</p> +<p> + For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. + Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of + amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even + offered to give him a little instruction—verbal—in scrubbing the + kitchen-floor. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full + height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also + contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then + he set off down the street in quest of a staff. +</p> +<p> + He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a + few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully + undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her + spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care + of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked + the same evening at the Lord Nelson. +</p> +<p> + It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, + and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a + free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready + (roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike + he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The + children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the + virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were + greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple + of days with Aunt Jane. +</p> +<p> + "What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by + a lady-friend. +</p> +<p> + "What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with + the family. +</p> +<p> + "That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he + replied, uneasily. +</p> +<p> + "Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. + Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" +</p> +<p> + "Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. +</p> +<p> + "A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. +</p> +<p> + "Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. +</p> +<p> + "Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued + Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what + comes of not having pickets." +</p> +<p> + "Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her + head. +</p> +<p> + "A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" +</p> +<p> + "Put her out," counselled her friend. +</p> +<p> + "Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! + I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" +</p> +<p> + Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate + Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and + looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was + barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she + dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy + in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of + thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the + accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the + other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the + intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of + hysterics. +</p> +<p> + "And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said + Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" +</p> +<p> + "If you 'ad some husbands—" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, + taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. + She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying + good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. + Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing + seriousness of his position. +</p> +<p> + In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made + harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. + Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing + touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour + to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a + reception that took her breath away. +</p> +<p> + It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far + unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished + and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the + furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- + chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or + seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a + lower sphere. +</p> +<p> + "It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. +</p> +<p> + "Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. +</p> +<p> + "Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are + coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. +</p> +<p> + "Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice—"the lady + what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't + been kept in since. I wish you——" +</p> +<p> + She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out + of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them + thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man + could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. +</p> +<p> + He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past + three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, + clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, + an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. + Glasses and teacups were filled. +</p> +<p> + "Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the + business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another + meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' + course, if it should happen that we ain't finished——" +</p> +<p> + "Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping + in at the winder already," said a voice. +</p> +<p> + "Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able + to see how to run a meeting." +</p> +<p> + "There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be + able to keep a straight face!" +</p> +<p> + "H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to + open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to + consider about this strike——" +</p> +<p> + The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room + in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. +</p> +<p> + "Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the + eyes of Mrs. Gorman——"strike—er—strike——" +</p> +<p> + "He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he + did." +</p> +<p> + "Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this—this—er—" +</p> +<p> + "Strike," prompted the same voice. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, + sat staring straight before him. +</p> +<p> + "I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, + "that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." +</p> +<p> + "'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. +</p> +<p> + "She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. + Evans, unheeding. "She understands men—" +</p> +<p> + "I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. +</p> +<p> + "And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman + takes the chair. Those in favour—" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed + defiantly at a row of palms. +</p> +<p> + "Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men + held their breath. +</p> +<p> + "It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." +</p> +<p> + "Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is + nine points of the law. I'm here and—" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly + and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. +</p> +<p> + "Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. +</p> +<p> + "Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and + the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all + haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his + appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't + you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called + a man. If my wife was carrying on like this——" +</p> +<p> + "I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. +</p> +<p> + "I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded + gently from the room. +</p> +<p> + "Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, + hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." +</p> +<p> + A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and + communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense + pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what + had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His + companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, + followed him. +</p> +<p> + It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They + lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with + flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and + the men victorious. +</p> +<p> + "Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right + to strike, after all." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, + calmly. +</p> +<p> + Her husband swallowed. "You—you don't understand 'ow these things are + done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne—negotiate." +</p> +<p> + "All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." +</p> +<p> + "Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. +</p> +<p> + And Mrs. Porter said it. +</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + +***** This file should be named 11480-h.htm or 11480-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/8/11480/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Striking Hard + Deep Waters, Part 10. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: March 6, 2004 [EBook #11480] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +DEEP WATERS + +By W.W. JACOBS + + + + +STRIKING HARD + +"You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on +its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. + +"Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood +it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with +I don't suppose you'd believe me." + +"Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them +that like 'em. They're no good to me." + +"We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her +husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The +people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." + +"I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If +they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you +remember the last time you went on strike?" + +"This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. + +"All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we +had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are +we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in +the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why +not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a +bit?" + +Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our +committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best +speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll +eat my 'ead." + +"It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took +up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed +her work. + +Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable +slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a +good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, +passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he +went briskly downstairs. + +It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air +the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly +collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and +angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, +stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have +had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a +box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a +cigarette. + +"Susan!" he exclaimed. + +Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of +smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. + +"Wot--wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. + +Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose +just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the +rest. Will it hurt me?" + +"Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the +kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" + +"I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on +strike." + +Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On +strike? Nonsense! You can't be." + +"O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to +it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to +do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." + +She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her +plump knees, eyes him steadily. + +"But--but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides +--I won't 'ave it!" + +Mrs. Porter laughed--a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of +hardness in it. + +"All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike +for?" + +"Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. + +His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" + +She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a +paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub +of the first. + +"That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and +addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without +thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they +look at it all round, and upside down, and--and--make sure it can be +done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you +do--not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first--is to go on strike. +If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you +to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." + +"Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. + +"Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from +school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't +they?" + +"That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. + +"After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be +put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and +dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's +shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." + +"I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." + +"And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. + +"The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and +cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," +was the reply. + +"I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with +sudden heat. "Mind that!" + +"I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy +man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." + +"Strong--'ealthy--man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. +"Strong--'eal---- Wot are you talking about?" + +Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. + +There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of +expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. + +"You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there +smiling and smoking like a--like a man, but if you think that I'm going +to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, +you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" + +Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," +she said, entering the house. + +"Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. + +"Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the +reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave +bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." + +"I forbid you to leave this 'ouse !" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling +voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and +all the kids dirty and starving." + +"Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. + +Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A +glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in +the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. + +He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning +home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four +children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with +the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother +was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in +stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, +acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. + +The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the +tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating +orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had +taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his +pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the +assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and +placed one of them in the dustbin. + +The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and +watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage +which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of +relief heralded its return to the pan. + +"Mother always--" began the eldest boy. + +Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the +critic's head. + +The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned +to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their +rightful owners. + +"Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted +in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. + +"Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. + +"If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know +it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is +Africa in?" + +"Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. + +"Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it +in?" + +"Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. + +"And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. +"Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And +mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." + +He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up +the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice +changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his +fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple +of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate +themselves to his figure. + +He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too +lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. + +"Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he +said, crisply. + +"I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I +married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, +mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf +is better than--'" + +The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three +lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering +frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a +deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute +to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while +she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only +relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few +ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her +deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. + +He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on +his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the +entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for +the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he +strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his +colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little +natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice +upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. + +"I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, +hastily. + +"I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me +last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to +join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." + +Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. + +Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I +might go too far, once I started." + +"What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. + +"She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," +said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this +afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try +kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep +her on bread and water." + +He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after +wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day +with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and +provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. +The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold +tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry +and eager, completed his discomfiture. + +For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. +Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of +amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even +offered to give him a little instruction--verbal--in scrubbing the +kitchen-floor. + +Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full +height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also +contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then +he set off down the street in quest of a staff. + +He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a +few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully +undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her +spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care +of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked +the same evening at the Lord Nelson. + +It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, +and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a +free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready +(roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike +he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The +children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the +virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were +greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple +of days with Aunt Jane. + +"What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by +a lady-friend. + +"What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with +the family. + +"That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. + +Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he +replied, uneasily. + +"Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. +Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" + +"Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. + +"A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. + +"Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. + +"Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued +Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what +comes of not having pickets." + +"Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her +head. + +"A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" + +"Put her out," counselled her friend. + +"Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! +I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" + +Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate +Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and +looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was +barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she +dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy +in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of +thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the +accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the +other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the +intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of +hysterics. + +"And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said +Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" + +"If you 'ad some husbands--" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. + +"Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, +taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. +She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." + +Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying +good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. +Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing +seriousness of his position. + +In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made +harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. +Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing +touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour +to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a +reception that took her breath away. + +It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far +unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished +and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the +furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- +chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or +seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a +lower sphere. + +"It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. + +"Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. + +"Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are +coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" + +Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. + +"Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice--"the lady +what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't +been kept in since. I wish you----" + +She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out +of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them +thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man +could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. + +He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past +three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, +clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, +an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. +Glasses and teacups were filled. + +"Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the +business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another +meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' +course, if it should happen that we ain't finished----" + +"Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping +in at the winder already," said a voice. + +"Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able +to see how to run a meeting." + +"There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be +able to keep a straight face!" + +"H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to +open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to +consider about this strike----" + +The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room +in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. + +"Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the +eyes of Mrs. Gorman----"strike--er--strike----" + +"He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he +did." + +"Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this--this--er--" + +"Strike," prompted the same voice. + +Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, +sat staring straight before him. + +"I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, +"that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." + +"'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. + +"She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. +Evans, unheeding. "She understands men--" + +"I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. + +"And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman +takes the chair. Those in favour--" + +Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed +defiantly at a row of palms. + +"Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. + +Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men +held their breath. + +"It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." + +"Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is +nine points of the law. I'm here and--" + +Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly +and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. + +"Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" + +Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. + +"Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. + +Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and +the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all +haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his +appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. + +"What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't +you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called +a man. If my wife was carrying on like this----" + +"I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. + +Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. + +"I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded +gently from the room. + +"Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, +hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." + +A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and +communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense +pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what +had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His +companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, +followed him. + +It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They +lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with +flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and +the men victorious. + +"Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right +to strike, after all." + +Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, +calmly. + +Her husband swallowed. "You--you don't understand 'ow these things are +done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne--negotiate." + +"All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." + +"Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. + +And Mrs. Porter said it. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + +***** This file should be named 11480.txt or 11480.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/8/11480/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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Jacobs. +</title> +<style type="text/css"> + <!-- + body {background:#faebd7} + * { font-family: Times; + } + P { text-indent: 1em; + margin: 15%; + margin-top: .75em; + font-size: 14pt; + text-align: justify; + margin-bottom: .75em; } + H1,H2,H3,H4,H5,H6 { text-align: center; color:#A82C28} + HR { width: 33%; } + PRE { font-family: Courier, monospaced;} + .toc { margin-left: 15%; font-size: 14pt; margin-bottom: 0em;} + CENTER { padding: 10px;} + // --> +</style> +</head> +<body> + + +<pre> + +The Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere at no cost and with +almost no restrictions whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Striking Hard + Deep Waters, Part 10. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: March 6, 2004 [EBook #11480] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + +</pre> + + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="cover (95K)" src="cover.jpg" height="787" width="632" /> +</center> +<br><br><br><br> + + +<h1> + DEEP WATERS +</h1> +<center><h2> + By W.W. JACOBS +</h2></center> + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="title (39K)" src="title.jpg" height="617" width="488" /> +</center> +<br><br> + + +<br><br> +<center> +<img alt="001 (37K)" src="001.jpg" height="670" width="480" /> +</center> +<br><br> + +<br><br><hr><br><br> + + + +<a name="2H_4_10"><!-- H2 anchor --></a> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<p> </p> +<h1> + STRIKING HARD +</h1> +<br /><br /> +<p> + "You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on + its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. +</p> +<p> + "Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood + it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with + I don't suppose you'd believe me." +</p> +<p> + "Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them + that like 'em. They're no good to me." +</p> +<p> + "We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her + husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The + people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." +</p> +<p> + "I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If + they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you + remember the last time you went on strike?" +</p> +<p> + "This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. +</p> +<p> + "All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we + had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are + we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in + the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why + not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a + bit?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our + committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best + speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll + eat my 'ead." +</p> +<p> + "It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took + up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed + her work. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable + slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a + good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, + passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he + went briskly downstairs. +</p> +<p> + It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air + the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly + collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and + angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, + stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have + had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a + box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a + cigarette. +</p> +<p> + "Susan!" he exclaimed. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of + smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. +</p> +<p> + "Wot—wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose + just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the + rest. Will it hurt me?" +</p> +<p> + "Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the + kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" +</p> +<p> + "I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on + strike." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On + strike? Nonsense! You can't be." +</p> +<p> + "O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to + it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to + do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." +</p> +<p> + She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her + plump knees, eyes him steadily. +</p> +<p> + "But—but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides + —I won't 'ave it!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter laughed—a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of + hardness in it. +</p> +<p> + "All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike + for?" +</p> +<p> + "Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. +</p> +<p> + His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" +</p> +<p> + She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a + paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub + of the first. +</p> +<p> + "That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and + addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without + thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they + look at it all round, and upside down, and—and—make sure it can be + done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you + do—not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first—is to go on strike. + If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you + to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." +</p> +<p> + "Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from + school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't + they?" +</p> +<p> + "That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. +</p> +<p> + "After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be + put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and + dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's + shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." +</p> +<p> + "I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." +</p> +<p> + "And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and + cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," + was the reply. +</p> +<p> + "I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with + sudden heat. "Mind that!" +</p> +<p> + "I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy + man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." +</p> +<p> + "Strong—'ealthy—man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. + "Strong—'eal—— Wot are you talking about?" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. +</p> +<p> + There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of + expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. +</p> +<p> + "You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there + smiling and smoking like a—like a man, but if you think that I'm going + to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, + you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," + she said, entering the house. +</p> +<p> + "Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. +</p> +<p> + "Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the + reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave + bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." +</p> +<p> + "I forbid you to leave this 'ouse !" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling + voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and + all the kids dirty and starving." +</p> +<p> + "Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. +</p> +<p> + Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A + glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in + the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. +</p> +<p> + He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning + home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four + children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with + the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother + was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in + stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, + acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. +</p> +<p> + The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the + tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating + orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had + taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his + pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the + assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and + placed one of them in the dustbin. +</p> +<p> + The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and + watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage + which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of + relief heralded its return to the pan. +</p> +<p> + "Mother always—" began the eldest boy. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the + critic's head. +</p> +<p> + The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned + to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their + rightful owners. +</p> +<p> + "Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted + in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. +</p> +<p> + "Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. +</p> +<p> + "If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know + it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is + Africa in?" +</p> +<p> + "Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. +</p> +<p> + "Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it + in?" +</p> +<p> + "Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. +</p> +<p> + "And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. + "Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And + mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." +</p> +<p> + He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up + the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice + changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his + fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple + of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate + themselves to his figure. +</p> +<p> + He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too + lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. +</p> +<p> + "Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he + said, crisply. +</p> +<p> + "I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I + married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, + mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf + is better than—'" +</p> +<p> + The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three + lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering + frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a + deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute + to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while + she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only + relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few + ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her + deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. +</p> +<p> + He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on + his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the + entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for + the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he + strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his + colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little + natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice + upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. +</p> +<p> + "I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, + hastily. +</p> +<p> + "I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me + last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to + join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I + might go too far, once I started." +</p> +<p> + "What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. +</p> +<p> + "She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," + said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this + afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try + kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep + her on bread and water." +</p> +<p> + He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after + wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day + with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and + provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. + The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold + tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry + and eager, completed his discomfiture. +</p> +<p> + For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. + Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of + amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even + offered to give him a little instruction—verbal—in scrubbing the + kitchen-floor. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full + height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also + contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then + he set off down the street in quest of a staff. +</p> +<p> + He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a + few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully + undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her + spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care + of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked + the same evening at the Lord Nelson. +</p> +<p> + It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, + and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a + free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready + (roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike + he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The + children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the + virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were + greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple + of days with Aunt Jane. +</p> +<p> + "What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by + a lady-friend. +</p> +<p> + "What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with + the family. +</p> +<p> + "That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he + replied, uneasily. +</p> +<p> + "Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. + Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" +</p> +<p> + "Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. +</p> +<p> + "A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. +</p> +<p> + "Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. +</p> +<p> + "Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued + Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what + comes of not having pickets." +</p> +<p> + "Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her + head. +</p> +<p> + "A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" +</p> +<p> + "Put her out," counselled her friend. +</p> +<p> + "Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! + I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" +</p> +<p> + Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate + Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and + looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was + barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she + dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy + in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of + thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the + accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the + other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the + intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of + hysterics. +</p> +<p> + "And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said + Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" +</p> +<p> + "If you 'ad some husbands—" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. +</p> +<p> + "Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, + taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. + She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying + good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. + Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing + seriousness of his position. +</p> +<p> + In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made + harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. + Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing + touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour + to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a + reception that took her breath away. +</p> +<p> + It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far + unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished + and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the + furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- + chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or + seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a + lower sphere. +</p> +<p> + "It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. +</p> +<p> + "Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. +</p> +<p> + "Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are + coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. +</p> +<p> + "Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice—"the lady + what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't + been kept in since. I wish you——" +</p> +<p> + She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out + of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them + thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man + could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. +</p> +<p> + He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past + three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, + clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, + an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. + Glasses and teacups were filled. +</p> +<p> + "Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the + business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another + meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' + course, if it should happen that we ain't finished——" +</p> +<p> + "Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping + in at the winder already," said a voice. +</p> +<p> + "Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able + to see how to run a meeting." +</p> +<p> + "There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be + able to keep a straight face!" +</p> +<p> + "H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to + open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to + consider about this strike——" +</p> +<p> + The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room + in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. +</p> +<p> + "Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the + eyes of Mrs. Gorman——"strike—er—strike——" +</p> +<p> + "He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he + did." +</p> +<p> + "Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this—this—er—" +</p> +<p> + "Strike," prompted the same voice. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, + sat staring straight before him. +</p> +<p> + "I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, + "that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." +</p> +<p> + "'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. +</p> +<p> + "She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. + Evans, unheeding. "She understands men—" +</p> +<p> + "I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. +</p> +<p> + "And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman + takes the chair. Those in favour—" +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed + defiantly at a row of palms. +</p> +<p> + "Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men + held their breath. +</p> +<p> + "It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." +</p> +<p> + "Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is + nine points of the law. I'm here and—" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly + and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. +</p> +<p> + "Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. +</p> +<p> + "Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and + the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all + haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his + appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. +</p> +<p> + "What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't + you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called + a man. If my wife was carrying on like this——" +</p> +<p> + "I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. +</p> +<p> + Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. +</p> +<p> + "I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded + gently from the room. +</p> +<p> + "Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, + hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." +</p> +<p> + A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and + communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense + pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what + had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His + companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, + followed him. +</p> +<p> + It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They + lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with + flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and + the men victorious. +</p> +<p> + "Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right + to strike, after all." +</p> +<p> + Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, + calmly. +</p> +<p> + Her husband swallowed. "You—you don't understand 'ow these things are + done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne—negotiate." +</p> +<p> + "All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." +</p> +<p> + "Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. +</p> +<p> + And Mrs. Porter said it. +</p> + + + + + + + + + + + + + + + +<pre> + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + +***** This file should be named 11480-h.htm or 11480-h.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/8/11480/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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You may copy it, give it away or +re-use it under the terms of the Project Gutenberg License included +with this eBook or online at www.gutenberg.org + + +Title: Striking Hard + Deep Waters, Part 10. + +Author: W.W. Jacobs + +Release Date: March 6, 2004 [EBook #11480] + +Language: English + +Character set encoding: US-ASCII + +*** START OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + + + + +Produced by David Widger + + + + + + +DEEP WATERS + +By W.W. JACOBS + + + + +STRIKING HARD + +"You've what?" demanded Mrs. Porter, placing the hot iron carefully on +its stand and turning a heated face on the head of the family. + +"Struck," repeated Mr. Porter; "and the only wonder to me is we've stood +it so long as we have. If I was to tell you all we've 'ad to put up with +I don't suppose you'd believe me." + +"Very likely," was the reply. "You can keep your fairy-tales for them +that like 'em. They're no good to me." + +"We stood it till flesh and blood could stand it no longer," declared her +husband, "and at last we came out, shoulder to shoulder, singing. The +people cheered us, and one of our leaders made 'em a speech." + +"I should have liked to 'ave heard the singing," remarked his wife. "If +they all sang like you, it must ha' been as good as a pantermime! Do you +remember the last time you went on strike?" + +"This is different," said Mr. Porter, with dignity. + +"All our things went, bit by bit," pursued his wife, "all the money we +had put by for a rainy day, and we 'ad to begin all over again. What are +we going to live on? O' course, you might earn something by singing in +the street; people who like funny faces might give you something! Why +not go upstairs and put your 'ead under the bed-clothes and practise a +bit?" + +Mr. Porter coughed. "It'll be all right," he said, confidently. "Our +committee knows what it's about; Bert Robinson is one of the best +speakers I've ever 'eard. If we don't all get five bob a week more I'll +eat my 'ead." + +"It's the best thing you could do with it," snapped his wife. She took +up her iron again, and turning an obstinate back to his remarks resumed +her work. + +Mr. Porter lay long next morning, and, dressing with comfortable +slowness, noticed with pleasure that the sun was shining. Visions of a +good breakfast and a digestive pipe, followed by a walk in the fresh air, +passed before his eyes as he laced his boots. Whistling cheerfully he +went briskly downstairs. + +It was an October morning, but despite the invigorating chill in the air +the kitchen-grate was cold and dull. Herring-bones and a disorderly +collection of dirty cups and platters graced the table. Perplexed and +angry, he looked around for his wife, and then, opening the back-door, +stood gaping with astonishment. The wife of his bosom, who should have +had a bright fire and a good breakfast waiting for him, was sitting on a +box in the sunshine, elbows on knees and puffing laboriously at a +cigarette. + +"Susan!" he exclaimed. + +Mrs. Porter turned, and, puffing out her lips, blew an immense volume of +smoke. "Halloa!" she said, carelessly. + +"Wot--wot does this mean?" demanded her husband. + +Mrs. Porter smiled with conscious pride. "I made it come out of my nose +just now," she replied. "At least, some of it did, and I swallowed the +rest. Will it hurt me?" + +"Where's my breakfast?" inquired the other, hotly. "Why ain't the +kitchen-fire alight? Wot do you think you're doing of?" + +"I'm not doing anything," said his wife, with an aggrieved air. "I'm on +strike." + +Mr. Porter reeled against the door-post. "Wot!" he stammered. "On +strike? Nonsense! You can't be." + +"O, yes, I can," retorted Mrs. Porter, closing one eye and ministering to +it hastily with the corner of her apron. "Not 'aving no Bert Robinson to +do it for me, I made a little speech all to myself, and here I am." + +She dropped her apron, replaced the cigarette, and, with her hands on her +plump knees, eyes him steadily. + +"But--but this ain't a factory," objected the dismayed man; "and, besides +--I won't 'ave it!" + +Mrs. Porter laughed--a fat, comfortable laugh, but with a touch of +hardness in it. + +"All right, mate," she said, comfortably. "What are you out on strike +for?" + +"Shorter hours and more money," said Mr. Porter, glaring at her. + +His wife nodded. "So am I," she said. "I wonder who gets it first?" + +She smiled agreeably at the bewildered Mr. Porter, and, extracting a +paper packet of cigarettes from her pocket, lit a fresh one at the stub +of the first. + +"That's the worst of a woman," said her husband, avoiding her eye and +addressing a sanitary dustbin of severe aspect; "they do things without +thinking first. That's why men are superior; before they do a thing they +look at it all round, and upside down, and--and--make sure it can be +done. Now, you get up in a temper this morning, and the first thing you +do--not even waiting to get my breakfast ready first--is to go on strike. +If you'd thought for two minutes you'd see as 'ow it's impossible for you +to go on strike for more than a couple of hours or so." + +"Why?" inquired Mrs. Porter. + +"Kids," replied her husband, triumphantly. "They'll be coming 'ome from +school soon, won't they? And they'll be wanting their dinner, won't +they?" + +"That's all right," murmured the other, vaguely. + +"After which, when night comes," pursued Mr. Porter, "they'll 'ave to be +put to bed. In the morning they'll 'ave to be got up and washed and +dressed and given their breakfast and sent off to school. Then there's +shopping wot must be done, and beds wot must be made." + +"I'll make ours," said his wife, decidedly. "For my own sake." + +"And wot about the others?" inquired Mr. Porter. + +"The others'll be made by the same party as washes the children, and +cooks their dinner for 'em, and puts 'em to bed, and cleans the 'ouse," +was the reply. + +"I'm not going to have your mother 'ere," exclaimed Mr. Porter, with +sudden heat. "Mind that!" + +"I don't want her," said Mrs. Porter. "It's a job for a strong, healthy +man, not a pore old thing with swelled legs and short in the breath." + +"Strong--'ealthy--man!" repeated her husband, in a dazed voice. +"Strong--'eal---- Wot are you talking about?" + +Mrs. Porter beamed on him. "You," she said, sweetly. + +There was a long silence, broken at last by a firework display of +expletives. Mrs. Porter, still smiling, sat unmoved. + +"You may smile!" raved the indignant Mr. Porter. "You may sit there +smiling and smoking like a--like a man, but if you think that I'm going +to get the meals ready, and soil my 'ands with making beds and washing-up, +you're mistook. There's some 'usbands I know as would set about you!" + +Mrs. Porter rose. "Well, I can't sit here gossiping with you all day," +she said, entering the house. + +"Wot are you going to do?" demanded her husband, following her. + +"Going to see Aunt Jane and 'ave a bit o' dinner with her," was the +reply. "And after that I think I shall go to the 'pictures.' If you 'ave +bloaters for dinner be very careful with little Jemmy and the bones." + +"I forbid you to leave this 'ouse !" said Mr. Porter, in a thrilling +voice. "If you do you won't find nothing done when you come home, and +all the kids dirty and starving." + +"Cheerio!" said Mrs. Porter. + +Arrayed in her Sunday best she left the house half an hour later. A +glance over her shoulder revealed her husband huddled up in a chair in +the dirty kitchen, gazing straight before him at the empty grate. + +He made a hearty breakfast at a neighbouring coffee-shop, and, returning +home, lit the fire and sat before it, smoking. The return of the four +children from school, soon after midday, found him still wrestling with +the difficulties of the situation. His announcement that their mother +was out and that there would be no dinner was received at first in +stupefied silence. Then Jemmy, opening his mouth to its widest extent, +acted as conductor to an all-too-willing chorus. + +The noise was unbearable, and Mr. Porter said so. Pleased with the +tribute, the choir re-doubled its efforts, and Mr. Porter, vociferating +orders for silence, saw only too clearly the base advantage his wife had +taken of his affection for his children. He took some money from his +pocket and sent the leading treble out marketing, after which, with the +assistance of a soprano aged eight, he washed up the breakfast things and +placed one of them in the dustbin. + +The entire family stood at his elbow as he cooked the dinner, and +watched, with bated breath, his frantic efforts to recover a sausage +which had fallen out of the frying-pan into the fire. A fourfold sigh of +relief heralded its return to the pan. + +"Mother always--" began the eldest boy. + +Mr. Porter took his scorched fingers out of his mouth and smacked the +critic's head. + +The dinner was not a success. Portions of half-cooked sausages returned +to the pan, and coming back in the guise of cinders failed to find their +rightful owners. + +"Last time we had sausages," said the eight-year-old Muriel, "they melted +in your mouth." Mr. Porter glowered at her. + +"Instead of in the fire," said the eldest boy, with a mournful snigger. + +"If I get up to you, my lad," said the harassed Mr. Porter, "you'll know +it! Pity you don't keep your sharpness for your lessons! Wot country is +Africa in?" + +"Why, Africa's a continent!" said the startled youth. + +"Jes so," said his father; "but wot I'm asking you is: wot country is it +in?" + +"Asia," said the reckless one, with a side-glance at Muriel. + +"And why couldn't you say so before?" demanded Mr. Porter, sternly. +"Now, you go to the sink and give yourself a thorough good wash. And +mind you come straight home from school. There's work to be done." + +He did some of it himself after the children had gone, and finished up +the afternoon with a little shopping, in the course of which he twice +changed his grocer and was threatened with an action for slander by his +fishmonger. He returned home with his clothes bulging, although a couple +of eggs in the left-hand coat-pocket had done their best to accommodate +themselves to his figure. + +He went to bed at eleven o'clock, and at a quarter past, clad all too +lightly for the job, sped rapidly downstairs to admit his wife. + +"Some 'usbands would 'ave let you sleep on the doorstep all night," he +said, crisply. + +"I know they would," returned his wife, cheerfully. "That's why I +married you. I remember the first time I let you come 'ome with me, +mother ses: 'There ain't much of 'im, Susan,' she ses; 'still, arf a loaf +is better than--'" + +The bedroom-door slammed behind the indignant Mr. Porter, and the three +lumps and a depression which had once been a bed received his quivering +frame again. With the sheet obstinately drawn over his head he turned a +deaf ear to his wife's panegyrics on striking and her heartfelt tribute +to the end of a perfect day. Even when standing on the cold floor while +she remade the bed he maintained an attitude of unbending dignity, only +relaxing when she smote him light-heartedly with the bolster. In a few +ill-chosen words he expressed his opinion of her mother and her +deplorable methods of bringing up her daughters. + +He rose early next morning, and, after getting his own breakfast, put on +his cap and went out, closing the street-door with a bang that awoke the +entire family and caused the somnolent Mrs. Porter to open one eye for +the purpose of winking with it. Slowly, as became a man of leisure, he +strolled down to the works, and, moving from knot to knot of his +colleagues, discussed the prospects of victory. Later on, with a little +natural diffidence, he drew Mr. Bert Robinson apart and asked his advice +upon a situation which was growing more and more difficult. + +"I've got my hands pretty full as it is, you know," said Mr. Robinson, +hastily. + +"I know you 'ave, Bert," murmured the other. "But, you see, she told me +last night she's going to try and get some of the other chaps' wives to +join 'er, so I thought I ought to tell you." + +Mr. Robinson started. "Have you tried giving her a hiding?" he inquired. + +Mr. Porter shook his head. "I daren't trust myself," he replied. "I +might go too far, once I started." + +"What about appealing to her better nature?" inquired the other. + +"She ain't got one," said the unfortunate. "Well, I'm sorry for you," +said Mr. Robinson, "but I'm busy. I've got to see a Labour-leader this +afternoon, and two reporters, and this evening there's the meeting. Try +kindness first, and if that don't do, lock her up in her bedroom and keep +her on bread and water." + +He moved off to confer with his supporters, and Mr. Porter, after +wandering aimlessly about for an hour or two, returned home at mid-day +with a faint hope that his wife might have seen the error of her ways and +provided dinner for him. He found the house empty and the beds unmade. +The remains of breakfast stood on the kitchen-table, and a puddle of cold +tea decorated the floor. The arrival of the children from school, hungry +and eager, completed his discomfiture. + +For several days he wrestled grimly with the situation, while Mrs. +Porter, who had planned out her week into four days of charing, two of +amusement, and Sunday in bed, looked on with smiling approval. She even +offered to give him a little instruction--verbal--in scrubbing the +kitchen-floor. + +Mr. Porter, who was on his knees at the time, rose slowly to his full +height, and, with a superb gesture, emptied the bucket, which also +contained a scrubbing-brush and lump of soap, into the back-yard. Then +he set off down the street in quest of a staff. + +He found it in the person of Maudie Stevens, aged fourteen, who lived a +few doors lower down. Fresh from school the week before, she cheerfully +undertook to do the housework and cooking, and to act as nursemaid in her +spare time. Her father, on his part, cheerfully under-took to take care +of her wages for her, the first week's, payable in advance, being banked +the same evening at the Lord Nelson. + +It was another mouth to feed, but the strike-pay was coming in very well, +and Mr. Porter, relieved from his unmanly tasks, walked the streets a +free man. Beds were made without his interference, meals were ready +(roughly) at the appointed hour, and for the first time since the strike +he experienced satisfaction in finding fault with the cook. The +children's content was not so great, Maudie possessing a faith in the +virtues of soap and water that they made no attempt to share. They were +greatly relieved when their mother returned home after spending a couple +of days with Aunt Jane. + +"What's all this?" she demanded, as she entered the kitchen, followed by +a lady-friend. + +"What's all what?" inquired Mr. Porter, who was sitting at dinner with +the family. + +"That," said his wife, pointing at the cook-general. + +Mr. Porter put down his knife and fork. "Got 'er in to help," he +replied, uneasily. + +"Do you hear that?" demanded his wife, turning to her friend, Mrs. +Gorman. "Oh, these masters!" + +"Ah!" said her friend, vaguely. + +"A strike-breaker!" said Mrs. Porter, rolling her eyes. + +"Shame!" said Mrs. Gorman, beginning to understand. + +"Coming after my job, and taking the bread out of my mouth," continued +Mrs. Porter, fluently. "Underselling me too, I'll be bound. That's what +comes of not having pickets." + +"Unskilled labour," said Mrs. Gorman, tightening her lips and shaking her +head. + +"A scab!" cried Mrs. Porter, wildly. "A scab!" + +"Put her out," counselled her friend. + +"Put her out!" repeated Mrs. Porter, in a terrible voice. "Put her out! +I'll tear her limb from limb! I'll put her in the copper and boil her!" + +Her voice was so loud and her appearance so alarming that the unfortunate +Maudie, emitting three piercing shrieks, rose hastily from the table and +looked around for a way of escape. The road to the front-door was +barred, and with a final yelp that set her employer's teeth on edge she +dashed into the yard and went home via the back-fences. Housewives busy +in their kitchens looked up in amazement at the spectacle of a pair of +thin black legs descending one fence, scudding across the yard to the +accompaniment of a terrified moaning, and scrambling madly over the +other. At her own back-door Maudie collapsed on the step, and, to the +intense discomfort and annoyance of her father, had her first fit of +hysterics. + +"And the next scab that comes into my house won't get off so easy," said +Mrs. Porter to her husband. "D'you understand?" + +"If you 'ad some husbands--" began Mr. Porter, trembling with rage. + +"Yes, I know," said his wife, nodding. "Don't cry, Jemmy," she added, +taking the youngest on her knee. "Mother's only having a little game. +She and dad are both on strike for more pay and less work." + +Mr. Porter got up, and without going through the formality of saying +good-bye to the hard-featured Mrs. Gorman, put on his cap and went out. +Over a couple of half-pints taken as a sedative, he realized the growing +seriousness of his position. + +In a dull resigned fashion he took up his household duties again, made +harder now than before by the scandalous gossip of the aggrieved Mr. +Stevens. The anonymous present of a much-worn apron put the finishing +touch to his discomfiture; and the well-meant offer of a fair neighbour +to teach him how to shake a mat without choking himself met with a +reception that took her breath away. + +It was a surprise to him one afternoon to find that his wife had so far +unbent as to tidy up the parlour. Ornaments had been dusted and polished +and the carpet swept. She had even altered the position of the +furniture. The table had been pushed against the wall, and the easy- +chair, with its back to the window, stood stiffly confronting six or +seven assorted chairs, two of which at least had been promoted from a +lower sphere. + +"It's for the meeting," said Muriel, peeping in. + +"Meeting?" repeated her father, in a dazed voice. + +"Strike-meetings," was the reply. "Mrs. Gorman and some other ladies are +coming at four o'clock. Didn't mother tell you?" + +Mr. Porter, staring helplessly at the row of chairs, shook his head. + +"Mrs. Evans is coming," continued Muriel, in a hushed voice--"the lady +what punched Mr. Brown because he kept Bobbie Evans in one day. He ain't +been kept in since. I wish you----" + +She stopped suddenly, and, held by her father's gaze, backed slowly out +of the room. Mr. Porter, left with the chairs, stood regarding them +thoughtfully. Their emptiness made an appeal that no right-minded man +could ignore. He put his hand over his mouth and his eyes watered. + +He spent the next half-hour in issuing invitations, and at half-past +three every chair was filled by fellow-strikers. Three cans of beer, +clay pipes, and a paper of shag stood on the table. Mr. Benjamin Todd, +an obese, fresh-coloured gentleman of middle age, took the easy-chair. +Glasses and teacups were filled. + +"Gentlemen," said Mr. Todd, lighting his pipe, "afore we get on to the +business of this meeting I want to remind you that there is another +meeting, of ladies, at four o'clock; so we've got to hurry up. O' +course, if it should happen that we ain't finished----" + +"Go on, Bennie!" said a delighted admirer. "I see a female 'ead peeping +in at the winder already," said a voice. + +"Let 'em peep," said Mr. Todd, benignly. "Then p'r'aps they'll be able +to see how to run a meeting." + +"There's two more 'eads," said the other. "Oh, Lord, I know I sha'n't be +able to keep a straight face!" + +"H'sh!" commanded Mr. Todd, sternly, as the street-door was heard to +open. "Be'ave yourself. As I was saying, the thing we've got to +consider about this strike----" + +The door opened, and six ladies, headed by Mrs. Porter, entered the room +in single file and ranged themselves silently along the wall. + +"Strike," proceeded Mr. Todd, who found himself gazing uneasily into the +eyes of Mrs. Gorman----"strike--er--strike----" + +"He said that before," said a stout lady, in a loud whisper; "I'm sure he +did." + +"Is," continued Mr. Todd, "that we have got to keep this--this--er--" + +"Strike," prompted the same voice. + +Mr. Todd paused, and, wiping his mouth with a red pocket-handkerchief, +sat staring straight before him. + +"I move," said Mrs. Evans, her sharp features twitching with excitement, +"that Mrs. Gorman takes the chair." + +"'Ow can I take it when he's sitting in it?" demanded that lady. + +"She's a lady that knows what she wants and how to get it," pursued Mrs. +Evans, unheeding. "She understands men--" + +"I've buried two 'usbands," murmured Mrs. Gorman, nodding. + +"And how to manage them," continued Mrs. Evans. "I move that Mrs. Gorman +takes the chair. Those in favour--" + +Mr. Todd, leaning back in his chair and gripping the arms, gazed +defiantly at a row of palms. + +"Carried unanimously!" snapped Mrs. Evans. + +Mrs. Gorman, tall and bony, advanced and stood over Mr. Todd. Strong men +held their breath. + +"It's my chair," she said, gruffly. "I've been moved into it." + +"Possession," said Mr. Todd, in as firm a voice as he could manage, "is +nine points of the law. I'm here and--" + +Mrs. Gorman turned, and, without the slightest warning, sat down suddenly +and heavily in his lap. A hum of admiration greeted the achievement. + +"Get up!" shouted the horrified Mr. Todd. "Get up!" + +Mrs. Gorman settled herself more firmly. + +"Let me get up," said Mr. Todd, panting. + +Mrs. Gorman rose, but remained in a hovering position, between which and +the chair Mr. Todd, flushed and dishevelled, extricated himself in all +haste. A shrill titter of laughter and a clapping of hands greeted his +appearance. He turned furiously on the pallid Mr. Porter. + +"What d'you mean by it?" he demanded. "Are you the master, or ain't +you? A man what can't keep order in his own house ain't fit to be called +a man. If my wife was carrying on like this----" + +"I wish I was your wife," said Mrs. Gorman, moistening her lips. + +Mr. Todd turned slowly and surveyed her. + +"I don't," he said, simply, and, being by this time near the door, faded +gently from the room. + +"Order!" cried Mrs. Gorman, thumping the arm of her chair with a large, +hard-working fist. "Take your seats, ladies." + +A strange thrill passed through the bodies of her companions and +communicated itself to the men in the chairs. There was a moment's tense +pause, and then the end man, muttering something about "going to see what +had happened to poor old Ben Todd," rose slowly and went out. His +companions, with heads erect and a look of cold disdain upon their faces, +followed him. + +It was Mr. Porter's last meeting, but his wife had several more. They +lasted, in fact, until the day, a fortnight later, when he came in with +flushed face and sparkling eyes to announce that the strike was over and +the men victorious. + +"Six bob a week more!" he said, with enthusiasm. "You see, I was right +to strike, after all." + +Mrs. Porter eyed him. "I am out for four bob a week more," she said, +calmly. + +Her husband swallowed. "You--you don't understand 'ow these things are +done," he said, at last. "It takes time. We ought to ne--negotiate." + +"All right," said Mrs. Porter, readily. "Seven shillings a week, then." + +"Let's say four and have done with it," exclaimed the other, hastily. + +And Mrs. Porter said it. + + + + + + + +End of the Project Gutenberg EBook of Striking Hard, by W.W. Jacobs + +*** END OF THIS PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK STRIKING HARD *** + +***** This file should be named 11480.txt or 11480.zip ***** +This and all associated files of various formats will be found in: + https://www.gutenberg.org/1/1/4/8/11480/ + +Produced by David Widger + +Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions +will be renamed. + +Creating the works from public domain print editions means that no +one owns a United States copyright in these works, so the Foundation +(and you!) can copy and distribute it in the United States without +permission and without paying copyright royalties. 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