Produced by Andrew Templeton, Juliet Sutherland, Thomas
Berger, and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team.
by
… metus ille … Acheruntis … Funditus humanam qui vitam turbat ab imo
In two volumes
Vol. II.
"Look out there! For God's sake, go to your places!"
The cry of the foreman reached the ears of the clinging women. They fellapart—each peering into the crowd and the tumult.
Mounted on a block of wood about a dozen yards from them—waving his armand shouting to the stream of panic-stricken workmen—they saw the manwho had been their guide through the works. Four white-hot ingots, justuncovered, blazed deserted on their truck close to him, and a multitudeof men and boys were pushing past them, tumbling over each other in theireagerness to reach the neighbourhood of the furnace. The space betweenthe ingots and some machinery near them was perilously narrow. At anymoment, those rushing past might have been pushed against thedeath-bearing truck. Ah! another cry. A man's coat-sleeve has caughtfire. He is pulled back—another coat is flung about him—the line ofwhite faces turns towards him an instant—wavers—then the crowd flows onas before.
Another man in authority comes up also shouting. The man on the blockdismounts, and the two hold rapid colloquy. "Have they sent for Mr.Martin?" "Aye." "Where's Mr. Barlow?" "He's no good!" "Have they stoppedthe mills?" "Aye—there's not a man'll touch a thing—you'd think they'dgone clean out of their minds. There'll be accidents all over the placeif somebody can't quiet 'em."
Suddenly the buzzing groups behind the foreman parted, and a youngbroad-shouldered workman, grimed from head to foot, his blue eyes rollingin his black face, came staggering through.
"Gie ma a drink," he said, clutching at the old woman; "an let ma sitdown!"
He almost fell upon an iron barrow that lay face downwards on the path.Laura, sitting crouched and sick upon the ground, raised her head to lookat him. Another man, evidently a comrade, followed him, took the mug ofcold tea from the old woman's shaking hand, lifted his head and helpedhim drink it.
"Blast yer!—why ain't it spirits?" said the youth, throwing himself backagainst his companion. His eyes closed on his smeared cheeks; his jawfell; his whole frame seemed to sink into collapse; those gazing at himsaw, as it were, the dislocation and undoing of a man.
"Cheer up, Ned—cheer up," said the older man, kneeling down behindhim—"you'll get over it, my boy—it worn't none o' your fault. Standback there, you fellows, and gie im air."
"Oh, damn yer! let ma be," gasped the young fellow, stretching himselfagainst the other's support, like one who feels the whole inner being ofhim sick to death, and cannot be still for an instant under the anguish.
The woman with the tea began to cry loudly and ask questions. Laura roseto her feet, and touched her.
"Don't cry—can't you get some brandy?" Then in her turn she f