The Stillwater Tragedy (Mystery Classics Series). Thomas Bailey Aldrich

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      Chapter VII

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      Richard made an early start that morning in search of employment, and duplicated the failure of the previous day. Nobody wanted him. If nobody wanted him in the village where he was born and bred, a village of counting-rooms and workshops, was any other place likely to need him? He had only one hope, if it could be called a hope; at any rate, he had treated it tenderly as such and kept it for the last. He would apply to Rowland Slocum. Long ago, when Richard was an urchin making pot-hooks in the lane, the man used occasionally to pat him on the head and give him pennies. This was not a foundation on which to rear a very lofty castle; but this was all he had.

      It was noon when Richard approached the marble yard, and the men were pouring out into the street through the wide gate in the rough deal fence which inclosed the works,--heavy, brawny men, covered with fine white dust, who shouldered each other like cattle, and took the sidewalk to themselves. Richard stepped aside to let them pass, eying them curiously as possible comrades. Suddenly a slim dark fellow, who had retained his paper cap and leather apron, halted and thrust forth a horny hand. The others went on.

      "Hullo, Dick Shackford!"

      "What, is that you, Will? You here?"

      "Been here two years now. One of Slocum's apprentices," added Durgin, with an air of easy grandeur.

      "Two years? How time flies--when it doesn't crawl! Do you like it?"

      "My time will be out next--Oh, the work? Well, yes; it's not bad, and there's a jolly set in the yard. But how about you? I heard last night you'd got home. Been everywhere and come back wealthy? The boys used to say you was off pirating."

      "No such luck," answered Richard, with a smile. "I didn't prey on the high seas,--quite the contrary. The high sea captured my kit and four years' savings. I will tell you about it some day. If I have a limb to my name and a breath left to my body, it is no thanks to the Indian Ocean. That is all I have got, Will, and I am looking around for bread and butter,--literally bread and butter."

      "No? and the old gentleman so rich!"

      Durgin said this with sincere indignation, and was perhaps unconscious himself of experiencing that nameless, shadowy satisfaction which Rochefoucauld says we find in the adversity of our best friends. Certainly Richard looked very seedy in his suit of slop-shop clothes.

      "I was on my way to Mr. Slocum's to see if I could do anything with him," Richard continued.

      "To get a job, do you mean?"

      "Yes, to get work,--to learn how to work; to master a trade, in short."

      "You can't be an apprentice, you know," said Durgin.

      "Why not?"

      "Slocum has two."

      "Suppose he should happen to want another? He might."

      "The Association wouldn't allow it."

      "What Association?"

      "The Marble Workers' Association, of course."

      "They wouldn't allow it! How is that?"

      "This the way of it. Slocum is free to take on two apprentices every year, but no more. That prevents workmen increasing too fast, and so keeps up wages. The Marble Workers' Association is a very neat thing, I can tell you."

      "But doesn't Mr. Slocum own the yard? I thought he did."

      "Yes, he owns the yard."

      "If he wished to extend the business, couldn't he employ more hands?"

      "As many as he could get,--skilled workmen; but not apprentices."

      "And Mr. Slocum agrees to that?" inquired Richard.

      "He does."

      "And likes it?"

      "Not he,--he hates it; but he can't help himself."

      "Upon my soul, I don't see what prevents him taking on as many apprentices as he wants to."

      "Why, the Association, to be sure," returned Durgin, glancing at the town clock, which marked seven minutes past the hour.

      "But how could they stop him?"

      "In plenty of ways. Suppose Slocum has a lot of unfinished contracts on hand,--he always has fat contracts,--and the men was to knock off work. That would be kind of awkward, wouldn't it?"

      "For a day or two, yes. He could send out of town for hands," suggested Richard.

      "And they wouldn't come, if the Association said 'Stay where you are.' They are mostly in the ring. Some outsiders might come, though."

      "Then what?"

      "Why, then the boys would make it pretty hot for them in Stillwater. Don't you notice?"

      "I notice there is not much chance for me," said Richard, despondingly. "Isn't that so?"

      "Can't say. Better talk with Slocum. But I must get along; I have to be back sharp at one. I want to hear about your knocking around the worst kind. Can't we meet somewhere tonight,--at the tavern?"

      "The tavern? That didn't used to be a quiet place."

      "It isn't quiet now, but there's nowhere else to go of a night. It's a comfortable den, and there's always some capital fellows dropping in. A glass of lager with a mate is not a bad thing after a hard day's work."

      "Both are good things when they are of the right sort."

      "That's like saying I'm not the right sort, isn't it?"

      "I meant nothing of the kind. But I don't take to the tavern. Not that I'm squeamish; I have lived four years among sailors, and have been in rougher places than you ever dreamed of; but all the same I am afraid of the tavern. I've seen many a brave fellow wrecked on that reef."

      "You always was a bit stuck up," said Durgin candidly.

      "Not an inch. I never had much reason to be; and less now than ever, when I can scarcely afford to drink water, let alone beer. I will drop round to your mother's some evening--I hope she's well,--and tell you of my ups and downs. That will be pleasanter for all hands."

      "Oh, as you like."

      "Now for Mr. Slocum, though you have taken the wind out of me."

      The two separated, Durgin with a half smile on his lip, and Richard in a melancholy frame of mind. He passed from the grass-fringed street into the deserted СКАЧАТЬ