you what we will do with them.

EVANS. Ah! will, it's always will! Ye'd have our mates desert us.
[Hubbub.]

BULGIN. [Shouting.] Hold your row!

[EVANS looks round angrily.]

HARNESS. [Lifting his voice.] Those who know their right hands from
their lefts know that the Unions are neither thieves nor traitors.
I 've said my say. Figure it out, my lads; when you want me you know
where I shall be.

[He jumps down, the crowd gives way, he passes through them, and
goes away. A BARGEMAN looks after him jerking his pipe with a
derisive gesture. The men close up in groups, and many looks
are cast at ROBERTS, who stands alone against the wall.]

EVANS. He wants ye to turn blacklegs, that's what he wants. He
wants ye to go back on us. Sooner than turn blackleg--I 'd starve, I
would.

BULGIN. Who's talkin' o' blacklegs--mind what you're saying, will
you?

BLACKSMITH. [A youth with yellow hair and huge arms.] What about
the women?

EVANS. They can stand what we can stand, I suppose, can't they?

BLACKSMITH. Ye've no wife?

EVANS. An' don't want one!

THOMAS. [Raising his voice.] Aye! Give us the power to come to
terms with London, lads.

DAVIES. [A dark, slow-fly, gloomy man.] Go up the platform, if you
got anything to say, go up an' say it.

[There are cries of "Thomas!" He is pushed towards the
platform; he ascends it with difficulty, and bares his head,
waiting for silence. A hush.]

RED-HAIRED YOUTH. [suddenly.] Coot old Thomas!

[A hoarse laugh; the bargemen exchange remarks; a hush again,
and THOMAS begins speaking.]

THOMAS. We are all in the tepth together, and it iss Nature that has
put us there.

HENRY ROUS. It's London put us there!

EVANS. It's the Union.

THOMAS. It iss not Lonton; nor it iss not the Union--it iss Nature.
It iss no disgrace whateffer to a potty to give in to Nature. For
this Nature iss a fery pig thing; it is pigger than what a man is.
There iss more years to my hett than to the hett of any one here.
It is fery pat, look you, this Going against Nature. It is pat to
make other potties suffer, when there is nothing to pe cot py it.

[A laugh. THOMAS angrily goes on.]

What are ye laughing at? It is pat, I say! We are fighting for a
principle; there is no potty that shall say I am not a peliever in
principle. Putt when Nature says "No further," then it is no coot
snapping your finger