e fort? [He
points at ROBERTS] That man there! "No," 'e said, "fight the
robbers," 'e said, "squeeze the breath out o' them!" But it's not the
breath out o' them that's being squeezed; it's the breath out of us
and ours, and that's the book of truth. I'm no orator, mates, it's
the flesh and blood in me that's speakin', it's the heart o' me.
[With a menacing, yet half-ashamed movement towards ROBERTS.] He'll
speak to you again, mark my words, but don't ye listen. [The crowd
groans.] It's hell fire that's on that man's tongue. [ROBERTS is
seen laughing.] Sim 'Arness is right. What are we without the
Union--handful o' parched leaves--a puff o' smoke. I'm no orator,
but I say: Chuck it up! Chuck it up! Sooner than go on starving the
women and the children.

[The murmurs of acquiescence almost drown the murmurs of
dissent.]

EVANS. What's turned you to blacklegging?

ROUS. [With a furious look.] Sim 'Arness knows what he's talking
about. Give us power to come to terms with London; I'm no orator,
but I say--have done wi' this black misery!

[He gives his muter a twist, jerks his head back, and jumps off
the platform. The crowd applauds and surges forward. Amid
cries of "That's enough!" "Up Union!" "Up Harness!" ROBERTS
quietly ascends the platform. There is a moment of silence.]

BLACKSMITH. We don't want to hear you. Shut it!

HENRY Rous. Get down!

[Amid such cries they surge towards the platform.]

EVANS. [Fiercely.] Let 'im speak! Roberts! Roberts!

BULGIN. [Muttering.] He'd better look out that I don't crack his
skull.

[ROBERTS faces the crowd, probing them with his eyes till they
gradually become silent. He begins speaking. One of the
bargemen rises and stands.]

ROBERTS. You don't want to hear me, then? You'll listen to Rous and
to that old man, but not to me. You'll listen to Sim Harness of the
Union that's treated you so fair; maybe you'll listen to those men
from London? Ah! You groan! What for? You love their feet on your
necks, don't you? [Then as BULGIN elbows his way towards the
platform, with calm bathos.] You'd like to break my jaw, John
Bulgin. Let me speak, then do your smashing, if it gives you
pleasure. [BULGIN Stands motionless and sullen.] Am I a liar, a
coward, a traitor? If only I were, ye'd listen to me, I'm sure.
[The murmurings cease, and there is now dead silence.] Is there a
man of you