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 here that has less to gain by striking? Is there a man of
you that had more to lose? Is there a man of you that has given up
eight hundred pounds since this trouble here began? Come now, is
there? How much has Thomas given up--ten pounds or five, or what?
You listened to him, and what had he to say? "None can pretend," he
said, "that I'm not a believer in principle--[with biting irony]--but
when Nature says: 'No further, 't es going agenst Nature.'" I tell
you if a man cannot say to Nature: "Budge me from this if ye can!"--
[with a sort of exaltation]his principles are but his belly. "Oh,
but," Thomas says, "a man can be pure and honest, just and merciful,
and take off his hat to Nature!" I tell you Nature's neither pure
nor honest, just nor merciful. You chaps that live over the hill,
an' go home dead beat in the dark on a snowy night--don't ye fight
your way every inch of it? Do ye go lyin' down an' trustin' to the
tender mercies of this merciful Nature? Try it and you'll soon know
with what ye've g