Ragged Trousered Philanthropists by Robert Tressell (read novel full TXT) 📖

of the

wonderful things they had done and said; of jobs they had `chucked

up’, and masters they had `told off’: of pails of whitewash thrown

over offending employers, and of horrible assaults and batteries

committed upon the same. But strange to say, for some reason or

other, it seldom happened that a third party ever witnessed any of

these prodigies. It seemed as if a chivalrous desire to spare the

feelings of their victims had always prevented them from doing or

saying anything to them in the presence of witnesses.

 

When he had drunk a few pints, Crass was a very good hand at these

stories. Here is one that he told in the bar of the Cricketers on the

Saturday afternoon of the same week that Bill Bates and the Semidrunk

got the sack. The Cricketers was only a few minutes walk from the

shop and at pay-time a number of the men used to go in there to take a

drink before going home.

 

`Last Thursday night about five o’clock, ‘Unter comes inter the

paintshop an’ ses to me, “I wants a pail o’ wash made up tonight,

Crass,” ‘e ses, “ready for fust thing in the mornin’,” ‘e ses. “Oh,” I

ses, lookin’ ‘im straight in the bloody eye, “Oh, yer do, do yer?” -

just like that. “Yes,” ‘e ses. “Well, you can bloody well make it

yerself!” I ses, “‘cos I ain’t agoin’ to,” I ses - just like that.

“Wot the ‘ell do yer mean,” I ses, “by comin’ ‘ere at this time o’

night with a order like that?” I ses. You’d a larfed,’ continued

Crass, as he wiped his mouth with the back of his hand after taking

another drink out of his glass, and looking round to note the effect

of the story, `you’d a larfed if you’d bin there. ‘E was fairly

flabbergasted! And wen I said that to ‘im I see ‘is jaw drop! An’

then ‘e started apoligizing and said as ‘e ‘adn’t meant no offence,

but I told ‘im bloody straight not to come no more of it. “You bring

the horder at a reasonable time,” I ses - just like that - “and I’ll

attend to it,” I ses, “but not otherwise,” I ses.’

 

As he concluded this story, Crass drained his glass and gazed round

upon the audience, who were full of admiration. They looked at each

other and at Crass and nodded their heads approvingly. Yes,

undoubtedly, that was the proper way to deal with such bounders as

Nimrod; take up a strong attitude, an’ let ‘em see as you’ll stand no

nonsense!

 

`Yer don’t blame me, do yer?’ continued Crass. `Why should we put up

with a lot of old buck from the likes of ‘im! We’re not a lot of

bloody Chinamen, are we?’

 

So far from blaming him, they all assured him that they would have

acted in precisely the same way under similar circumstances.

 

`For my part, I’m a bloke like this,’ said a tall man with a very loud

voice - a chap who nearly fell down dead every time Rushton or Misery

looked at him. `I’m a bloke like this ‘ere: I never stands no cheek

from no gaffers! If a guv’nor ses two bloody words to me, I downs me

tools and I ses to ‘im, “Wot! Don’t I suit yer, guv’ner? Ain’t I

done enuff for yer? Werry good! Gimmie me bleedin’ a’pence.”’

 

`Quite right too,’ said everybody. That was the way to serve ‘em. If

only everyone would do the same as the tall man - who had just paid

for another round of drinks - things would be a lot more comfortable

than they was.

 

`Last summer I was workin’ for ole Buncer,’ said a little man with a

cutaway coat several sizes too large for him. `I was workin’ for ole

Buncer, over at Windley, an’ you all knows as ‘e don’t arf lower it.

Well, one day, when I knowed ‘e was on the drunk, I ‘ad to first coat

a room out - white; so thinks I to meself, “If I buck up I shall be

able to get this lot done by about four o’clock, an’ then I can clear

orf ‘ome. ‘Cos I reckoned as ‘e’d be about flattened out by that

time, an’ you know ‘e ain’t got no foreman. So I tears into it an’

gets this ‘ere room done about a quarter past four, an’ I’d just got

me things put away for the night w’en ‘oo should come fallin’ up the

bloody stairs but ole Buncer, drunk as a howl! An’ no sooner ‘e gits

inter the room than ‘e starts yappin’ an’ rampin’. “Is this ‘ere hall

you’ve done?” ‘e shouts out. “Wotcher bin up to hall day?” ‘e ses,

an’ ‘e keeps on shouting’ an’ swearin’ till at last I couldn’t stand

it no longer, ‘cos you can guess I wasn’t in a very good temper with

‘im comin’ along jist then w’en I thought I was goin’ to get orf a bit

early - so w’en ‘e kept on shoutin’ I never made no answer to ‘im, but

ups with me fist an’ I gives ‘im a slosh in the dial an’ stopped ‘is

clock! Then I chucked the pot o’ w’ite paint hover ‘im, an’ kicked

‘im down the bloody stairs.’

 

`Serve ‘im blooming well right, too,’ said Crass as he took a fresh

glass of beer from one of the others, who had just `stood’ another

round.

 

`What did the b—r say to that?’ inquired the tall man.

 

`Not a bloody word!’ replied the little man, `‘E picked ‘isself up,

and called a keb wot was passin’ an’ got inter it an’ went ‘ome; an’ I

never seen no more of ‘im until about ‘arf-past eleven the next day,

w’en I was second-coatin’ the room, an’ ‘e comes up with a noo suit

o’ clothes on, an’ arsts me if I’d like to come hover to the pub an’

‘ave a drink? So we goes hover, an’ ‘e calls for a w’iskey an’ soda

for isself an’ arsts me wot I’d ‘ave, so I ‘ad the same. An’ w’ile we

was gettin’ it down us, ‘e ses to me, “Ah, Garge,” ‘e ses. “You losed

your temper with me yesterday,”’ ‘e ses.’

 

`There you are, you see!’ said the tall man. `There’s an example for

yer! If you ‘adn’t served ‘im as you did you’d most likely ‘ave ‘ad

to put up with a lot more ole buck.’

 

They all agreed that the little man had done quite right: they all

said that they didn’ blame him in the least: they would all have done

the same: in fact, this was the way they all conducted themselves

whenever occasion demanded it. To hear them talk, one would imagine

that such affairs as the recent exploit of Bill Bates and the

Semidrunk were constantly taking place, instead of only occurring

about once in a blue moon.

 

Crass stood the final round of drinks, and as he evidently thought

that circumstance deserved to be signalized in some special manner, he

proposed the following toast, which was drunk with enthusiasm:

 

`To hell with the man,

May he never grow fat,

What carries two faces,

Under one ‘at.’

 

Rushton & Co. did a lot of work that summer. They did not have many

big jobs, but there were a lot of little ones, and the boy Bert was

kept busy running from one to the other. He spent most of his time

dragging a handcart with loads of paint, or planks and steps, and

seldom went out to work with the men, for when he was not taking

things out to the various places where the philanthropists were

working, he was in the paintshop at the yard, scraping out dirty

paint-pots or helping Crass to mix up colours. Although scarcely

anyone seemed to notice it, the boy presented a truly pitiable

spectacle. He was very pale and thin. Dragging the handcart did not

help him to put on flesh, for the weather was very hot and the work

made him sweat.

 

His home was right away on the other side of Windley. It took him

more than three-quarters of an hour to walk to the shop, and as he had

to be at work at six, that meant that he had to leave home at a few

minutes past five every morning, so that he always got up about half

past four.

 

He was wearing a man’s coat - or rather jacket - which gave the upper

part of his body a bulky appearance. The trousers were part of a suit

of his own, and were somewhat narrowly cut, as is the rule with boys’

cheap ready-made trousers. These thin legs appearing under the big

jacket gave him a rather grotesque appearance, which was heightened by

the fact that all his clothes, cap, coat, waistcoat, trousers and

boots, were smothered with paint and distemper of various colours, and

there were generally a few streaks of paint of some sort or other upon

his face, and of course his hands - especially round the fingernails -

were grimed with it. But the worst of all were the dreadful hobnailed

boots: the leather of the uppers of these was an eighth of an inch

thick, and very stiff. Across the fore part of the boot this hard

leather had warped into ridges and valleys, which chafed his feet, and

made them bleed. The soles were five-eighths of an inch thick,

covered with hobnails, and were as hard and inflexible and almost as

heavy as iron. These boots hurt his feet dreadfully and made him feel

very tired and miserable, for he had such a lot of walking to do. He

used to be jolly glad when dinner-time came, for then he used to get

out of sight in some quiet spot and lie down for the whole hour. His

favourite dining-place was up in the loft over the carpenter’s shop,

where they stored the mouldings and architraves. No one ever came

there at that hour, and after he had eaten his dinner he used to lie

down and think and rest.

 

He nearly always had an hour for dinner, but he did not always have it

at the same time: sometimes he had it at twelve o’clock and sometimes

not till two. It all depended upon what stuff had to be taken to the

job.

 

Often it happened that some men at a distant job required some

material to use immediately after dinner, and perhaps Crass was not

able to get it ready till twelve o’clock, so that it was not possible

to take it before dinner-time, and if Bert left it till after dinner

the men would be wasting their time waiting for it: so in such cases

he took it there first and had his dinner when he came back.

 

Sometimes he got back about half past twelve, and it was necessary for

him to take out another lot of material at one o’clock.

 

In such a case he `charged’ half an hour overtime on his time sheet -

he used to get twopence an hour for overtime.

 

Sometimes Crass sent him with a handcart to one job to get a pair of

steps or tressels, or a plank, or some material or other, and take

them to another job, and on these occasions it was often very late

before he was able to take his meals. Instead of getting his

breakfast at eight, it was often nearly nine before he got back to the

shop, and frequently he had to go without dinner until half past one

or two.

 

Sometimes he could scarcely manage to carry the pots