Speaking through a mouthful of bread and cheese, Jarge said again: ‘Smash the machines.’
Spade nodded. ‘That’s a last resort, though.’
‘Well, what else is there?’
‘You could start a union – a workers’ combination.’
Sal nodded. She had been thinking along that line, but vaguely, because she was not sure what a union was or did.
Jarge asked the question. ‘How would that help?’
‘First of all, it means the hands all act together, which makes them stronger than they are as individuals.’
Sal had not thought of this before, but it was obvious once it had been said. ‘Then what?’
‘See if the master will talk to you. Get a sense of how determined he is.’
‘And if he persists in his plan?’
‘What would Hornbeam do if one day none of his weavers showed up for work?’
Jarge said: ‘A strike! I like that idea.’
Spade said: ‘It’s happening a lot, in other parts of the country.’
Sal nodded slowly. ‘How do the strikers live, without wages?’
‘You have to raise money from other workers, to help them. Collect halfpennies and farthings in the market square. But it’s not easy. The weavers would have to tighten their belts.’
‘And Hornbeam would not be making any profits.’
‘He’d be losing money every day. I’ve heard he took a big loan from Thomson’s bank for this mill – he’s paying interest on that, remember.’
‘All the same,’ said Sal, ‘the weavers will get hungry before Hornbeam.’
Jarge said: ‘Thenwe smash the machines.’
‘It’s like a war,’ said Spade. ‘At the beginning, both sides expect to win. One of them is wrong.’
Sal said: ‘If we were going to do this, what would be the first step?’
‘Talk to the other weavers,’ Spade said. ‘Find out whether they’ve got the stomach for a fight. If you think you’ve got enough support, book a room and call a meeting. You know how to organize that, Sal.’
I suppose I do, Sal thought. Not that I’ve got much time to spare, after working fourteen hours a day and looking after two children. But she knew she could not refuse this challenge. For too long she had been outraged by the way she and people like her were treated in their own country. Now she had a chance to do something about it. She could not turn it down.
People who said things would never change were wrong. England had changed in the past, she remembered her father saying – from Catholic to Protestant, from absolute monarchy to parliamentary rule – and it would change again, if people like her insisted on it.
‘Yes,’ she said. ‘I know how to organize that.’
*
Spade was fond of Kate, his sister, but not enough to live with her. She shared the house with Becca, and Spade had his room in the workshop. They lived separate lives, but all the same their relationship was intimate. They knew one another’s secrets.
On Tuesday morning at eleven o’clock he went into the house by the back entrance. He stood for a moment by the door to the shop, listening. He could hear voices. Kate and Becca often rowed, but right now their talk seemed calm. He could not hear a third voice, so they did not have a customer. He tapped on the door and looked in.
‘All clear?’ he said.
‘All clear,’ Kate replied with a smile.
