The Honorable Peter Stirling and What People Thought of Him Part 89

"It's rather rough on you, Stirling," spoke up a man, "to have it come while you are a nominee."

Peter smiled, and pa.s.sed into the room beyond. "Good-morning, General Canfield," he said. "I have taken the necessary steps to embody my regiment. Are there any further orders?"

"If we need you, we shall put you at the Central Station," the officer replied; "so, if you do not know the lay of the land, you had better familiarize yourself at once."

"General Canfield," said Peter, "my regiment has probably more sympathizers with the strikers than has any other in the city. It could not be put in a worse place."

"Are you objecting to orders?" said the man, in a sharp decisive voice.

"No," replied Peter. "I am stating a fact, in hopes that it may prevent trouble."

The man and Peter looked each other in the eye.

"You have your orders," said the man, but he didn't look pleased or proud.

Peter turned and left the room, looking very grave. He look his cab and went to his quarters. He ate a hurried breakfast, and then went down into the streets. They seemed peaceably active as he walked through them. A small boy was calling an extra, but it was in reference to the arrival of a much-expected racing-yacht. There was nothing to show that a great business depression rested with crus.h.i.+ng weight on the city, and especially on the poor; that anarchy was lifting its head, and from hungering for bread was coming to hunger for blood and blaze; that capital and labor were preparing to lock arms in a struggle which perhaps meant death and destruction.

The armory door was opened only wide enough to let a man squeeze through, and was guarded by a keeper. Peter pa.s.sed in, however, without question, and heard a hum of voices which showed that if anarchy was gathering, so too was order. Peter called his officers together, and gave a few orders. Then he turned and whispered for a moment with Dennis.

"They don't put us there, sir!" exclaimed Dennis.

"Yes."

"Are they mad?"

"They've given us the worst job, not merely as a job, but especially for the regiment. Perhaps they won't mind if things do go wrong."

"Yez mean?"

"What will people say of me on November fourth, if my regiment flunks on September thirtieth?"

"Arrah musha dillah!" cried Dennis. "An' is that it?"

"I'm afraid so. Will the men stand by me?"

"Oi'll make them. Yez see," shouted Dennis, "Oi'll tell the b'ys they are tryin' to put yez in a hole, an' they'll stan' by yez, no matter what yez are told to do."

As quickly as possible Peter put on his fatigue uniform. When he came out, it was to find that the rank and file had done the same, and were now standing in groups about the floor. A moment later they were lined up.

Peter stepped forward and said in a clear, ringing voice: "Before the roll is called I wish to say a word. We may receive orders any moment to take possession of the buildings and switches at the Central Station, to protect the property and operators of that road. This will be hard to some of you, who believe the strikers are right. But we have nothing to do with that. We have taken our oath to preserve order and law, and we are interested in having it done, far more than is the capitalist, for he can buy protection, whether laws are enforced or not, while the laboring man cannot. But if any man here is not prepared to support the State in its duty to protect the life and property of all, by an enforcement of the laws, I wish to know it now."

Peter stood a moment waiting, and then said, "Thank you, men."

The roll-call was made, and Peter sent off a line to headquarters, stating that his regiment, with only eighteen reported "missing" was mustered and ready for further orders. Then the regiment broke ranks, and waited.

Just as two o'clock struck a despatch was handed Peter. A moment later came the rap of the drum, and the men rose from the floor and fell in. A few sharp, quick words were pa.s.sed from mouth to mouth. Guns rose to the shoulders with a click and a movement almost mechanical. The regiment swung from a long straight line into companies, the door rolled open, and without a sound, except the monotonous pound of the regular tread, the regiment pa.s.sed into the street. At the corner they turned sharply, and marched up a side street, so narrow that the ranks had to break their lines to get within the curbs. So without sound of drum or music they pa.s.sed through street after street. A regiment is thrilling when it parades to music: it is more so when it marches in silence.

Presently it pa.s.sed into a long tunnel, where the footfall echoed in a startling way. But as it neared the other end, a more startling sound could be heard. It was a low murmur, as of many voices, and of voices that were not pleasant. Peter's wisdom in availing himself of the protection and secrecy of the tunnel as an approach became obvious.

A moment later, as the regiment debouched from the tunnel's mouth, the scene broke upon them. A vast crowd filled Fourth Avenue and Forty-second Street. Filled even the cut of the entrance to the tunnel.

An angry crowd, judging from the sounds.

A sharp order pa.s.sed down the ranks, and the many broad lines melted into a long-thin one again, even as the regiment went forward. It was greeted with yells, and bottles and bricks were hurled from above it, but the appearance of the regiment had taken the men too much by surprise for them to do more. The head entered the mob, and seemed to disappear. More and more of the regiment was swallowed up. Finally, except to those who could trace the bright glint of the rifle-barrels, it seemed to have been submerged. Then even the rifles disappeared. The regiment had pa.s.sed through the crowd, and was within the station. Peter breathed a sigh of relief. To march up Fifth Avenue, with empty guns, in a parade, between ten thousand admiring spectators is one thing. To march between ten thousand angry strikers and their sympathizers, with ball cartridges in the rifles, is quite another. It is all the difference between smoking a cigar after dinner, and smoking one in a powder magazine.

The regiment's task had only just begun, however. Peter had orders to clear the streets about the station. After a consultation with the police captain, the companies were told off, and filing out of the various doors, they began work. Peter had planned his debouchments so as to split the mob into sections, knowing that each fragment pushed back rendered the remainder less formidable. First a sally was made from the terminal station, and after two lines of troops had been thrown across Forty-second Street, the second was ordered to advance. Thus a great tongue of the mob, which stretched towards Third Avenue, was pressed back, almost to that street, and held there, without a quarter of the mob knowing that anything was being done. Then a similar operation was repeated on Forty-third Street and Forty-fourth Street, and possession was taken of Madison Avenue. Another wedge was driven into the mob and a section pushed along Forty-second, nearly to Fifth Avenue. Then what was left of the mob was pushed back from the front of the building down Park Avenue. Again Peter breathed more freely.

"I think the worst is done," he told his officers. "Fortunately the crowd did not expect us, and was not prepared to resist. If you can once split a mob, so that it has no centre, and can't get together again, except by going round the block, you've taken the heart out of it"

As he said this a soldier came up, and saluting, said: "Captain Moriarty orders me to inform you that a committee of the strikers ask to see you, Colonel."

Peter followed the messenger. He found a couple of sentries marking a line. On one side of this line sat or reclined Company D. and eight policemen. On the other stood a group of a dozen men, and back of them, the crowd.

Peter pa.s.sed the sentry line, and went up to the group. Three were the committee. The rest were the ubiquitous reporters. From the newspaper report of one of the latter We quote the rest:

"You wish to see me?" asked Colonel Stirling.

"Yes, Colonel," said Chief Potter. "We are here to remonstrate with you."

"We've done nothing yet," said Doggett, "and till we had, the troops oughtn't to have been called in."

"And now people say that the scabs are to be given a regimental escort to the depot, and will go to work at eight."

"We've been quiet till now," growled a man in the crowd surlily, "but we won't stand the militia protecting the scabs and rats."

"Are you going to fight for the capitalist?" ask Kurfeldt, when Colonel Stirling stood silent.

"I am fighting no man's battle, Kurfeldt," replied Colonel Stirling. "I am obeying orders."

The committee began to look anxious.

"You're no friend of the poor man, and you needn't pose any more,"

shouted one of the crowd.

"Shut your mouth," said Kurfeldt to the crowd. "Colonel Stirling,"

he continued, "we know you're our friend. But you can't stay so if you fight labor. Take your choice. Be the rich man's servant, or our friend."

"I know neither rich man nor poor man in this," Colonel Stirling said. "I know only the law."

"You'll let the scabs go on?"

"I know no such cla.s.s. If I find any man doing what the law allows him to do, I shall not interfere. But I shall preserve order."

"Will you order your men to fire on us?"

"If you break the laws."

"Do it at your peril," cried Potter angrily. "For every shot your regiment fires, you'll lose a thousand votes on election day."