He wants ye to turn blacklegs, that's what he wants. He
wants ye to go back on us. Sooner than turn blackleg--I 'd starve, I
would.
BULGIN. Who's talkin' o' blacklegs--mind what you're saying, will
you?
BLACKSMITH. [A youth with yellow hair and huge arms.] What about
the women?
EVANS. They can stand what we can stand, I suppose, can't they?
BLACKSMITH. Ye've no wife?
EVANS. An' don't want one!
THOMAS. [Raising his voice.] Aye! Give us the power to come to
terms with London, lads.
DAVIES. [A dark, slow-fly, gloomy man.] Go up the platform, if you
got anything to say, go up an' say it.
[There are cries of "Thomas!" He is pushed towards the
platform; he ascends it with difficulty, and bares his head,
waiting for silence. A hush.]
RED-HAIRED YOUTH. [suddenly.] Coot old Thomas!
[A hoarse laugh; the bargemen exchange remarks; a hush again,
and THOMAS begins speaking.]
THOMAS. We are all in the tepth together, and it iss Nature that has
put us there.
HENRY ROUS. It's London put us there!
EVANS. It's the Union.
THOMAS. It iss not Lonton; nor it iss not the Union--it iss Nature.
It iss no disgrace whateffer to a potty to give in to Nature.
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