Bone Street/Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
ON THE SCRAP HEAP
JACK carefully pondered over the position for the next few days, and during the evenings discussed with Mr. Grimshaw the prospects of getting a job, and the latter was quite definitely of the opinion that trade in the near future was more likely to decline than increase. “You see, that makes the position all the worse for you. In these hard times it’s mighty difficult to get a job once a body’s out of work, and I don’t see any prospects of things getting better; then again, lad, tha might as well face the position, tha’ll have great difficulty in getting a job with that gammy arm of thine. T’insurance company wants a higher premium for men wi’ summat up wi’ them, an’ t’bosses don’t like paying it, and what’s more, won’t pay it; you see, lad, men are cheap, I’m not trying to dishearten thi, but I’m saying what I know to be true, and if I were thee, I’d look for something away from the mill.”
The Sunday following, Jack also took council with Marthalice on the matter. That good lady said, “Ay, bairn, it’s just like ‘em, they tak’ all the steel out of a man, then throw t’old iron on t’scrap heap. I don’t know what tha’ll do, but stop for thi tea, t’lassies will be in soon, and perhaps they’ll know of summat.” But they didn’t, they had the same tale as Mr. Grimshaw. Short time, orders were not coming in, and employees were being dismissed for the most trivial things. “In fact, Jack,” said Ruth, “we’re walking about biting our tongue to keep a job ourselves.”
For the whole of the following week Jack hoped against hope that something would happen which would mean the retention of his services at Bramfitt’s, but no, on Friday, when his wages were paid to him, he found enclosed an envelope containing a testimonial stating that he had worked there nearly ten years, and had always given satisfaction, but was being discharged in consequence of a disability.
Ten years’ service, thought Jack bitterly, and now discharged a cripple for the remainder of his life. Aye, well, dividends were sacred, and it was of no consequence if he went under. The mill, the company, and the dividends, would still be there as monuments to the ingenuity (and callousness) of man.
Jack counted his savings carefully. He had about ten pounds, and by practising economy could live nearly twenty weeks; surely he could obtain work in that time, if not in Beckton, perhaps in some other town. Yes, why not go elsewhere? thought Jack, for from all he could learn, the chances of obtaining work in Beckton until trade improved were very remote. Why not another town in which to try his luck? He had no ties, and nobody to regret his departure except Marthalice.
He visited his old friend, who did everything possible to dissuade him from going.
“Tha’s no ’casion to go, lad. I’ll nivver see thee short, tha’rt like one of mi own, and I’ll feel sick not knowing where you are.”
But Jack could see no other way out.
“No,” he said. “So far as I can see, there’s no chance whatever of getting a job here till trade improves. I have a few pounds saved, I can take to the road till I get a job. I’m not particular what I do or where I do it, if only I can get a start somewhere,” and so he definitely made his mind up.
On the following Tuesday, he deposited his trunk, containing his best clothes and a few remaining belongings, with the good soul, and bid her good-bye without fears for the future.
“Think on,” said Marthalice tearfully, “there’s always a home for thi here when tha’s nowhere else.”
Jack assured her he would remember that, and manfully swallowing the lump in his throat, left her, looking back to wave a final good-bye, as she stood wiping her eyes with her apron.
And so he commenced his journey. Where to, he knew not.
At all events he was warmly clad: a good overcoat, a pair of stout boots, a warm woollen muffler round his neck, and what was more important, a few pounds in a belt next to his body. He carried a brown-paper parcel containing a clean shirt, soap and towel, for he had learned the comfort of cleanliness, and meant to continue keeping his body clean whatever happened.
It was after ten o’clock when he passed the Town Hall, and taking the road to the left soon found himself on the main road to Wakefield. It was not his intention to stay there, but he was obliged to traverse that road to proceed to the eastern counties, as he instinctively turned to the east where his parents had been reared. For Jack had no particular love for the grimy towns, he had always preferred the country where one could breathe, and after climbing the hill leading out of the town, took the road, leading directly to Wakefield. The road was more or less level, and walking at a good pace he went steadily on. Arriving at Wakefield shortly after one o’clock, he decided to eat, after which he enquired the road to Doncaster and Retford, having decided to make Gainsborough his goal, if for no other reason than the fact that his parents were married there.
He was told to keep to the North Road, which would bring him directly to Doncaster, and then Retford. So making a steady four miles an hour he proceeded on the journey. Somewhere about 6 p.m. he had arrived at a village within a few miles of Doncaster. And there he decided to stay the night, arguing to himself that a village would be cheaper than a town, and thinking of his few pounds, certainly wiser, so acting on the assumption that only evildoers have occasion to fear the police, walked up to the village policeman, and politely enquired, could he tell him of any respectable place where he could put up for the night? The policeman eyed him for a minute, then enquired:
“Has ta any brass?”
“Yes,” replied Jack, “but I thought I’d stop here instead of the town, it might be cheaper.”
The policeman smiled.
“I think tha’s summat else besides brass, and that’s sense. Well, there’s Missus Green has a spare bed,” and with that directed him to a cottage occupied by an old lady, who let a bedroom whenever she could.
Next morning Jack was early on his way, and continuing his journey found after passing through Doncaster, that by leaving the great North Road at Bawtry, he could save a few miles, and shortly after 4 p.m. found himself in the old country town of Gainsborough. He looked round with interest. There was a large market-square where the village folk took their produce to sell—eggs, butter, fowls, etc.—and being market-day the town was full. Almost everyone had a basket, for the villagers who came to sell mostly stopped to purchase, with the money realised on their sales.
And so Jack wandered about. Where was St. Peter’s Church?—for that was where his parents were married, and he naturally felt a desire to find the place. He easily found it, just an old country church with a square tower at one end, but it was of interest, for it was here that the Romance of Jack’s parents’ life had commenced. Wandering round again, he came to a short, narrow street, tucked away between the market-place and the railway station. This was Ravine Street, where his mother lived previous to being married. He wondered if the people living there remembered his mother. It was over twenty years since she had left to be married; anyway, it was worth trying, so he knocked at the door. A young woman answered the knock with a wee child in her arms. Jack did not know how to commence his enquiry, but he managed to ask:
“Can you tell me who lives here, please?”
The woman looked at him with wonder, and the baby thrust out an arm, which Jack took caressingly, and continuing said:
“My mother lived here many years ago, and I am trying to find someone that knew her.”
The woman did not really understand what he was driving at. She could see from his pale face that he was not a country lad, and although he looked a decent enough chap, his questions appeared very strange.
Suddenly Jack, too, realised how strange his questions must appear to a stranger, so he decided to tell her part of the story.
“I’ve walked here from Beckton, and am trying to find if there is anyone who remembers my mother. She used to live here, in fact she was married from this house.”
“How long ago?” came the question.
“More than twenty years ago,” Jack said, smiling.
“Oh, then my mother should remember her, for she has lived here all her life; would you like to see her?” asked the woman.
“I would,” said Jack, and he was thereupon escorted into the kitchen where an old lady sat by the fireside.
The young woman related Jack’s story, and the old lady putting on her spectacles looked at him closely.
“And so Mary Newcome was your mother.”
“Yes,” answered Jack, “do you remember her?”
“Remember her, indeed I do. I remember your father coming here seeking lodgings until such time as they could be married, and I liked your mother’s face, so I offered her a home with me. I believed she had quarrelled with her father or something.”
“Yes,” said Jack, “and they never made the quarrel up. I would like to find my grandfather. Could you tell me what part she came from?”
“No,” was the reply, “they didn’t tell me, and I’m afraid you’ll have a job to find your mother’s people, there’s scores of Newcomes about this part of the country. I know they had sufficient money to keep them for a while. Your father was a small, dark man, wasn’t he?”
“Yes,” said Jack.
“Well, he stayed with my brother Bill, while your mother stayed with me, but our Bill’s dead now, and his wife, too, so you cannot learn anything from them. I remember how she cried when they came. They left the town shortly after they were married, and I never heard of them again.”
Jack thanked her courteously for the information, and rose to take his departure.
“Nay,” said the old lady, “stop and have a cup of tea, I reckon you’ve nowhere to go.”
“No,” replied Jack, and he told her his reasons for leaving Beckton.
She listened carefully, nodding her head at intervals.
“And so you’re on the road; where are you making for?” she asked.
“Anywhere where I can get work,” replied Jack, “but I thought I’d call at Gainsborough to see whether I could get any information, and to-morrow I thought of looking round for a job.”
The old lady nodded approval, and said :
“Yes, but I’m afraid you would find it difficult to obtain work here, it is hard for men brought up in the country ; if I were you I’d make my way to Hull or some place like that, there’s no opportunity in the country for men from the towns.”
Jack realised the wisdom of this deduction, and, determined to act on this advice, replied :
“Thank you very much, I’ll find somewhere to sleep to-night and push farther on to-morrow morning.”
But the good soul wouldn’t have that.
“There’s only my daughter and her husband live here besides myself, I can make you comfortable on the couch.”
Jack gladly agreed to stay, and shortly afterwards the daughter’s husband came in from work. He was employed as a blacksmith, and upon Jack’s presence being explained to him, discussed the probabilities of work being obtained in the country. He agreed with the course suggested by the old lady.
“If I were you, I’d strike across for New Holland. You might get a job on the way to Hull,” he continued dubiously, “but I doubt it ; still, I feel sure that once you get there, some sort of a job will be going. There is the docks, and the warehouses, and at a pinch the sea.”
Jack slept comfortably on the sofa, and was ready to continue his journey by eight o’clock next morning. He bade the daughter and her husband good-bye, and taking the old lady’s hand thanked her for the kindness extended to him.
“It’s nothing,” was the reply, “you’ve interested me, and I hope you’ll make good, you may find your mother’s folk, but there’s plenty of Newcomes round these parts, and I wouldn’t build on it too much.”
So with their good wishes for company, Jack took his departure.
A good night’s rest, followed with a good breakfast, all assisted to make Jack optimistic, and, striking the road for New Holland, wondered by what means he could find his mother’s people. He passed through several villages before noon, and at each village enquired for a farmer named Newcome. He found two bearing the name, but each were too young to be his grandfather, and reluctantly he realised that without a photograph, or any other clue, his chances of finding him were very remote, so without any more to do he proceeded to Hull. Reaching New Holland, he took the ferry, arriving at Hull in the evening, dusty, tired, and for the first time since leaving Beckton thoroughly despondent; but despondency was no use, he required a place to sleep for the night, and hadn’t the faintest idea where to look.
And so Jack proceeded to walk round again looking for lodgings. Eventually he saw a card in the window of a house in the Hessle Road district, and as the place looked clean and respectable decided to knock at the door.
The woman of the house was the middle-aged wife of a dock labourer, who let a bedroom to supplement the meagre earnings of the husband. She looked clean, and after inspecting the bedroom, Jack agreed to pay for the bed, and board himself, thinking his slender capital would last longer this way, for he realised that it might be some time before he secured a situation. Having made all the arrangements, he enquired for a shop to make his few purchases, but his landlady volunteered to make the purchases for him. Jack thanked her warmly, for though he had been prepared to do it himself he knew a woman could usually make money go the furthest. He decided to live lean, and his cupboard consisted of a loaf, half a pound of butter, four ounces of tea, half a pound of sugar, and a tin of condensed milk.
Anyway, his appetite was good, and after eating heartily of bread and butter, he was invited to make himself comfortable round the fire, and pulling a newspaper out of his pocket, which he had bought when entering the town, he searched carefully the advertisement columns, marking several down for visitation the next day.
A storeman wanted, apply so and so. A warehouseman. A cellarman. A boots at an hotel. “Surely,” he argued with himself, “I can get something out of this lot.”
The landlady informed Jack that her husband was employed unloading a yeast cargo, and would not reach home till midnight, so being tired he decided to go to bed, asking the landlady not to be surprised if she heard him moving about early, as he desired to be out in good time to get the first chance of a job. And still hopeful of what the morrow would bring, he retired to rest.