Bone Street/Chapter 12
CHAPTER TWELVE
LOOKING FOR WORK
Jack slept soundly through the night and awakened to find day was breaking. Springing out of bed he reached for his watch to find it was a few minutes to six, so he quietly donned his clothes, and making his way to the scullery, had a wash, ate a meagre breakfast of bread and butter, and locking the door, went out, slipping the key under the door, as he had been instructed to.
The early morning air was crisp and refreshing, and Jack stepped out with head erect.
He decided first of all to look round the huge warehouses adjacent to the docks, then at about nine o’clock to visit some of the places where he had noted the advertisements. He made his way to the nearest of the large docks where he found work in full swing. Men were busily engaged wheeling sacks of grain from the ship-holds across a gangway, and tipping them up against a warehouse door, where another set of men were taking them into the warehouse. Jack addressed a man with a notebook in hand, who was checking the sacks, asking was there any chance of a job. He was advised to see the foreman, and after much seeking succeeded in finding that very important individual—I say important because he had supreme control over the lives of more than a hundred men.
He could sack whom he pleased, when he pleased. He was the boss and didn’t forget to let the men know it.
A big burly man, he looked strong enough to fell an ox.
“What do you want?” he asked gruffly, sighting Jack.
“I’m looking for work,” answered Jack, “is there any chance of a start?”
The boss looked him over critically.
“Are you strong?” he questioned.
“Well,” was the reply, “I was until I met with an accident to my arm, but I’ll do my best.”
“I want no blasted cripples here,” was the reply. “Get out, this isn’t a hospital,” and turning on his heel, went to one of his gangs.
Jack felt the hot blood rush to his head. A cripple. The brutal words cut him like a lash. He was not accustomed to being spoken to in that manner, surely this man was an exception. He swallowed the insult as best he could and made his way out.
Several more places were visited without success. By eight-thirty he was feeling hungry, and finding a cheap eating-house, he had some breakfast, knowing the impossibility of tramping the town looking for work on an empty stomach.
He answered the advertisements noted the night before, but with no result, as the posts had been filled within half an hour of the advertisement being inserted, so he resolved to be earlier the next day, but he stuck to his task all morning, and by noon was fairly well tired out. However, some food revived him, and gallantly he resumed his search. He next visited the public libraries, and after perusing the many newspapers, again set forth applying for more situations, but without results.
It was a tired and weary Jack that returned to his lodgings about 5 p.m., but he was determined to win through. He felt keenly the insult of the morning. Surely, he thought, I must live, and to do that I must work. I have a right to live. He didn’t know. The only right a man had those days, when unemployed, was to starve, or offer himself for less wages to let another man starve.
Arriving at his lodgings, he found the man of the house at home. Ned Hampton was a powerfully built man of about fifty, who by the tattoo marks on his arms had obviously been a sailor.
“This is our new lodger, Ned,” said Mrs. Hampton.
Her husband cordially extended his hand, and enveloping Jack’s he gave it a hearty grip. Poor Jack barely suppressed a gasp, as the huge calloused hand gripped him; like iron the hooves pressed into his soft hand bringing the tears to his eyes. Mrs. Hampton noticing this, said:
“You’ve done it again.”
“Done what?” said her husband innocently.
Stood up to his full height, he was a splendid figure of a man, at least six feet tall, and built in proportion, his sleeves rolled up, revealing huge hairy arms, his shirt neck open showing the powerful neck sinews, he was indeed a fine man.
Mrs. Hampton looked at Jack smilingly, saying:
“He always forgets he’s so strong, and sometimes he hurts.”
“Oh, that’s all right,” said Jack, “it’s a good thing it wasn’t the other hand.”
“Why?” asked the man. “Why the other?”
Jack, remembering the incident of the morning, replied bitterly:
“Because I’m a cripple.”
The man and woman were instantly all sympathy, and noticing their concern he related his experience of that morning.
“I know that chap,” said Ned. “He’ll get it in the neck one of these days. Now let’s have some tea,” he said to his wife, and over tea Jack related his fruitless search for work that day. “Of course,” he added, “I don’t expect to get a job immediately, but I can see that they aren’t exactly running after men offering them work.”
“That they aren’t,” said the other man, “I’ve only worked two days since Monday, and it’s Friday now. Not because I didn’t want to work, but because I couldn’t get it. I can do any job on the docks, but there’s more men than work, that’s the trouble. I’d go back to sea, but the old lady here won’t let me.”
“Indeed I won’t,” said Mrs. Hampton. “You’re old enough to stop at home now. I’d rather have you at home with little wage, than away at sea, and not knowing whether you’ll ever come home alive again.”
The big chap blushed, as his wife told what a good husband he was, not even drinking beer, and continued:
“It’s Ned I want, not his money, and as long as we can manage to live, the rest doesn’t matter.”
They discussed long Jack’s chances of getting work, and summing up, Ned said :
“You can’t get a job as docker with that arm, that’s certain, you might hold on at the winch, but that’s a boy’s job with boy’s pay. You could check, but it needs influence to get a checking job. You might go to sea as a steward, only there’s plenty of experienced men waiting for those jobs, you might get a job on a trawler as cook, but I’d advise you to do anything before taking that job. No, it seems to me your only chance is to try the shops for a light porter’s job, or perhaps an hotel porter. You might also have a try at the flour mill, but it takes an able-bodied man all his time to keep his job nowadays, without bribing.”
“Bribing,” asked Jack, “what do you mean ?”
“I mean there’s more bribing amongst the gangers and foremen than there’s any right to be,” was the reply. “I can take you to a pub to-night where there will be twenty pints of beer, and as many ounces of bacca, left for one man, and if you didn’t buy him beer and bacca you’ve no earthly chance of a job.”
“But surely one man couldn’t drink and smoke all that amount in one night.”
“No,” was the reply, “but he can take it out in money and allow the landlord his share. Of course they are not all alike, there’s some decent chaps, but if you saw the struggling, aye, and even fighting, there is sometimes to get in at unloading a ship, you would be surprised. Hungry men will either fight or bribe to get a job. Perhaps I’m lucky because I’m big and strong, but God help the weak man who’s unfortunate enough to be a dock labourer.”
And so they discussed the position, the elder man asking after a time :
“What are you doing to-night ?”
“Well,” replied Jack, “I was thinking of going to the Free Library for a book, and staying in to read, that is if you have no objection.”
“None whatever,” was the reply, “I only wish I could join you.”
“Why not ?” asked Jack.
“Why not ? Because I’m like thousands more my age, I can’t read ; the missus can read a bit, but only very slow.”
Jack immediately thought of his father, and the pleasure reading gave to him, so he said :
“I’ll tell you what, show me the way to the library, and I’ll get a book and read aloud for an hour or two. What do you say ?”
Husband and wife looked at each other, a smile on both their faces.
“There’s nothing would suit me better,” said the man, “but we don’t want to trouble you.”
“Oh, that’s nothing,” replied Jack. “Providing you enjoy listening, I’ll be quite happy reading to you.”
And without any further discussion the two men went out.
There was a Free Library not ten minutes’ walk away, and Jack had soon filled up an application form, selecting David Copperfield for their evening’s entertainment.
Upon their arrival home, Mrs. Hampton pushed the table back to the wall, to enable all three of them to sit round the fire, and so the reading commenced. Several times while reading Jack looked up to find two pair of eyes glued to his face, and giving him their absolute attention, the rapt expression on Ned Hampton’s face telling its own story.
After a steady hour’s reading, Jack laid the book down, and said :
“You good folks remind me of my father.”
“How’s that?” asked Mrs. Hampton; and Jack related his youthful experience, adding :
“While I sat here reading to you I was constantly reminded of my dad. He loved the evenings when I stopped at home to read to him.”
“Aye,” said Ned, “folk that can read cannot understand people that never had the opportunity to learn. I never had the chance to learn, there were no free schools when I was a kid, and as I was the eldest of a family of nine, my parents were forced to send me out to earn money before I was eight year old. The wife here was the same, but fortunately her mother could read and taught her bits at home. Aye, some of them reformers don’t know, but many a man’s driven to the pub, because he knows no other way of passing time.”
After this little interlude, Jack returned to his reading, continuing till nine o’clock when Mrs. Hampton insisted on him ceasing.
“It’s very nice for us,” she said, “but I’m sure your poor eyes must be tired.”
Jack protested that he was enjoying it as much as they. But no. Besides, it was supper-time, and with a “Shall we have some fish, Ned?” Mrs. Hampton donned her hat, and went for three pennyworth of fried fish.
There was good value for money when buying fish in Hull in those days. A whole whiting or haddock, sometimes a gurnet. True, they were small, and usually cooked in cotton-seed oil, but the three enjoyed their supper immensely. After supper another glance at the evening paper, reading the interesting parts aloud, and noting the advertisements to be called on the next day, then off to bed by ten o’clock.
The next day was Saturday, and therefore only half a working day, but Jack was up again at 6 a.m. and out looking for work before seven. He was determined to be early at the warehouses this morning. But all to no avail.
Then the shops who were advertising. First of all he called at the dry-goods shop, but great was his surprise on arriving there at 8 a.m. to find at least twenty men waiting. Jack joined in the queue, by eight-thirty the numbers waiting had increased by another ten, and by when the errand boy had commenced to take the shutters down, still more had joined the waiting applicants.
After what seemed an endless time, the first was called in. In a few minutes he came out and another went in.
“What luck, Bill?” asked one who was waiting.
“Same old tale,” answered Bill, “took my name and address and said he would write if I was suitable.”
And so the queue continued moving up one by one, and then Jack’s turn came.
He was ushered into an office by the errand boy, where a dapper man was seated at a desk.
“Name?” asked the man briefly.
“John Bradley.”
“Address?”
“16 West Terrace, Hessle Road.”
“Age?”
“Twenty.”
“Ever worked in a shop before?”
“No,” replied Jack, “but I’m willing to learn, and do my best.”
“No use,” said the manager. “I want someone experienced at the job, and at least five of them I’ve interviewed are accustomed to the work. That’ll do, thank you,” and feeling himself dismissed Jack went out.
Several other places were visited that day, but they were all filled up, and at noon Jack returned to his lodgings, wondering when would he get work.
An appetising smell of fried onions assailed him at the door, and Jack was just going to enquire about Mrs. Hampton cooking something for him, when she said:
“Dinner’s ready; Ned is washing himself, pull a chair up.”
Jack demurred at this, saying the arrangement was for him to keep himself in food, but the good lady soon shut him up.
“Get your dinner, man, and we’ll talk about that later. It’s all right on weekday, but Saturday and Sunday it’s different.”
Here Ned came out of the kitchen, also pressing, so on the joint invitation Jack sat down, and relished a good dinner of steak and onions, afterwards insisting on paying his share of the cost. They protested, saying he had entertained them last night. But no, he had a few pounds he wanted to last out until work was secured, but he wouldn’t sponge, so an amendment was struck to the bargain, that when he joined them for meals on Saturday and Sunday, he would stand his share of the cost.
The afternoon was devoted to sleep by the elder man, and Jack turned again to a walk in the country, both for the joy of being close to nature, and the solace that he could always find in open spaces. Mrs. Hampton attending to the hundred and one things a working woman can always find.
Seven o’clock found the three of them setting out on their Saturday night’s shopping, or as Mrs. Hampton put it, “A working woman’s cry, little money and much to buy.”
They visited the market for potatoes and onions, bought frozen meat, because English was too dear, then to the provision shop for other goods. And Mrs. Hampton could buy, she never spent a penny where a halfpenny would do.
Their shopping completed, they departed for home, Jack and Ned carrying the parcels and huge shopping-bag between them, the good wife chuckling over the way she had saved a penny here, and twopence there.
Next morning Ned took Jack for a walk round the docks, and having experience both as a sailor and a docker, was a really good guide. He took Jack on several ships which were tied up awaiting unloading, and piloted him through the maze of ropes, etc., which litter the deck of ships when tied up. He introduced him to the stokehole, where the firemen work in sweltering heat for an existence.
They visited St. Andrew’s Dock, better known as “Fish Dock.”
A score of trawlers were ready for departure next day. Perky little vessels they appeared to be compared with the huge steamers just visited.
“However do they stand the buffeting of the North Sea?” Jack enquired of Ned.
“It’s a dog’s life,” was the reply. “I’d rather be an A.B. on a big boat any time, than be mate on a trawler, the way they get banged about is something awful. They’re good sea boats,” he continued, “but they’re small and there’s no room forrad, not that they have much time for fo’castle, when they’re not sleeping, they’re working, and believe me there’s more working than sleeping, up-trawl every four or six hours. It’s queer to me that the majority of men that go deep-sea fishing never leave it, but somehow after the one trip I never wanted any more. Perhaps my first experience was a bad one, but most of them stick it for life.”
Jack enjoyed the morning tremendously, and while the elder man slept, he once again rambled the country-side, with the Sunday newspaper for a companion. “What good folk the Hamptons are,” he thought. “Here am I, a complete stranger to whom they haven’t the slightest obligation, and yet they treat me as one of their own.”
An early return for tea, another reading, and the day of rest was over.
To-morrow he had to commence the weary round of seeking work again. Fortunately his clothes and boots were in good condition. His box was still at Beckton in the care of Marthalice, and Jack decided to leave it there until he’d found work; in any case sending for it would only mean spending money in carriage, and he didn’t really require them, for if not well dressed, he was at all events decently clad.
“Should he write to Marthalice?” For some minutes Jack pondered the question, but no, “She would only worry to know he had not yet secured work, and perhaps if he didn’t write she’d think no news is good news.”