shiver of apprehension, as if even in all this crowd Voisey could see him and the hatred could burn across the air and find him.
“Come after all, ‘ave yer?” a voice called out, for a moment breaking the spell.
“Of course I have come!” Voisey called back, turning to face them, his head high, his expression half amused, Pitt invisible, one anonymous face among the hundred or so men. “You have votes, don’t you?”
Half a dozen men laughed.
“At least ’e in’t pretending as ’e gives a damn about us!” someone said a few yards to Pitt’s left. “I’d rather ’ave a bastard wot’s ’onest than one wot ain’t.”
Voisey walked over to the wagon which had been left as a makeshift platform, and with an easy movement climbed up into it.
There was a rustle of attention, but it was hostile, waiting for the opportunity to criticize, challenge and abuse. Voisey seemed to be alone, but Pitt noticed the two or three policemen standing well back, and half a dozen or more newly arrived men, all watching the crowd, burly men in quiet, drab clothing, but with a fluidity of movement and a restlessness quite unlike the weariness of the factory workers.
“You’ve come to look at me,” Voisey began, “because you are curious to see what I am going to say, and if I can come up with anything at all to justify your voting for me, and not for the Liberal candidate, Mr. Serracold, whose party has represented you as far back as you can remember. And perhaps you expect a little entertainment at my expense.”
There was a rumble of laughter and one or two catcalls.
“Well, what do you want from government?” Voisey asked, and before he could answer himself he was shouted down.
“Less taxes!” someone yelled, to accompanying jeers.
“Shorter hours! A decent working week, no longer than yours!”
More laughter, but sharp-edged, angry.
“Decent pay! ’Ouses wot don’t leak. Drains!”
“Good! So do I,” Voisey agreed, his voice carrying well in spite of the fact he did not seem to be raising it. “I would also like a job for every man who wants to work, and every woman, too. I’d like peace, good foreign trade, less crime, more certain justice, responsible police without corruption, cheap food, bread for everyone, clothes and boots for everyone. I’d like good weather as well, but . . .”
The rest of his words were lost in a roar of laughter.
“But you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I could do that!” he finished.
“Don’t believe yer anyway!” a voice shouted back, to more jeers and calls of agreement.
Voisey smiled, but the angle of his body was stiff. “But you’re going to listen to me, because that’s what you’ve come for! You’re curious what I’m going to say, and you’re fair.”
This time there were no catcalls. Pitt could feel the difference in the air, as if a storm had passed by without breaking.
“Do most of you work in these factories?” Voisey waved his arm. “And these docks?”
There was a murmur of assent.
“Making goods to ship all over the world?” he went on.
Again the assent, and a slight impatience. They did not understand the reason why he asked. Pitt did, as if he had already heard the words.
“Clothes made from Egyptian cotton?” Voisey asked, his voice lifting, his eyes searching their faces, the language of their bodies, the boredom or the quickening of understanding. “Brocades from Persia and the old Silk Road east to China and India?” he continued. “Linen from Ireland? Timber from Africa, rubber from Burma . . . I could go on and on. But you probably know the list as well as I do. They are the products of the Empire. That’s why we are the biggest trading nation in the world, why Britain rules the seas, a quarter of the earth speaks our language, and soldiers of the Queen guard the peace over land and sea in every quarter of the globe.”
This time the rising noise had a different note to it, pride and anger and curiosity. Several
“Come after all, ‘ave yer?” a voice called out, for a moment breaking the spell.
“Of course I have come!” Voisey called back, turning to face them, his head high, his expression half amused, Pitt invisible, one anonymous face among the hundred or so men. “You have votes, don’t you?”
Half a dozen men laughed.
“At least ’e in’t pretending as ’e gives a damn about us!” someone said a few yards to Pitt’s left. “I’d rather ’ave a bastard wot’s ’onest than one wot ain’t.”
Voisey walked over to the wagon which had been left as a makeshift platform, and with an easy movement climbed up into it.
There was a rustle of attention, but it was hostile, waiting for the opportunity to criticize, challenge and abuse. Voisey seemed to be alone, but Pitt noticed the two or three policemen standing well back, and half a dozen or more newly arrived men, all watching the crowd, burly men in quiet, drab clothing, but with a fluidity of movement and a restlessness quite unlike the weariness of the factory workers.
“You’ve come to look at me,” Voisey began, “because you are curious to see what I am going to say, and if I can come up with anything at all to justify your voting for me, and not for the Liberal candidate, Mr. Serracold, whose party has represented you as far back as you can remember. And perhaps you expect a little entertainment at my expense.”
There was a rumble of laughter and one or two catcalls.
“Well, what do you want from government?” Voisey asked, and before he could answer himself he was shouted down.
“Less taxes!” someone yelled, to accompanying jeers.
“Shorter hours! A decent working week, no longer than yours!”
More laughter, but sharp-edged, angry.
“Decent pay! ’Ouses wot don’t leak. Drains!”
“Good! So do I,” Voisey agreed, his voice carrying well in spite of the fact he did not seem to be raising it. “I would also like a job for every man who wants to work, and every woman, too. I’d like peace, good foreign trade, less crime, more certain justice, responsible police without corruption, cheap food, bread for everyone, clothes and boots for everyone. I’d like good weather as well, but . . .”
The rest of his words were lost in a roar of laughter.
“But you wouldn’t believe me if I told you I could do that!” he finished.
“Don’t believe yer anyway!” a voice shouted back, to more jeers and calls of agreement.
Voisey smiled, but the angle of his body was stiff. “But you’re going to listen to me, because that’s what you’ve come for! You’re curious what I’m going to say, and you’re fair.”
This time there were no catcalls. Pitt could feel the difference in the air, as if a storm had passed by without breaking.
“Do most of you work in these factories?” Voisey waved his arm. “And these docks?”
There was a murmur of assent.
“Making goods to ship all over the world?” he went on.
Again the assent, and a slight impatience. They did not understand the reason why he asked. Pitt did, as if he had already heard the words.
“Clothes made from Egyptian cotton?” Voisey asked, his voice lifting, his eyes searching their faces, the language of their bodies, the boredom or the quickening of understanding. “Brocades from Persia and the old Silk Road east to China and India?” he continued. “Linen from Ireland? Timber from Africa, rubber from Burma . . . I could go on and on. But you probably know the list as well as I do. They are the products of the Empire. That’s why we are the biggest trading nation in the world, why Britain rules the seas, a quarter of the earth speaks our language, and soldiers of the Queen guard the peace over land and sea in every quarter of the globe.”
This time the rising noise had a different note to it, pride and anger and curiosity. Several