Disasters -- Fiction; London (England) -- Fiction; Science fiction; Short stories
"Burglars! A night like this! I wish that the streets of London were
always as safe. If I might be allowed to make up the fire, sir----"
But Fisher was already asleep ranged up close alongside the fender.
IV.
The uneasy impression made by the _Chat_ special was soon confirmed
next morning. No coal was available at the wharves under three
shillings per hundredweight. Some of the poorer classes bought at the
price, but the majority turned away, muttering of vengeance, and deeply
disappointed.
Whatever way they went the same story assailed them. The stereotyped
reply was given at King's Cross, Euston, St. Pancras and in the
Caledonian Road. The situation had suddenly grown dangerous and
critical. The sullen, grotesque stream flowed back westward with a
headway towards Trafalgar Square. A good many sheepskins were worn, for
Gough's idea had become popular.
In some mysterious way it got abroad that John Hampden was going to
address a mass meeting. By half-past two Trafalgar Square and the
approaches thereto were packed. It was a little later that Hampden
appeared. There was very little cheering or enthusiasm, for it was too
cold. The crowd had no disposition to riot, all they wanted was for the
popular tribune to show them some way of getting coal--their one great
necessity--at a reasonable price.
Hampden, too, was singularly quiet and restrained. There was none
of the wildness that usually accompanied his oratory. He counselled
quietness and prudence. He pledged the vast gathering that before night
he would show a way of getting the coal. All he required was a vast
orderly crowd outside St. Stephen's where he was going almost at once
to interrogate Ministers upon the present crisis. There was a question
on the paper of which he had given the President of the Board of Trade
private notice. If nothing came of that he would know how to act.
There was little more, but that little to the point. An hour later a
dense mass of men had gathered about St. Stephen's. But they were grim
and silent and orderly.
For an ordinary afternoon sitting the House was exceeding full. As the
light fell on the square hard face of John Hampden a prosy bore prating
on some ubiquitous subject was howled down. A minute later and Hampden
rose.
He put his question clearly and to the point. Then he turned and
faced the modestly retiring forms of Mr. John Hayes and his colleague
Rhys-Smith, and for ten minutes they writhed under the lash of his
bitter invective. As far as he could gather from the very vague reply
of the Board of Trade representative, the Government were powerless to
act in the matter. A gang of financiers had deliberately chosen to put
money in their pockets out of the great misfortune that had befallen
London. Unless the new syndicate saw their way to bow to public
opinion----
"It is a business transaction," Hayes stammered. "We shall not give
way. If the Government likes to make a grant to the poorer classes----"
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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