The Baker's Tale (16 page)

“You do not understand me,” Shaw warned.

“To the contrary, sir. I understand your kind perfectly well. You hatch nice little plots and hold nice little councils and receive nice little favors from those who represent wealth and power. That is all you do.”

“Hold your tongue, sir. There is no fouler imputation against a man than to say that he swore to do justice without fear or favor and then exercised his authority to benefit interests other than the impartial administration of the law. I am of the law. I am styled a gentleman by Act of Parliament and the payment of twelve pounds sterling for a certificate each year. I take pride in the purity of my motives and the correctness of my conduct.”

Throughout the inquest, Shaw had been writing his findings on a long sheet of paper. Now he charged the jurors with the instruction that they had heard all of the evidence necessary for them to come to a conclusion.

“Death is as much a part of doing business in the mines as it is in the rest of life,” the coroner told them. “Providence has been unwatchful of many individuals who have gained their bread in this perilous employment. This unhappy occurrence might have taken place on any day at any instant of time. For reasons of God's infinite wisdom, inscrutable to the human mind, it was suffered to occur in this place and at this time. No one can suppose that the pit was set fire on purpose. The credible evidence is clear that conditions in the mine were in accord with reasonable standards of safety. I cannot conceive how any person might entertain the slightest doubt upon this case.”

He then read to the jurors the findings that he had prepared for them.

“The deceased died tragically in the Lancashire pit. We find the cause of this tragedy to be Accidental Death arising from the
explosion of inflammable air, which could not be controlled by human means. It has been made clear by testimony heard to the most ordinary understanding that no human means could have been devised to save the deceased. Clearly, there was no design on the part of anyone to cause the explosion or fire in the pit. We, the jury, express full conviction that there was no want of due care and no bad management on the part of those who oversaw the direction and management of the Lancashire mine.”

Shaw directed the twelve jurors to sign the inquest report. Seven members of the jury signed the document with an “X.” It is unknown which of the others could do more than sign their name.

“Verdict accordingly,” the coroner announced. “Accidental death. Gentlemen of the jury, you are discharged. Thank you for your service.”

In the aftermath of the inquest, miners milled about angrily in front of the courthouse.

“The coroner himself chose the jurors,” Crowl fumed. “No other verdict could have been expected.”

“I would have him branded on the face, dressed in rags, and cast out on the streets to starve,” another miner declaimed.

“I would shoot him through the heart if he had one,” a third miner offered. “Death has no right to leave him standing while it takes our people down.”

“The problem is not Shaw,” Crowl told the others. “He is only a tool for those in power. If he died today, he would be replaced tomorrow by another just as bad as he is.”

Edwin left Lancashire by train the following morning. Crowl was at the train stop to bid him farewell.

“If we lay dead at the bottom of the deepest hole in the earth, rotting in a giant coffin, we would not be less heeded than we are
here,” he told Edwin. “And there is no way out. If one of our men has an angry word with those who oppress us, to jail with him. If a boy comes of age and tries to live elsewhere, he is a vagabond. To jail with him. If we refuse to work, crowds of young boys and girls growing up in this town would come forward, anxious to take our place and toil in the mines at Murd's pleasure. He need not be afraid of losing his fortune.”

Albert Diamond had chosen to remain in Lancashire for another day to finalize some dealings with Julian White. Edwin was alone with his thoughts on the train ride home.

When men commit an injustice, it is not uncommon for them to express pity for the object of their misdeed and to feel virtuous and morally superior to those who express no pity at all. To give Alexander Murd and his conniving instruments their due, they eschewed that sort of dissimulation.

It was easy for Albert Diamond and Julian White to excuse their conduct. “We are men of business. We have a fiduciary obligation to Alexander Murd and a business obligation to fulfill.” Jonathan Hunt and Samuel Shaw had their own self-justifying rationale.

As for Murd, his hopes, joys, and affections all melted down to gold. Wealth, and only wealth, was the source of his happiness. Wealth was to be acquired by any and all means. He had no pity for others and no passion but love of coin.

Crafty avarice grows rich. Honest labour remains poor.

“I am uncomfortable when people have power over me,” Edwin thought to himself. “I can only begin to imagine what the miners feel.”

He knew now what he had to do.

On his first day back in London, Edwin readied his courage to confront Alexander Murd. He would not raise the issue of what he had learned by surreptitiously studying Murd's ledgers. That was for another time. For now, conditions in Lancashire were enough.

In mid-morning, Edwin knocked on the door to Murd's private room.

Murd looked up from his desk when Edwin entered.

“I must speak with you, sir.”

“I am busy now. We will talk later in the day.”

There was boldness in Edwin's manner.

“Later will not do. I must trouble you to speak with me now.”

A look of aggravation crossed Murd's face.

“You are to do as I say, not the other way round. That is my right as your employer and a reasonable return for the advancement that I have given to you.”

Edwin did not shrink from Murd's glare. He stood with the strength of a man who had sufficient reply in reserve and was about to deliver it. Then he spoke, looking Murd straight in the eye.

“The plainness of my purpose empowers me to speak. I would like to begin with conditions in Lancashire.”

Edwin then spoke from the heart about the mine disaster. A responsible member of human society would likely have listened with horror. At the very least, there would have been an expression of sympathy for the sufferers.

Murd's face showed only indifference and the absence of guilt, as if there were no more spots upon his soul than on his pure white linen shirt.

“Do not talk of disaster in that way. We have nothing to do with disasters in this office.”

“A tragedy, perhaps?”

“There are hazards in all occupations. Ships sink to the bottom of the sea, and scores of men are lost.”

“In Lancashire, women and children are among the dead.”

“What of it?”

“That is illegal, sir.”

“The coroner's inquest found no impropriety in the operation of the mine.”

“Women and children, sir.”

A look of contempt flared in Murd's eyes.

“Is the death of a mother any worse than the death of a father? Is the death of a child half so bad as the death of the grown man who provides for all of the children?”

“It is not just that they die, sir. It is the way they live. There are thousands of miners breathing heavily now, who live in the most degrading poverty and have no chance at a better life. They live lives of unremitting toil—”

“What else are they made for?” Murd interrupted. “Without their toil, their lives are of little worth.”

“Not to you, perhaps. But they are precious to those who live them.”

Murd looked at Edwin with a cold careless smile.

“You assume a tone of high-mindedness that is most unbecoming.”

“I take my position on principle.”

“As do I. The people you speak of so lovingly are little better than savages.”

“I do not understand your meaning, sir.”

“That surprises me because you are usually quick of mind. But I will be plainer. The miners and their families live like beasts.
They are crude. They wallow in filth. They procreate without thought.”

“The conditions in which they live are not of their choosing. Perhaps those you disparage would be more to your liking if they were allowed an education and taught to read and write.”

Murd's face darkened.

“If the miners learn to read and write,” he said in a cold hard voice, “it would be easier for troublesome ideas to spread. And if the miners become educated as you suggest, who would bring the coal out of the ground?”

Murd's visage tightened. Every line in his face was cruelly compressed.

“The rule of my life is to not allow myself to be thwarted by anybody. Anybody. Everyone profits from the neediness of others. Men of business build our fortunes on the weakness of mankind. I am reviled and threatened every day by one man or another, and things roll on just the same. I do not grow poorer either.”

“You are immoral, sir.”

“Your opinion is of no interest to me.”

“Perhaps not. But I do not regret having voiced it.”

“You talk like a child.”

“My comfort is that I am speaking the truth. Truth that should have been spoken long ago.”

“You are an impudent young man.”

Edwin weighed his next words.

“Have you ever been in a mine?”

“I decline to answer that question.”

“You decline?”

“Your impertinence will not be tolerated.”

“Where, sir, are the graces of your soul?”

Throughout the conversation, Murd had conducted himself in an imperious manner. Now his features grew even more forbidding, and he spoke as coldly as if he were made of snow.

“I have been much too lenient with you. You are dismissed from your employment immediately.”

“That fits well with my intentions.”

“You will be sorry for this.”

“I will never regret the preservation of my self-respect, nor will I sacrifice it at your bidding. I am young and the difficulties of my situation have kept me in check for far too long. But I have been roused now beyond all endurance. I would be sorry forever and would despise myself for every hour of my life if I remained in your employ after what has occurred.”

“You will leave instantly.”

“I will, sir. With the greatest of pleasure. You have not the man to deal with that you think you have.”

And so it was done. Edwin was now a young man with much to offer in the way of ability and personal appeal but without an employer.

There was his future to think of. And redress for the miners. Ruby also weighed heavily on his mind.

His boldness in confronting Murd had obscured the absence of a longer-range plan. Now, Edwin realized, he needed the advice of one wiser and more worldly than he was. He had met Octavius Joy only once, but had been impressed by the older man's acuity and generosity of spirit. Ruby had spoken fondly of him.

The sun was setting when Edwin appeared at Octavius Joy's door. He stated his purpose to the housekeeper and was brought in to see Mr. Joy.

Octavius Joy was at his desk, wearing a comfortable old coat. He rose and greeted Edwin warmly.

“Could I have a moment of your time, sir?”

“As many moments as you wish. Have you any word of Ruby?”

They discussed what they knew. That Ruby was in America and, for a while at least, had been in Boston.

“But that is not why I have come,” Edwin said. “I am fighting my way against difficulties and would be grateful for any guidance that you can give me.”

Edwin then recounted for Mr. Joy the history of his employment with Alexander Murd, and told him in detail of the disaster in Lancashire and the inquest that followed.

“Upon my most moderate calculation, more than two hundred people have died in Murd's mines within the past ten years. That is a blood sacrifice and an unacceptable price for the miners to pay for their employment.”

He told Octavius Joy about general conditions in the mines and the fact that Murd still directed women and children to work underground as labourers.