Black Rock, Ralph Connor [top novels of all time .txt] 📗
- Author: Ralph Connor
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‘When I draw in my stool On my cosy hearth-stane, My heart loups sae licht I scarce ken’t for my ain,’
there was a feeling of tears in the flowing song, and we knew the words had brought her a picture of the fireside that would always seem empty. I felt the tears in my eyes, and, wondering at myself, I cast a stealthy glance at the men about me; and I saw that they, too, were looking through their hearts’ windows upon firesides and ingle-neuks that gleamed from far.
And then she sang ‘The Auld Hoose,’ and Geordie, giving me another poke, said, ‘That’s ma ain sang,’ and when I asked him what he meant, he whispered fiercely, ‘Wheesht, man!’ and I did, for his face looked dangerous.
In a pause between the verses I heard Geordie saying to himself, ‘Ay, I maun gie it up, I doot.’
‘What?’ I ventured.
‘Naething ava.’ And then he added impatiently, ‘Man, but ye’re an inqueesitive buddie,’ after which I subsided into silence.
Immediately upon the meeting being called to order, Mr. Craig made his speech, and it was a fine bit of work. Beginning with a clear statement of the object in view, he set in contrast the two kinds of leagues proposed. One, a league of men who would take whisky in moderation; the other, a league of men who were pledged to drink none themselves, and to prevent in every honourable way others from drinking. There was no long argument, but he spoke at white heat; and as he appealed to the men to think, each not of himself alone, but of the others as well, the yearning, born of his long months of desire and of toil, vibrated in his voice and reached to the heart. Many men looked uncomfortable and uncertain, and even the manager looked none too cheerful.
At this critical moment the crowd got a shock. Billy Breen shuffled out to the front, and, in a voice shaking with nervousness and emotion, began to speak, his large, coarse hands wandering tremulously about.
‘Oi hain’t no bloomin’ temperance horator, and mayhap oi hain’t no right to speak ‘ere, but oi got somethin’ to saigh (say) and oi’m agoin’ to saigh it.
‘Parson, ‘ee says is it wisky or no wisky in this ‘ere club? If ye hask me, wich (which) ye don’t, then no wisky, says oi; and if ye hask why?—look at me! Once oi could mine more coal than hany man in the camp; now oi hain’t fit to be a sorter. Once oi ‘ad some pride and hambition; now oi ‘angs round awaitin’ for some one to saigh, “Ere, Billy, ‘ave summat.” Once oi made good paigh (pay), and sent it ‘ome regular to my poor old mother (she’s in the wukus now, she is); oi hain’t sent ‘er hany for a year and a ‘alf. Once Billy was a good fellow and ‘ad plenty o’ friends; now Slavin ‘isself kicks un hout, ‘ee does. Why? why?’ His voice rose to a shriek. ‘Because when Billy ‘ad money in ‘is pocket, hevery man in this bloomin’ camp as meets un at hevery corner says, “‘Ello, Billy, wat’ll ye ‘ave?” And there’s wisky at Slavin’s, and there’s wisky in the shacks, and hevery ‘oliday and hevery Sunday there’s wisky, and w’en ye feel bad it’s wisky, and w’en ye feel good it’s wisky, and heverywhere and halways it’s wisky, wisky, wisky! And now ye’re goin’ to stop it, and ‘ow? T’ manager, ‘ee says picters and magazines. ‘Ee takes ‘is wine and ‘is beer like a gentleman, ‘ee does, and ‘ee don’t ‘ave no use for Billy Breen. Billy, ‘ee’s a beast, and t’ manager, ‘ee kicks un hout. But supposin’ Billy wants to stop bein’ a beast, and starts a-tryin’ to be a man again, and w’en ‘ee gets good an’ dry, along comes some un and says, “‘Ello, Billy, ‘ave a smile,” it hain’t picters nor magazines ‘ud stop un then. Picters and magazines! Gawd ‘elp the man as hain’t nothin’ but picters and magazines to ‘elp un w’en ‘ee’s got a devil hinside and a devil houtside a-shovin’ and a-drawin’ of un down to ‘ell. And that’s w’ere oi’m a-goin’ straight, and yer bloomin’ League, wisky or no wisky, can’t help me. But,’ and he lifted his trembling hands above his head, ‘if ye stop the wisky a-flowin’ round this camp, ye’ll stop some of these lads that’s a-followin’ me ‘ard. Yes, you! and you! and you!’ and his voice rose to a wild scream as he shook a trembling finger at one and another.
‘Man, it’s fair gruesome tae hear him,’ said Geordie; ‘he’s no’ canny’; and reaching out for Billy as he went stumbling past, he pulled him down to a seat beside him, saying, ‘Sit doon, lad, sit doon. We’ll mak a man o’ ye yet.’ Then he rose and, using many r’s, said, ‘Maister Chairman, a’ doot we’ll juist hae to gie it up.’
‘Give it up?’ called out Nixon. ‘Give up the League?’
‘Na! na! lad, but juist the wee drap whusky. It’s nae that guid onyway, and it’s a terrible price. Man, gin ye gang tae Henderson’s in Buchanan Street, in Gleska, ye ken, ye’ll get mair for three-an’-saxpence than ye wull at Slavin’s for five dollars. An’ it’ll no’ pit ye mad like yon stuff, but it gangs doon smooth an’ saft-like. But’ (regretfully) ‘ye’ll no’ can get it here; an’ a’m thinkin’ a’ll juist sign yon teetotal thing.’ And up he strode to the table and put his name down in the book Craig had ready. Then to Billy he said, ‘Come’ awa, lad! pit yer name doon, an’ we’ll stan’ by ye.’
Poor Billy looked around helplessly, his nerve all gone, and sat still. There was a swift rustle of garments, and Mrs. Mavor was beside him, and, in a voice that only Billy and I could hear, said, ‘You’ll sign with, me, Billy?’
Billy gazed at her with a hopeless look in his eyes, and shook his little, head. She leaned slightly toward him, smiling brightly, and, touching his arm gently, said—
‘Come, Billy, there’s no fear,’ and in a lower voice, ‘God will help you.’
As Billy went up, following Mrs. Mavor close, a hush fell on the men until he had put his name to the pledge; then they came up, man by man, and signed. But Craig sat with his head down till I touched his shoulder. He took my hand and held it fast, saying over and over, under his breath, ‘Thank God, thank God!’
And so the League was made.
When I grow weary with the conventions of religion, and sick in my soul from feeding upon husks, that the churches too often offer me, in the shape of elaborate service and eloquent discourses, so that in my sickness I doubt and doubt, then I go back to the communion in Black Rock and the days preceding it, and the fever and the weariness leave me, and I grow humble and strong. The simplicity and rugged grandeur of the faith, the humble gratitude of the rough men I see about the table, and the calm radiance of one saintly face, rest and recall me.
Not its most enthusiastic apologist would call Black Rock a religious community, but it possessed in a marked degree that eminent Christian virtue of tolerance. All creeds, all shades of religious opinion, were allowed, and it was generally conceded that one was as good as another. It is fair to say, however, that Black Rock’s catholicity was negative rather than positive. The only religion objectionable was that insisted upon as a necessity. It never occurred to any one to consider religion other than as a respectable, if not ornamental, addition to life in older lands.
During the weeks following the making of the League, however, this negative attitude towards things religious gave place to one of keen investigation and criticism. The indifference passed away, and with it, in a large measure, the tolerance. Mr. Craig was responsible for the former of these changes, but hardly, in fairness, could he be held responsible for the latter. If any one, more than another, was to be blamed for the rise of intolerance in the village, that man was Geordie Crawford. He had his ‘lines’ from the Established Kirk of Scotland, and when Mr. Craig announced his intention of having the Sacrament of the Lord’s Supper observed, Geordie produced his ‘lines’ and promptly handed them in. As no other man in the village was equipped with like spiritual credentials, Geordie constituted himself a kind of kirk-session, charged with the double duty of guarding the entrance to the Lord’s Table, and of keeping an eye upon the theological opinions of the community, and more particularly upon such members of it as gave evidence of possessing any opinions definite enough for statement.
It came to be Mr. Craig’s habit to drop into the League-room, and toward the close of the evening to have a short Scripture lesson from the Gospels. Geordie’s opportunity came after the meeting was over and Mr. Craig had gone away. The men would hang about and talk the lesson over, expressing opinions favourable or unfavourable as appeared to them good. Then it was that all sorts of views, religious and otherwise, were aired and examined. The originality of the ideas, the absolute disregard of the authority of church or creed, the frankness with which opinions were stated, and the forcefulness of the language in which they were expressed, combined to make the discussions altogether marvellous. The passage between Abe Baker, the stage-driver, and Geordie was particularly rich. It followed upon a very telling lesson on the parable of the Pharisee and the Publican.
The chief actors in that wonderful story were transferred to the Black Rock stage, and were presented in miner’s costume. Abe was particularly well pleased with the scoring of the ‘blanked old rooster who crowed so blanked high,’ and somewhat incensed at the quiet remark interjected by Geordie, ‘that it was nae credit till a man tae be a sinner’; and when Geordie went on to urge the importance of right conduct and respectability, Abe was led to pour forth vials of contemptuous wrath upon the Pharisees and hypocrites who thought themselves better than other people. But Geordie was quite unruffled, and lamented the ignorance of men who, brought up in ‘Epeescopawlyun or Methody’ churches, could hardly be expected to detect the Antinomian or Arminian heresies.
‘Aunty Nomyun or Uncle Nomyun,’ replied Abe, boiling hot, ‘my mother was a Methodist, and I’ll back any blanked Methodist against any blankety blank long-faced, lantern-jawed, skinflint Presbyterian,’ and this he was eager to maintain to any man’s satisfaction if he would step outside.
Geordie was quite unmoved, but hastened to assure Abe that he meant no disrespect to his mother, who
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