Jago.  Don’t let him go up?  That’s free speech, that is. [He goes up.] I ain’t got much to say to you.  Look at the matter plain; ye ’ve come the road this far, and now you want to chuck the journey.  We’ve all been in one boat; and now you want to pull in two.  We engineers have stood by you; ye ’re ready now, are ye, to give us the go-by?  If we’d aknown that before, we’d not a-started out with you so early one bright morning!  That’s all I ’ve got to say.  Old man Thomas a’n’t got his Bible lesson right.  If you give up to London, or to Harness, now, it’s givin’ us the chuck—­to save your skins—­you won’t get over that, my boys; it’s a dirty thing to do.

[He gets down; during his little speech, which is ironically spoken, there is a restless discomfort in the crowd.  Rous, stepping forward, jumps on the platform.  He has an air of fierce distraction.  Sullen murmurs of disapproval from the crowd.]

Rous. [Speaking with great excitement.] I’m no blanky orator, mates, but wot I say is drove from me.  What I say is yuman nature.  Can a man set an’ see ’is mother starve?  Can ’e now?

Roberts. [Starting forward.] Rous!

Rous. [Staring at him fiercely.] Sim ’Arness said fair!  I’ve changed my mind!

Roberts.  Ah!  Turned your coat you mean!

     [The crowd manifests a great surprise.]

Lewis. [Apostrophising Rous.] Hallo!  What’s turned him round?

Rous. [Speaking with intense excitement.] ’E said fair.  “Stand by us,” ’e said, “and we’ll stand by you.”  That’s where we’ve been makin’ our mistake this long time past; and who’s to blame fort? [He points at Roberts] That man there!  “No,” ’e said, “fight the robbers,” ‘e said, “squeeze the breath out o’ them!” But it’s not the breath out o’ them that’s being squeezed; it’s the breath out of us and ours, and that’s the book of truth.  I’m no orator, mates, it’s the flesh and blood in me that’s speakin’, it’s the heart o’ me. [With a menacing, yet half-ashamed movement towards Roberts.] He’ll speak to you again, mark my words, but don’t ye listen. [The crowd groans.] It’s hell fire that’s on that man’s tongue. [Roberts is seen laughing.] Sim ’Arness is right.  What are we without the Union—­handful o’ parched leaves—­a puff o’ smoke.  I’m no orator, but I say:  Chuck it up!  Chuck it up!  Sooner than go on starving the women and the children.

     [The murmurs of acquiescence almost drown the murmurs of
     dissent.]

Evans.  What’s turned you to blacklegging?

Rous. [With a furious look.] Sim ’Arness knows what he’s talking about.  Give us power to come to terms with London; I’m no orator, but I say—­have done wi’ this black misery!

[He gives his muter a twist, jerks his head back, and jumps off the platform.  The crowd applauds and surges forward.  Amid cries of “That’s enough!” “Up Union!” “Up Harness!” Roberts quietly ascends the platform.  There is a moment of silence.]

Blacksmith.  We don’t want to hear you.  Shut it!