Overshadowed Part 7

He looked so grave that John had some slight misgivings that all was not going to go so well. The foreman was busy arranging some papers, and did not speak at once. At length he said, "John, you have been a good faithful workman and we have all liked both you and your work, you have been so polite, industrious, punctual and painstaking."

John felt rea.s.sured by these words and said, "Thank you. Thank you, indeed. I certainly have striven hard to deserve your good opinion."

When John was through, the foreman resumed, "But I am very sorry to say that I have bad news for you."

John's hat, which he was holding in his hands, dropped to the floor and he grew weak from the shock of disappointment. He said to himself, "I am not promoted. I shall have to work along at the same old figure."

The foreman paused before delivering the next blow. "The bad news that I have to tell you, John, is that you cannot work for us any more."

"Who has been lying to you on me? Let me face my accuser," said John aroused, excited.

"No one has spoken ill of you, John. There is not a man in the shop but is your friend. It is not that we find fault with your work that you have to go."

"What on earth then is it?" asked John.

"The Labor Union has ordered us to discharge you."

"The Labor Union! I thought that the Bilgal works belonged to Messrs.

Morrison and Brown."

"They do, John, they do. But it is this way. The Labor Union will order all of its members throughout the country to quit working for any shop that will employ any man to work who is not a member of the Union. All of the men in our shop, except yourself, belong to the organization, and it has sent us word that they will be called out on a strike unless you are discharged. You see you are not a member and they will not let their members work with non-union men."

"Is that all there is to the matter? Why, I will just join the Union, then; that will settle the whole matter."

The foreman smiled a sad sort of smile, saying, "I wish you could, John, I wish you could. But you cannot. You are a colored man."

John dropped into the seat nearest him and he felt his heart rising up into his throat as though to choke him. He said in a husky sort of voice, "I suppose you will give me a recommendation, will you not?"

"Oh, yes, John, with the seal of the firm affixed. But it will do you no good to have it. This Union controls all the shops in the land, and what you meet here you will meet everywhere."

John struggled to his feet and, picking up his hat, pulled it down over his eyes and ran his hands into his pants' pockets. He then looked upon the foreman like a lion at bay. He said in a voice that creaked with the emotion of desperation, "Must I finish the day?"

"No, John," said the foreman. "We were ordered to get rid of you before one o'clock to-day. We put it off till the last moment. John, before you go, let me inform you of something. For some cause or other you have a powerful enemy somewhere--a white man. Our men did not report you. They all liked you and were sorry that you were reported. But we cannot help ourselves. Good day, John. Watch that enemy."

John walked moodily homeward and when he arrived, found Erma there. This astonished him as it was about the hour for her to be busy at Mrs.

Turner's. Forgetting all about himself, he said, "Erm, how is this, darling, I find you at home?"

"John, I have been discharged!" said Erma, falling on his shoulder and bursting into tears. Erma, sobbing, said, "Mrs. Turner drove me out of her house as though I was a dog. She dared me to apply for employment anywhere else in Richmond; and she would not even tell me why I was discharged. And I was doing so well, too. Franzetta was aiding me so much in my studies."

John did what he could to soothe Erma. As soon as he thought it was safe, he told her of his own misfortune. They sat upon the sofa with their hands clasped, silent. The road of life was becoming rugged. The mail man's whistle blew and Erma went to the door and was handed a letter which, upon being opened, told of the foreclosure of the mortgage on their home. Erma looked at John and John looked at Erma.

Dolly Smith was carrying out her promise.

A party had approached the original holder of the mortgage with a view to the purchase thereof. The mortgagee disposed of his claim after being a.s.sured that the purchaser would deal leniently with John and Erma. This pledge was unscrupulously broken and John and Erma were soon turned adrift upon the streets, penniless and homeless. Erma remembered Aunt Mollie's invitation and went to dwell with her. John went to a lumber yard for shelter at night.

CHAPTER XI.

MURDER!

It is Labor Day. Business houses are closed, buildings are decorated, excursionists are present by the thousands from neighboring cities, the roads leading from rural districts are alive with buggies, wagons and carts, all full of people, crowding into Richmond. As a consequence, Richmond is all agog with excitement. There is to be a grand parade of all the local Labor Unions, together with delegations from Unions in neighboring cities.

To add zest to the occasion, the Master Workman of the Labor Union of the United States is present and will make a speech that all are looking forward to with burning interest. The day's celebration is to wind up with a banquet, which is to rival in brilliancy any that the South has ever known. The excitement of the people of Richmond is keyed to the very highest pitch.

A carriage drove up to the hotel door, where the Master Workman was stopping, and he and the Mayor of the city got in, to be driven to the starting point of the parade, to ride at the head of the procession.

John Wysong was the driver of this carriage. Being shut out from all of the departments of skilled labor on account of his color, he had been forced to join the large army of unskilled laborers, grabbing here and there in a desultory manner at every little job of work that appeared, having no steady employment. The greater part of his time he was idle, the labor market among the colored men being glutted. On account of the abnormal demand for carriages on this occasion, scores of men were pressed into service as drivers. Thus John happens to be a carriage driver on this day, and the Master Workman of the Labor Union and the Mayor are to occupy the carriage which he drives.

Surely, there must be somewhere in the universe a powerful, conscienceless being, who delights in bringing together the two beings who, more than any others of the millions of the earth, ought to be untold miles apart, and brings them together at that moment which of all others in the cycle of time is the most inappropriate. Either that, or there is a Providence who permits this disastrous meeting of uncongenial spirits, in order that out of the collision, evil in itself, there may come a spark of light, as when a negative pole meets a positive, and the electric spark results.

Fit or unfit, John Wysong is the driver of the carriage of the Master Workman of the Labor Union. Thus the chief officer of an organization whose hand had fallen heavier upon the head of John Wysong than upon any other individual in Richmond, filling his heart with a brood of vipers, to be fed and kept alive by continued misfortunes, is committed to his care.

The parade commences and winds from street to street, the Master Workman and the Mayor riding at the head of the procession. Finally, they came to a magnificent brick edifice in the course of erection. The Mayor pointed over to the building, and said, "Now, Master Workman, that building is a potent example of how well we have the labor situation in hand in the South. That church edifice is one of the very finest in the city, and is being erected by a congregation of poor Negroes, and yet, not a brick is being laid, nor a nail being driven by a Negro. Our Labor Union controls exclusively the work of the race to which it belongs and has just as absolute control of the work of the other race. Our factories make their shoes, our tailors their clothes, our machinists their stoves, our brick-layers build their houses. Our clerks sell them supplies, and at the same time we exclude them from all such employment." This remark precipitated a discussion of the relation of the Labor Union to Negro labor, and as to why the Negroes were debarred.

The Master Workman, a Northerner, the honored guest of a Southern city (an honor rarely accorded to men of the North), riding with an ex-General of the Confederate Army, the Mayor, out-Heroded Herod in his denunciation of Negroes, and expressed unalterable opposition to their ever being allowed to enter the Unions. He said, "The home, the fireside, is the dearest spot to the Anglo-Saxon, and in his family all his pride centers. Through centuries the Anglo-Saxon has been evolving his ideals and sentiments concerning home life and the place it should occupy socially in the congregation of other homes. In order to sustain these ideals a larger amount of money is needed than is needed to sustain the home life of the Negro with his ideals at their present stage of evolution. Hence, we cannot afford to enter into compet.i.tion with the Negro. For it would not be a question of dollars. It would be a question of home against home. So we of the Labor Unions have decided that either our homes must be crushed out or the Negro. And you know what the Anglo-Saxon does to a weaker foe that does not accept his standard. He simply destroys him."

Here he paused for an instant, and then resumed, "But the greatest objection we have to the Negro is that his nature does not seem to have in it the seditious element to any appreciable degree. He will move along patiently, enduring evils and debating his right--actually his right--to rebel against oppression. He has an abnormal respect for const.i.tuted authority. He does not admit to himself the inherent right to throw off the hand of an oppressor. He stands and looks pleadingly at him, waiting for the time to come when the better sense of the oppressor will a.s.sert itself. He really expects for the tyrannous spirit to develop forces within that will overthrow itself. Ignorant of history, he does not know that the spirit of oppression will yield only to force or the fear of it. The Anglo-Saxon has never gotten anything for which he did not fight, or impress the party concerned that he was ready to fight for it.

"Now, our Union wants it distinctly understood that what we labor for WE MUST HAVE. We shall have it if we ignore all laws, defy all const.i.tuted authority, overthrow all government, violate all tradition. Our end MUST be attained, at whatever cost. If a foe stands in our way, and nothing will dislodge him but death, then he must die. That is the dictum of the Anglo-Saxon. The Negro, lacking this spirit, has no place in our ranks."

John Wysong had heard every word of the conversation up to this point, but his mind could go no further. It was in a whirl. Over and over again the words of the Master Workman rang in his ears: "If a foe stands in our way and nothing will dislodge him but death, then he must die." The clatter of the horses' hoofs seemed to say this; the revolving wheels of the carriage seemed to repeat it over and over, and the hum and noise of the city seemed to be but a loud echo of the sentiment that had fallen into Wysong's already disordered brain. Time and again he had to be hallooed to by the policemen to keep in the line mapped out for the parade. His hands trembled with nervous excitement, and his eyes were red and wild-looking.

At length the parade was over. The Mayor suggested that the Master Workman go to the City Hall and enter the tower, rising two hundred feet in the air, so that he could have a view of the entire city. John Wysong heard the suggestion and it made him tremble all the more violently, his heart thumping loudly the while. "If a foe stands in our way and nothing will dislodge him but death, then he must die," kept ringing in his ears.

The Reception Committee, in a carriage following that of the Master Workman, went with him to the City Hall. They entered that magnificent building and went from floor to floor, John Wysong following them, unnoticed. They entered the tower and ascended to the small, dark room at the very top, having a large window with a low window sill, through which window a person looking out could command a view of the city. The news spread that the Master Workman was going to the tower, and crowds of holiday loungers gathered about to cheer him when he appeared at the tower window. Others gathered to find out the meaning of this crowd, so the throng swelled and swelled. The Master Workman and his group are now in the small tower room. All the members of the group stand back to allow him to look out of the large, open window. When the crowd below sees his stalwart form appear at this window, it raises cheer after cheer. The remainder of the group rush to the window to look out over the Master Workman's shoulders to see the meaning of the noise and the crowd.

John Wysong, who had stood just outside of the door of the tower, saw the rush to the window, and, the soil being prepared, the seed of murder dropped into his heart. His breath came hot and fast. He stepped with the stealthiness of a cat toward the group surrounding the Master Workman. They were all intent upon the cheering crowd beneath, and did not notice him. He pressed for room, but those he touched, having their heads out of the window, supposed it to be a fellow committeeman, and did not look round. John stooped down and as quick as a flash seized hold of the Master Workman's ankles, and gave him a quick, powerful, upward jerk that threw him forward, out of the window. As he went tossing out, a committeeman seized his coat and held him thus for an instant. But it was only for an instant. The committeeman pressed his side against the window facing and held to the coat; but it began to rip, aided by the violent, but fruitless clutching of the Master Workman. Slowly but surely the coat was ripping.

Two hundred feet below, the people were paralyzed with horror. They saw the form of the man whom they were so wildly cheering a moment before suspended in mid-air, sustained by a ripping coat. A thousand hearts stood still; a thousand voices were mute; a thousand chills of terror crept over men's shuddering frames. The coat gave way and the Master Workman started down on his awful journey. The people turned their heads away from the sickening sight to follow. Fifty feet from the top of the tower the body struck a protuberance, bounded outward, and fell plump upon the iron palings two hundred feet below, and they ran their narrow shaped heads through his body as unconcernedly as though they were stationed there from all eternity to receive him.

CHAPTER XII.

THE VISIT OF A POLICEMAN.

The friends of the Master Workman will take his body and bury it with all the pomp and honor due his exalted station. _Requiescat._ But we go in quest of the young man with the awful stain of murder upon his soul.

John Wysong was not suspected of the murder. Without stopping to even debate the matter, it was decided that in the jostle of the committeemen to see below, the Master Workman had been accidently pushed out. There are times when all of the attention of an entire group is focused on a given point and such was the case when the crime just recorded was committed. The Mayor stayed to care for the terribly mangled form of the Master Workman and John Wysong drove the carriage to the stable, put up, and went home. Early the next morning he went out and got a newspaper to learn the accepted theory of the death. No thought of murder was found in the long thrilling recital. John now felt partially relieved.

Yet, though undiscovered and apparently safe on the very scene of his crime, John was not altogether easy in mind. His conscience troubled him. He and G.o.d were the sole partners in a terrible secret. The world pa.s.sed him by, ignorant of his deed. But it seemed to him that the terrible load could be the more easily borne if only some one knew it with him. He could not endure that solitary companions.h.i.+p with G.o.d.

Whenever he wondered if the crime would ever be known, his mind could not run out variously to this, that or the other possible source of detection. No, it ran straight to G.o.d; and John would not have been surprised to hear G.o.d tell the world of his crime any day. If G.o.d had had a subordinate, a human being to tell it, John might have thought that G.o.d would not concern himself about making it known. As it was, the responsibility of telling it was with G.o.d; and John looked for it to be told any day. After G.o.d did not tell it, John began to think that G.o.d was waiting on him to tell it. If he did not tell it he felt that his punishment would be twofold. But fear of his awful fate restrained him.

Thus, John Wysong wandered hopelessly about the streets of Richmond day and night. He began to grow thin and Erma soon discovered that some sorrow was eating away his heart. She did what she could to cheer him, but all to no avail. Erma was still at Aunt Mollie's, "taking in was.h.i.+ng" for a living. It barely kept her alive and caused her clothes to be of somewhat inferior quality. John would come to see Erma, and, sitting in front of her, seeing her working so hard, so poorly paid, so poorly clad, would burst into tears. This would unnerve Erma and set her to crying. She would go to John and throw her arms around him and beg him to cheer up and not to break her heart. Her tears would serve to cause John to quit yielding to his feelings.

One day John came to Mrs. Marston's to see Erma. It was now winter and she was in the kitchen was.h.i.+ng out a tub of clothes. She and John were in there alone. Her sleeves were rolled up beyond her elbows, laying bare arms that were perfectly rounded and that tapered with exquisite beauty. Her long black hair had become unpinned and had fallen down over her shoulders, allowing two shapely ears to peep out; and they seemed content with just that much liberty and just that much bondage to anything so beautifully black as Erma's hair. Her s.h.i.+rt waist was unb.u.t.toned slightly at the throat, granting a glimpse of a neck full worthy of partners.h.i.+p with that charming face and well shaped, well poised head. Though at work she was laughing and chatting and joking with John, trying to make him lose his moodiness. Suddenly, the kitchen door was unceremoniously opened and a policeman stood in the doorway.