THE DEPRIVED...Part 7.

A continuation of my book.

Mercifully, at the time of some four hours the hatches were opened and a cooling air poured in so that people relaxed and began to cheer and clap their hands as they climbed the stairs and alighted.                              

 

The dockside at Liverpool was a mass of people coming and going, some not knowing what was to be done next and simply walking from one place to the next and then back again. The people had been herded from the ship and now stood bemused at the traffic and the noise about them. Michael kept hold of Mary’s hand. Beth held onto Sam and kept close to her parents as she stared with wide eyes at the crowds, never having seen so many people and things going on in all her life.                
“This way!” shouted the man who Michael had spoken to earlier.                      

At one end of the dock on a raised platform stood a row of men who held up placards with names and capital letters on them. One man held up a large placard with a capital ‘D’ and a list of names on it.           
“This is ours.” the man shouted, leading Michael towards a large fat man who had raised a sign which had the words ‘Josiah Bambling’ on it.           

There were already a group of people standing beneath the platform when Michael joined them. 
“Is that all for Josiah Bambling?” shouted the man, looking out over the gathered crowd.                                
There were shouts of agreement from the crowd and the man held up a hand.         

“Stay right there and I’ll come down and join you. I’m the Gaffer and come to take you all to your lodgings and tell you what shall happen as far as your work schedule goes for the next four weeks.”                            
The man walked to the far end of the platform and descended the steps before walking the length back through other groups to reach those who waited for him.        

“What’s this about a four-week schedule?” shouted one man.      
This shout was joined by others who demanded an answer.          
“We were told it was for a week’s bondage only, not four weeks!”            
The man from the platform, now much smaller and far more rotund than before and looking rather like a cloth ball held up a podgy hand and began to bluster.            

“I aint got a clue about all that.” he said. “All I know is my orders and that is to tell you that you men here are all in bondage for four weeks, as it says on my papers.”     

“Well it’s not on the document I’ve been given.” shouted the man, not to be put off.                               
He waved the document above his head.                       
“We’ve all been given the same paper, is that right?” he argued, turning to the men now crowded round him.        
“Where does it say on your paper that you are in bondage for one week’s work?” asked the Gaffer.
The man who waved his document now put his hand down.            
"You can read, can’t you?” asked the Gaffer loudly, now sure none of the people could read.
“But we were all told it was for a week’s work!” said the man, now less noisy.       

“It aint what a man tells you. It’s what is written down on your paper. I will only tell you this, if any of you aint in agreement then you are free to go your own way. But I tell you all this much, you won’t be getting any lodgings or work about here when the word is passed about how you are not to be trusted. Now then, you people who wants to work and lodge in happy circumstances follow me.”                
With that the man turned about and marched away as quickly as his stumpy legs could manage.
“What shall we do?” asked Michael of Mary. “I don’t want to be stuck here in Liverpool for four weeks. It smells of rotten flesh and there’s buckets of garbage just being thrown out of windows onto the streets.”       
“Michael dear, let’s just take what we can. At least there’s four weeks work for you and food for us to eat.” replied Mary.                           
Some of the young men, those who were on their own, began to walk away.          

“Hoi!” shouted the Gaffer, coming to a halt and returning to the group and waving the bundle of papers once again round his head.          
“Before you lot go your own way, you have to give back the money for the ticket to board the ship. And I can tell you the cost of that has doubled to four bob, that’s the company’s charge of interest, all legal like. Then there’s the money you have to pay for the lodgings for four weeks which the boss has already paid for in advance. That will be another four bob, making eight shillings in all.”             
“Supposing we don’t want to pay?” demanded a red-faced and angry young man, raising his fist.
“Then you will have the company law down on you and go to jail.” replied the Gaffer, now as red-faced as the man he spoke to.                        
He turned about again and shouted over his shoulder.                 
“Now follow me, you people who want a job!”
The crowd followed the company man away from the Docks, the smell getting stronger as they neared the centre of the town.              
“Here’s where you’ll be staying!” said the Gaffer, stopping to point out a house which stood back from the street.      
The house was large and unruly, unloved and unlived in with broken windows and doors which hung from broken hinges, while most of the tiles were missing from the roof. 

“How are all of us going to set up home in there?” demanded Michael as he stared up at the broken windows.         
“It’s simple, just sort yourselves out.” spoke up the Gaffer. “There’s enough room for three or more families to share a room and the rest of you, those who aint got families and those with no brats, can sleep in the sheds out the back. Just sort yourselves out and make yourselves at home. And don’t forget I’ll be back to take the men to work at five o’clock in the morning.”     
“Wait a minute, mister!” shouted out a man pushing to the front. “Where do we go for a crap? Where are the dung-holes?”                         
“If you go down that street and turn to the left then just follow the stink and you’ll see the people coming and going, that will lead you to the public cesspit. It’s open to the sky and everyone in this area uses it. You can always use a bucket and get it emptied out the back. Don’t be shy and the quicker you country-folk learn what goes on then the quicker you’ll get used to it.” replied the Gaffer before turning away and waddling off without a goodbye.                                

Some families had already entered the house and were going through the rooms, finding corners where they could settle. Fights had broken out between the different families who wanted a bigger share of the room, a room where the door might be placed back into the frame.                        

Michael had taken a room on the third floor, warning Beth and Sam to stay away from the broken window. They were joined by a small wiry man who had brought his family of two girls and three boys from County Mayo.      

“My name’s Patrick.” he announced himself and then introduced the names of his family, going down the line.               
Michael shook firm hands and then pointed out the names of his own family. Kathleen, Patrick’s wife, was much like Mary, small and fair with an efficient way about her. A smile was enough to establish a working unity so that Mary and Kathleen began to tidy up what they could, piling up the dirt and broken crockery left by the last lodgers and hanging a blanket of sacking over the broken window to hold some of the draught at bay.