Part 24 (2/2)

It was justified. He sprang to his feet, and I knew at once that he was very angry indeed. I could see a broad white rim all round the irises of his eyes, and a pulse in his temples was throbbing visibly.

I recognized the symptoms. I had seen them once before at a vestry meeting when some ill-conditioned paris.h.i.+oner said that the Dean's curate was converting to his own uses the profits of the parish magazine. The periodical, as appeared later on, was actually run at a loss, and the curate had been seven-and-ninepence out of pocket the previous year.

The Dean said something to Babberly, but the crowd had begun the fourth verse of the hymn, and we could not hear what he said. I got up and shut both windows. The atmosphere of our committee-room was hot, and likely to become hotter; but it is better to do business in a Turkish bath than not to do it at all. There was plainly no use our talking to each other unless we were able to hear. My action gave Babberly time to regain his temper.

”I apologize,” he said. ”I apologize to all of you, and especially to you, Mr. Dean, for an intemperate and uncalled-for exclamation.”

The Dean sat down. The pulse in his forehead was still throbbing, but the irises of his eyes ceased to look like bulls' eyes in the middle of targets.

”I have been a consistent supporter of the Union,” said Babberly, ”for twenty years. In season and out of season I have upheld the cause we have at heart on English platforms and in the House of Commons. I know better than you do, gentlemen, what the temper of the English people is. I know that we shall sacrifice their friends.h.i.+p and alienate their sympathy if we resort to the argument of lawlessness and violence.”

”It's the only argument they ever listen to,” said McNeice. ”Look at the Nationalists. What arguments did they use?”

”Gentlemen,” said Babberly, ”are you going to ask Ulstermen to fire on the King's troops?”

”I reckon,” said Conroy, ”that we mean to use our guns now we've got them.”

Babberly made a curious gesture with his hands. He flung them out from him with the palms upwards and then sat down. McNeice rose next.

”For the last two years,” he said, ”we've been boasting that we meant to resist Home Rule with force if necessary. That's so, isn't it?”

Malcolmson growled an a.s.sent.

”English politicians and Irish rebels said we were bluffing. Our own people--the men outside there in the street--thought we were in earnest. The English went on with their Bill. Our people drilled and got rifles. Which of the two was right about us? Were we bluffing or were we in earnest? We've got to answer that question to-morrow, and we'll never get another chance. If we don't fight now, we'll never fight, for there won't be a man left in Ulster that will believe in us again. I don't know that there's any more to be said. I propose that Lord Moyne puts the question to the meeting and takes a vote.”

Then Cahoon rose to his feet.

”Before you do that, my lord,” he said, ”I'd like to say a word. I'm a business man. I've as much at stake as any one in this room. My fortune, gentlemen, is in bricks and mortar, in machinery and plant not ten miles from this city. I've thought this matter out, and I came to a conclusion years ago. Home Rule won't do for Belfast, and Belfast isn't going to have it. If I saw any way of stopping it but the one I'd take it. There are thousands, yes, gentlemen, thousands of men, women, and children depending on my business for their living. Home Rule means ruining it and starving them. I don't like fighting, but, by G.o.d, I'll fight before I submit to Home Rule.”

Lord Moyne looked slowly round the room. His face was quite pale. It seemed to me that his eyes had grown larger. They had a look of terror in them. His hands trembled among the papers in front of him. He saw at once what the result of a vote would be. He looked at me. I shook my head. It was quite plain that nothing I could say would influence the meeting in the least.

”Gentlemen,” said Moyne, ”are we to attempt to hold our meeting to-morrow? Those who are in favour of doing so say 'Aye.'”

Cahoon, McNeice, Malcolmson, the Dean and Conroy voted ”aye.”

”The 'ayes' have it,” said Moyne.

”Before we part,” said Babberly, ”I wish to say that I leave Belfast to-night--”

Malcolmson muttered something. Babberly held up his hand.

”No,” he said. ”You are wrong. I'm not afraid. I'm not taking care of my own skin. But I have lived a loyal man and I mean to die a loyal man. I decline to take part in the rebellion.”

I have heard Babberly speak on various occasions and admired his eloquence. This time I recognized his sincerity. He was speaking the truth.

”I shall go back to England,” he said, ”and, of this you may rest a.s.sured, that I shall do what can be done in Parliament and elsewhere to save you and the men whom I must call your victims from the consequences of to-day's madness and to-morrow's crime.”

He left the room. The five men who had voted ”Aye” were gathered in a knot talking eagerly. I took Moyne's arm and we went out together.

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