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THE BACKBONE OF THE COAL
STRIKE.
BY M.Q.B.
The little mining township of Outtrim
stands on the edge of the nigged hills at
the western extremity of the rich ''spar
country" of Gippsland. Its main street
runs steeply up to the highest point of the
shoulder of the hill, and then falls in a
siiarp, precipitous slope to tnc pinuis oe
low, which stretch unbroken to the sea.
From any of tlicsc heights the view is
magnificent. Alilo upon mile of plain lies
unfolded at the foot of the ranges, limit
less in extent, barren and poor iu reality,
but rich to the eye in gradations of color.
Bounding the panorama of low lying flats
is the blue lino of tlio sea; and on a clear
day you can catch the glint 'of sunshine
on the waves as they break on Inverloch
beach, ten miles away. Back of the town
ship the bills rise steeply — round rugged
heights, crowned with the huge spara run
ning slicer up without any breuk of leaf or
bough — grey gliosis of a once living forest.
There. is something weinl in tho whole
country, where no green tree grows in the
fertile soil, and looking upwards one sees
no leafy, swaying canopy, hut only the
towering skeletons of long dead giants.
In the valley between two hills, hemmed
in by cottages, lies the heart of Outtrim —
the big coal mine. Tho tall erection of
the screens catches the eye at once, and
beside these the lingo mounds of black
debris scored down their- steep sides by a
fantastic pattern of cracks and water pas
sages. The mine is no longer a busy hive
of workers. For sixteen weeks the only
sign of activity has been tbo smoke, which
shows that the pumping engines are at
their never-ending work. To-day, instead
of 500 skilled men. who ihewed their liv
ing out of the pit, there are, perhaps, ten,
and they are prisoners, who dare not stir
a dozen yards from their guards, and every
where around are' sullen" "eyes' bent on the
mine in never ceasing watchfulness, and if
you pause a moment you bear the low
bum of sullen voices of men and women,
grown bitter with long hardships and
constant brooding over real or imaginary
wrongs.
Mount Misery rises sheer from the black
smudge of the mine, which lias long eaten
its steady way into its heart. It is a
bleak hill, stony, ridged, wind-swept,, too
steep to climb outright, so winding paths
circle in and out amongst its ridges, aiid
in one cleft runs up a llight'of stops cut
in the stiff clay soil, the "Golden Stairs."
Towering again over Alount Misery is the
big Coalville Hill, and all over the lower
rise, scattered thickly and unevenly, as
though shaken over the surface haphazard
by somo gigantic pepper castor, are the
tiny homes of the men who have made Out-
trim— the miners. Bare, bleak little cot
tages, unpainted, for the most part un
kempt, filled with a teeming population.
When the mine is working, like all
other mining townships Outtrim is a gay
litllc place. Aliners are proverbially open-
handed to the point of extravagance, and
these fully bear out the rule. Their
money is made fairly easily, and it flows
like water. They must have the best of
everything— no good, the storekeepers will
tell you, to stock anything of inferior qua
lity. Not one in fifty spends his earnings
judiciously; not one in a hundred ever
thinks of saving a penny. While things
go one well they live in something like lux
ury. But let tho pinch come— and the
pinch is a synonym for a strike in .a mining
district— and in a flash the whole popula
tion is plunged into want, it is sixteen
weeks since the pinch began at Outtrim,
and that the want is there is most piti
fully obvious. Not in the eases of the
men and the children. They look well-fed
enough, though many of the little ones are
in rugs, and almost all are barefoot; but
you need but to look at the faces of the
women to guess at what the pinch must
be. For "of course the men must be fed"
—they will tell you so openly, those thin,
wan-faced women— "they get the best of
everything— and then the kids come in;
and after that we. get — what's left."
.Things are topsy-turvy in Outtrim now,
for the men are inside the houses minding
the babies, and the women are out, lining
the terraces on Alount Alisery, grouping
in the streets, and all standing sentry-go
over the mine and the liuted true laborers.
Not a movement amongst the policemen,
whose helmets shine in tlie shadows of the
screens, can escape those watchful eyes;
not a man can leave ihe mine but lie is
marked; not a train draws into the station
but the watchers are reinforced by scores
eager to see if more "blacklegs" are com
ing to join the fight of Capital against
Labor. The men . are sullen and hitter
enough, doggedly resolute to see the strug
gle out; but the women are fiercely vin
dictive, and their wrath is a force from
which the boldest might well shrink.
Whatever may he the attitude of the
men, the determination of the women
never wavers. "L don't believe my. boss
would give in," said a woman who held
a baby a fortnight old, while to her skirts
clung three others, the eldest of whom
could not have been more than four years
old. "I don't believe lie would: hut if he
would, I wouldn't let him! rd go on a
meal a day first, an' see me an' the kids
starvin'. If we give in now we're beaten
for ever, and there's not a woman in Out-
trim as wouldn't die first!"
' "1 wish to goodness it was over!" The
speaker stood in her doorway, and the cot
tage was made of slabs, with flattened out
tins nailed over the cracks between; it
was unpainted, 6ave that the door and win
dows had been outlined with royal blue
in a somewhat startling manner. "We want
only a little peace an' ouiet, an' a fair
tiling in wages, but we don't get it. God
knows what it's coming to if it goes on
much longer. Strike pay'll buy food, but
it won't buy new clothes an' winter things,
an' my kids is in prints, an' barefoot now.''
And it is almost winter— wet, bleak winter
—in Outtrim! "It only wants sickness to
come, an' T suppose that'll be next."
"Wouldn't it be better tq. give in?"
"Give in!" She flashes round fiercely.
"Give in! I'd see every kid I've got
starvin', an' meself too, before I'd give in.
If the women lost heart the men would,
an' then we'd bo done for."
There have been about fourteen strikes
at Outtrim, and two at Jumbunna.
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