‘Well, sir, raw wool doesn’t burn that easily. But wood does. I also spoke ter Master Edwin and he told me the same thing – them there skips were going like wildfire. A bit of paraffin on one of the bales, soaking through the sacking inter the wool—’ Wilson stopped and looked down into his drink, sighing. ‘Yer knows, Squire, that could have been a bloody holocaust down there this morning, but for the wind changing and the rain starting when it did. We only had the fire in the warehouse partially under control, yer knows.’
‘But why?’ Adam demanded, still stunned and aghast at Wilson’s words.
Wilson hesitated and sipped his whisky. Then he looked Adam squarely in the eye. ‘Retaliation.’
‘Retaliation! Retaliation for what? Against whom? I’ve been more than decent with the men in the last few years, for God’s sake. You can’t be serious, man.’
Wilson, who had been pondering on the cause of the fire for several hours, picked his words with care. He knew what had to be said, but he felt he must couch his opinions in the most diplomatic terms possible. He cleared his throat. ‘Yer haven’t been at yon mill much in the past year, sir, what with yer travelling an’ all. The men are a bit out of touch with yer, so ter speak. And when yer have been ’ere, yer visits have been brief—’
‘Get to the point, Wilson. You said retaliation. I want to know what you mean by that,’ Adam snapped.
Wilson drew in his breath. ‘I thinks the fire might have been started on purpose like, because of Master Gerald.’
Adam stiffened, his eyes widening. ‘Master Gerald! What’s he been up to in my absence? By God, Wilson, I’ll have his hide if he’s responsible for this. I’ll skin him alive!’
Wilson cleared his throat nervously. ‘Look, Squire, Master Gerald’s a hard worker. I’m the first ter say that. And he luvs the mill, like yer father did. But Master Gerald – well, sir, he just doesn’t know how ter handle the men. Most of ’em just grin and turn away like, pay no attention ter him and get on with their work. But there’s a little extremist group down at yon mill. Troublemakers ter some extent, yer might say. Labourites, yer knows, Squire. Well, they have come ter resent Master Gerald’s way of dealing with ’em.’
‘Out with it all, Wilson,’ Adam said sternly, his anger most apparent.
‘It’s his manner, like I said,’ Wilson replied, lighting a Woodbine. ‘He’s allus pushing the lads around, goading ’em on, cracking t’whip like. And when they come ter him for a few simple concessions, like a longer tea break for one thing, he just wafts ’em away—’
‘You can’t be serious! You don’t expect me to believe a fire was started simply because Master Gerald refused to give the men a longer tea break. That’s preposterous and damned ridiculous, Wilson!’ Adam exploded, his usual self-control slipping momentarily.
‘No, Squire, not for that one thing only, but for lots of things that have mounted up like, over these last months. Small things admittedly, but I knows some of the lads have been boiling lately at Master Gerald’s harshness, his bullying, his temper an’ all—’ Wilson’s voice trailed off.
Adam sighed heavily and leaned back in the chair, his eyes resting on Wilson contemplatively. ‘And so you think some of them started a fire to get even.’ Adam now moved forward, his gaze more penetrating than ever. ‘But that’s a futile gesture, Wilson, since the mill itself could have gone up, and they would have been laid off for weeks on half pay.’
‘Aye, I knows. I’ve considered that fact meself,’ Wilson conceded wearily. ‘But I thinks a small fire was started ter make a point like. I don’t think them as might have started it expected it ter get out of hand the way it did. I don’t, really. Yer knows what I’m getting at, sir. Start a little blaze, destroy a few bales of wool. As I said, make a point. Slow down production, cause a bit of trouble. Make us sit up and take notice.’
‘The culprits?’ Adam demanded, glaring at Wilson.
‘That’s it, Squire, I can’t be pointing any fingers. That group of men I mentioned were all at t’mill this morning, and they all pitched in like hell, that they did.’ Wilson refrained from adding that three of the most violent agitators against Gerald Fairley were, in fact, noticeably and fortuitously absent that day. He himself would deal with them later. For he did believe arson was involved and he was fairly certain the absentees were the arsonists. He would put the fear of God into them. He prayed Adam Fairley would do the same with his son.
Adam was thoughtful, reflecting on Wilson’s words, and then he said, ‘What you’re saying doesn’t really make any sense. Why would they start a fire and then expose themselves to it? That would be most foolhardy.’
‘I told yer, sir, I thinks them as started it intended it as a bit of a scare, that’s all, never expecting it ter blaze the way it did, ter get out of control.’
Now Adam was silent, his wrath with Gerald fulminating inside him. He attempted to calm himself, to think clearly. What Wilson said did make sense – to a degree. Raw wool, because it was oily, smouldered rather than blazed at first. Conceivably, paraffin might well have been poured over one of the bales. Whoever had started the fire probably thought only a portion of the warehouse and a few bales would be damaged. Fools, he thought angrily. The stupid bloody fools. The warehouse was highly inflammable because it was built of wood. They had not considered that aspect or the ultimate consequences of their irresponsible actions. They had not realized the danger to all the mill buildings and the village.
‘Very well, Wilson, I accept your explanation. You could be correct in your assumptions,’ Adam said at last, his face tensely set. ‘And, since the members of that radical group you mentioned were working this morning, we cannot make any accusations, I suppose, can we?’
‘No, sir!’ responded Wilson vehemently. ‘We can’t. We daren’t. We’ve no evidence for one thing, and the way the men worked ter help extinguish the fire – by God, sir, they’d take right exception ter it, they would that. Also, the men’d stick together. We’d have a strike on our hands, I guarantee that, if we start talking about arson.’ Wilson nodded gravely and cleared his throat. ‘Perhaps yer could have a word with Master Gerald when he gets back from Shipley tomorrow, sir, if yer don’t mind me suggesting it. Caution him ter temper his manner, his rough ways with the lads.’
‘Oh, I intend to, Wilson. In fact, he’ll get a dressing down the likes of which he’s never had. Believe me, he will!’ Adam declared, his fury rising to the surface again. ‘I never dreamt he would so wilfully defy my instructions about treating the men decently.’ After a short pause he softened his tone. ‘In the meantime, we have a vital problem to contend with – supplies. All the bales in the warehouse were totally destroyed, as you know. How much raw wool do we have in the other warehouse?’
‘Enough ter carry us through this month, I’d say, sir,’ Wilson responded, his mind working rapidly, evaluating their supplies and their orders. He puffed on his Woodbine. ‘We’ve got a shipment due in from McGill, from Australia, in two or three weeks, thank God. I thinks we’ll be able to manage till then.’
‘Do your best, Wilson. Get on to it first thing on Monday morning. I will come in early myself and we can make our assessments. And you had better build a new warehouse immediately. Use bricks, not wood. And also order another small fire engine. I don’t anticipate a repetition of this disaster, but it’s always wise to be prepared for any contingencies. As you said, we were lucky this time because of the change in the weather.’
‘No, I don’t expect it will happen again, Squire,’ Wilson said, so sharply and with such conviction Adam glanced at him swiftly but made no comment. Wilson did not miss Adam’s reaction and went on in a more even voice, ‘But yer right, it’s allus best ter have plenty of fire-fighting apparatus on ’and, just in case. I was thinking, sir, if yer likes I’ll go down ter yon mill termorrow and start taking stock. It’ll