H.J. Tennant in the Eastbourne Workhouse Casual Ward - Part II

THE EASTBOURNE CASUAL WARD.

A NIGHT AND DAY IN THE WORKHOUSE.

CHATS WITH CASUALS.

Part II.
NIGHT.

NIGHT.

Then was hardly room to turn about in that small lobby, but the shoemaker had evidently been in before, and was soon in a state of nudity. He then went into the bathroom, and I followed. The bathroom was scrupulously clean, and well provided with clean towels. The walls were built of bricks whitewashed, and decorated with "Notices to Casuals." Around the room were hot water pipes, and the bath was supposed to be warm. Unfortunately someone had forgotten to keep the fire up and consequently the water was cold. After the shoemaker had performed his ablutions, I took mine, and was not at all sorry that I got in before the third man and the boys.

TO-BED.

Having well dried ourselves for which we were given ample time, the porter conducted us one by one across the yard. My turn came, but it was too dark to distinguish the nature of the place. By the aid of his lamp, however. we reached a door much similar to that attached to a cattle shed. It was strongly locked. In the middle of the door was a little opening with an iron bar across the centre. Shown inside I could just catch a glimpse of a long box, on legs, filled with straw, and on it a blanket and coverlet. Hastily throwing off my boots, I sprung on to the straw, dressed and composed myself for the night. The blanket was warm but not wide enough to wrap ones self well up in, so I buried myself in the straw.

SUPPER.

Hardly had I turned round when I heard the gate opening, and another pauper, or paupers, were admitted. Having, I presume,gone through the same procedure, they were at length locked into their cells, and I thought we were left for the night. This, however, proved untrue. At about nine o'clock, someone stood at the grating of the door and shouted "Bread!"

"No!" I answered. In spite of the negative, a piece of brad was tossed through the aperture and fell on my face. The shutter to the opening was then closed and bolted firm outside, and I was left for the night. Examining the bread as well as I could, I found it had one good feature, there was at least, enough of it. Still I didn't feel like eating any, and put it down by my side. I was dozing off into a sort of uneasy sleep, when horrors! I felt some animal run over my face, followed by another. At first I thought they were rats, but recollecting the bread, I threw it on the floor. As I did so, I heard the occupant of the next ward give vent to a series of oaths, both loud and deep, and then a noise as of throwing something. Then all was quiet, except the mice nibbling away at the bread.

MORNING.

Contrary almost to my expectations, I fell into a fairly sound sleep. The straw was so warm, and I almost wished I had half undressed, but the clothes did not much disturb me. I awoke with the light, and then had leisure to examine my cell. It was rectangular, being, as far as I could judge, about 4ft. 6in. wide and 7ft. long, by 10ft. in height. The walls were whitewashed, and around, just above the bed, ran a large hot water pipe. The bed itself I have already described. In the corner of the cell between the bedstead and the wall was a rough bench, to sit on, or put down one's things. On the pipe was placed a little Testament, and someone had also placed then a tract. The tract contained a rather sensational story of three brothers who had gone from some little village in Scotland, to the war in India, and all met with their deaths. Each of the three it seems came under the ministration of some lady who visited the sick, but only one made anything approaching to a Christian-like end. Having carefully read the tract through, even to the moral which was 'repent in time,' I turned to the New Testament, and must candidly confess that I did more consecutive reading of it than I ever did on any previous occasion.

BREAKFAST.

After a couple of hours or so, the sound of unlocking of bolts could be heard. Presently I could hear a voice exclaiming "Can't you work? If you come here you will have to work!" A little grumbling could be heard and then the shutter was opened, and I was again saluted with the monosyllable "Bread !"

A piece similar in size to that which was thrown in on the previous evening, was tossed in, and I was told to be ready to get up.

This, then, was all there was for breakfast. The quantity couldn't be grumbled at certainly, nor as far as I could judge could the quality though I didn't eat any of it then.

After a quarter of an hour or so the doors were unlocked, and we were ordered to clean out our own cells. For this purpose a broom was provided, and a coal-scuttle to take away the dirt.

THE CASUAL YARD.

I had now an opportunity of seeing what the yard was like. It was rectangular with a pebble wall at one of the shorter ends, surmounted by fragments of broken glass. In the centre of the wall was the entrance door from the street. On the opposite side was the door leading to the work house. On the longer sides of the parallelogram were a series of cells, some eighteen, I think, altogether. In front of each of the cells were curious things constructed of iron, which I could not at first guess the utility of. A circular hole ten or twelve inches deep, and half as much again in diameter, was faced with granite. Over this hole was an iron tressle, the cross bar of which had a hole through the centre. Through this hole an iron crow bar was placed. This bar was about four feet six long, ana mass had a heavy piece of iron attached to one end. There was no other implement of any kind. A mass of stones broken up very small stood at one end, and in front of one of the cells was a tap with a cold water pipe at which some of the men were slaking their thirst. This, as I found out afterwards, is the only liquid supplied to casuals. I was aroused from my survey by an order from the porter to go and clean out my cell as it was not done properly. Having executed the work at length to his satisfaction, the cells were locked, and the porter withdrew.

THE CASUALS STORY.—A COACHMAN'S MISTAKE.

A more forbidding lot of villains than these casuals looked it would be difficult to depict. One was undersized, deformed, imbecile to all appearance, while another had only one eye the other being gouged out in some quarrel. Both these were dressed in tatters. Leaning against a cell was a man with a different set of features. He wore spectacles, and from the look of disgust which every now and then crossed face, it was evident he did not belong to this set. Apart from the others, walking to and fro with his arms folded was a young fellow, who had evidently seen better days, and while the others were joking in slang phrases, interlarded with oaths, he appeared not to be aware of their presence. A tall powerfully built man, wearing a labourer's suit lounged against the doorway, while leaning against the opposite wall was a man of middle height. The latter did not join much in the conversation, but when did he his oaths were coarser, his slang viler, than any of the others.

"Has anybody any bacca?" asked the man in spectacles.

"I've got a plug" said the tall man.

"Well I've got a pipe and some matches," went on the first speaker, "you give me some bacca and I'll lend the pipe."

This bargain being agreed upon, and the pipe lit, the smoker said, "I once gave a tanner for a lucifer."

"What a mug," ejaculated the man supporting the wall, how did you do that?" The other men came a little closer, the man drew a long puff, and replied, "Well, one night I was in Colorado, and we were walking to a mining camp. I was dreadfully cold, and we had to pitch for the night under some rocks. Just at the time a cow boy came along and offered to guide me to his hut. He had a lucifer, which he gave me to light my pipe, and I gave him a tanner. It was the last one I had."

Feeling interested in the fellow's stay I got into a conversation with him and elicited the following. When he was a young man he entered Lord Rivers' service as a coachman. He did very well and was getting on with his master but unfortunately he took to drinking. One day he drove his master to an afternoon matinee and was told to wait. After the play was over his master told him to drive home without him. The coachman started, but he had taken too much liquor, and in driving through the carriage gateway drove against the gate posts. That he said was his first mistake, he lost his situation and then went to the Californian goldfields. Here, however, he was not very successful, and he returned to England. His money was spent, and he could not obtain work. He fell into his old ways and now he was on the road.

THE CLERK'S ILLNESS.

By this time, the young fellow who had been standing at some distance approached, and hearing the conclusion of the other's tale said that his was much worse as it was through no fault of his own.

"I was a clerk," he began, "in a Manchester warehouse. My employer was very kind to me, but I fell ill. My master kept the place open for a month, but could not do no any longer. I was ill six months. All my little savings went, and when I got well I was a beggar. 'Twould have been better if I had died. Well I tried to obtain work without success. My late master gave me a couple of sovereigns but could not give me any employment, and I went to London thinking I could get something there. But I was worse off, I didn't know anyone, and all I got was a little copying work, and sometimes wrapper addressing. This just kept body and soul together, but in the slack season even this fell off. My clothes were worn out, and no respectable person will let me come near them. Now I'm a casual!" This the poor fellow said with the bitterest disgust. "I can't go much lower. If I can't get employment soon I'll make the country keep me at its own expense."

The conversation was here interrupted.