Foreign News: Ship Strike

COMMONWEALTH (British Commonwealth of Nations)

The ship owners of the British Commonwealth are seeing snakes— not the pink snakes which consort with orange toads, purple salamanders and magenta tarantulas—but sea snakes with long green bodies, gliding through great billows of discontent with only their heads sticking out—heads with red hoods, with the flittering tongue of Trotzky and the penetrating eyes of Lenin.

In brief, they were confronted by an unusually noxious kind of snipping strike. About a year ago the wages of seamen were increased one pound a month. During the summer, ship operators declared that in order to meet world competition in the shipping business, they would have to make a reduction in wages of the same amount. The owners got together with the officials of the National Seamen’s and Firemen’s Union and the reduction was agreed upon. It looked like a peaceful settlement.

Not so. Two weeks ago outlaw strikes began to break out in British ports. The Amalgamated Marine Workers’ Union—of Communistic and I. W. W. tendencies—took the side of the strikers and began to steal the members of the regular union. Throughout the Commonwealth the strike spread rapidly. Australia was affected at once. There Tom Walsh led the insurgent seamen. Last week 33 ships were tied up at Melbourne. Twelve liners were unable to leave Durban (South Africa). Newcastle (New South Wales), Cape Town, Rangoon (Burma), Sydney, Auckland, Wellington, Dunedin, Christchurch (New Zealand) were all affected.

The Federal Government in Australia took measures against the strikers. Walsh and other strike leaders were summoned before the Deportation Commission. In South Africa, Premier Hertzog, sitting perilously atop a coalition Govern-hands off. It was reported that 700 Lascars had shipped from Bombay to man the vessels at Durban.

In England itself the strike was not so serious as in the Dominions because of the large number of unemployed seeking work. But it was bad enough. The ports of London, Southampton, Hull, Avon-mouth and Swansea were wholly or partly tied up. The strike was spreading to Bristol and Liverpool. Even some of the Channel steamers were compelled to cancel sailings.

In the world-wide onslaught on British shipping, the hand of Moscow was seen. Many of the leaders of the outlaw strike were known to be Reds. The owners offered to remit penalties if the sailors would return to work promptly. The officers of the National Seamen’s and Firemen’s Union denounced the strikers, but conditions grew worse rather than improved.

The most spectacular event of the strike was the sailing of the White Star Liner Majestic from Southampton. As the strike began to-develop, Americans in Europe were seized with a sudden and overpowering desire to go home. In a few days the bookings for the Majestic swelled from 1,700 to 2,300 —a. record number this year for the westward voyage. Bookings came in so rapidly that soon all accommodations were occupied. Men in’.the cloak and suit business who had been abroad buying and had to be back for fall openings, fell on their knees and implored officials for passage, offering two and three times the regular fare—to no avail.

When the Majestic docked at Southampton a crew was promptly signed on for the next voyage. The lucky 2,300 congratulated themselves. Then reports began to reach London that members of the new crew had given the required 24 hours notice and would quit. There was clamor in the White Star offices. Officials replied: “We know nothing.” A day passed and still pessimistic reports came from Southampton. More clamor in the White Star offices:

“What about the Majestic?”

“The Majestic will sail tomorrow morning.”

“Aren’t the sailors striking?”

“The Majestic will sail on time.”

“Without a crew?”

“The boat trains will leave as usual.”

So perforce the passengers went to Southampton. Their friends bidding them goodby, said: “We’ll stop here until lunch time—in case you come ashore again.” And the passengers called back to their friends threading their way through the strikers on the dock:

“Yes,—and reserve us rooms at ment, including Labour, kept his the Drummond Arms, will you?”

“All right, but Heaven help you— at the Drummond Arms.”

Eleven o’clock, the hour of sailing, was almost at hand. Smoke was pouring from the funnels, but it was evident that there was very little crew aboard. Suddenly down the gangplank dashed a dozen sailors, joining the strikers at the last minute.

“She cannot sail,” they brought word. “She is 129 men short.”

Along the ship’s rails 2,300 passengers watched expectantly; there might be something interesting. Morris Hillquit, socialist, was there, very much interested in the strike procedure. Olga Petrova was there, expecting a good show. There was Mrs. William B. De Mille thinking what a great scene it would be for her husband. Onetime Senator Joseph Frelinghuysen of New Jersey looked on meditatively, calculating what political events might have developed if the strike had happened in Hoboken. There too was Jerome Napoleon Bonaparte, wondering whether after all Trotzky had discovered a way of destroying the British mastery of the seas which even the great Bonaparte had not conceived.

It was eleven o’clock A bell rang. The hawsers were cast off. The great vessel began to tremble with the churning of her screws. Gradually she backed away from the dock and drew put into the Solent. Suddenly a little tug, the Southampton Roadster, left the shore and pushed toward the liner. The tug’s deck was crowded with roughly clad men. Were the strikers actually going to attack the leviathan? As the tug came alongside, a line was thrown to her. At last the passengers understood. The bootlegged crew, who had been hidden all night, clambered up the ship’s sides and officers rushed them to their posts. The passengers began to cheer and slap each other’s backs. “Hurray for the statue of Liberty!”

From the dock where the disgruntled strikers stood, a wail went up. There were shaking of fists and baffled execrations.