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Updated: May 14, 2025
"Well," said he, "I had at first, an' that's the truth. I remember th' first day that I came to th' job. As I walked on to th' ground there was a great lump o' clay coom bang into my earhole th' first thing; but I walked on, an' took no notice, no moor than if it had bin a midge flyin' again my face.
He blazed an' roared, an' comed over an' bummed my head 'pon the earhole a buster as might 'a' killed some lads. My ivers! I seed stars 'nough to fill a new sky, Joan, an' I went down tail over nose. I doubt theer's nobody in Newlyn what can hit like faither. I was for axin' mother then, but reckoned not for fear as he might be listenin' agin.
He was, it appeared, a Regius Professor and the author of some half-dozen works on sociology a record, Owen felt, that almost justified loaf-slinging and earhole clipping in moments of irritation. The manager started to speak, but the man of letters anticipated him. 'Is this the fool? he roared.
Some of 'em won't be stopped. They have to go. Well, if one goes, the rest keep trying to follow, and no forty men will hold 'em. You just keep your eyes open, and if a beast breaks out in spite of the whips, you shoot him if the blacks tell you. See?" "Where am I to shoot him?" "Shoot him any place. In the earhole, or the shoulder, or the ribs, or the flank. Any place at all.
Once in the street a bit after he'd come home Will Westaway turned round and saw Spider making hideous faces at him behind his back. So he walked across the road and smacked the little man's earhole and pulled his beard. Nought happened, however." "And what became of William Westaway?" "Well, most of us was rather sorry for him.
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