Endless Sea

Chapter 4: The Foremen and The Factory

February 1rst, 1852

Foreman Charley Kabble walked up and down the aisles around the factory, watching between rows of machines and eyeing the workers as they sewed fabrics and cotton into material worthy of clothing. He was eating something, maybe some bread. Howard watched with envy, he was so hungry and tired he would give anything for food. But he still had six long hours of work ahead of him before it was time to return home. 

The fat foreman walked right behind Howard, who was sat on a high stool as he worked with the string in his hands, lying it over the loom as he tried to ignore the man behind him, who leaned closer and squinted slightly. 

"Sir," Howard muttered, attempting to be respectful. 

"What is your name." Foreman Kabble asked, "I don't recognize you." 

Howard gulped, releasing the large bar over the tightened string as he looked over to the man. "Howard."

Kabble leaned over Howard when he turned to him. "How old are you, Howard." His breath smelt like meat fat and onions,

"I'm ten." Said Howard. "Sir,"

"Would you like to do a favor for me?" He asked the young boy, who looked at him with confusion. "I need someone to fetch water from the well, and I think you would be perfect for that." 

Howard paused for a while, then spoke. "Where's the well?"

"You walk down the street, go left, then you walk in between those two shops the uh- bakery and some other store I don't know, you'll know it when you see it. And if you continue to go forward there's the well." Explained Kabble. 

Howard nodded a little, trying to remember the instructions as he took the bucket from Kabble and walked down the row of men and women working at looms. Mostly women. Howard left the factory, the bright sun made his eyes sting from lack of sleep and sitting in the dark factory for the entire day most days. But it was nice to see the sun again. Howard made his way down the busy London street, carrying the bucket which was a quarter of his size. 

After twenty minutes he found the well, tying the bucket to the string and lowering it down into the aged well. Watching the bucket vanish into the dark abyss, only to return as Howard pulled the heavy bucket back up. He grunted, it was heavier than he thought it would be. Howard put his whole back into it as he pulled on the rope, eventually, the bucket resurfaced and Howard untied it. He groaned and whined the whole way back, it was so heavy he had to lean over as he carried it. Why did water weigh so much? If Howard made water he would make it light! 

Another twenty minutes passed and he was back to the factory, he didn't even make it in the door when Kabble and Foreman Rolland Grains stopped him. Grains was Kabble's superior and was looking at his nice pocketwatch. 

"Nearly an hour he was off doing Gods knows what," Said Grains, talking about Howard without looking at the child. 

Howard looked up at them, not putting down the bucket as they continued to speak about him being tardy. Howard wasn't sure what that word meant, 'tardy', it sounded like some sort of food to him. It only reminded him how hungry he was. 

Just then, Grains pulled the bucket from Howard's hands. Howard felt shocked as it was pried from him with such ease. Grains looked at the boy's face, before dumping the bucket onto his head. A few people stopped to watch, appearing confused or shocked. Howard stood there, soaked in freezing water and frozen in place.

What just happened?

"Useless child." Grains said, walking into the factory. 

Kabble, now holding the bucket, gave Howard an angry look. "Look at what you've done! Go get another bucket." He said, shoving the bucket into Howard's arms and returning into the factory.

Howard felt a lump in his throat, he didn't understand what he did wrong. Or why the man did that. He couldn't remember a time where everything he did didn't tick someone off. Trudging back to the well, his shoes were filled with water and his feet were damp, but everything was damp. Water dripped from his hair onto his face and down his back, his short ponytail and clothes absolutely drenched. He found himself crying during the walk there and back, handing the bucket to Kabble who took it to his office. Howard sat back at his loom, still dripping wet as he continued to work.

At the end of the day, he went to leave with everyone else but was stopped as Grains put his foot in front of him. Howard looked up at him with subtle fear,

"Look at the mess at your station, water everywhere. What do you think you're doing leaving it like that. Are you some kind of pig?" asked the man.

Howard shook his head, looking down at the floor shamefully. 

"You will clean the floor before you go, the whole floor." Grains stated, before walking off.

It wasn't fair. 

None of it was fair,

But nonetheless, Howard took two hours to scrub the whole factory floor up and downstairs. Even in the two offices of Kabble and Grains. None of this felt worth the pay, or the effort. But every time Howard thought of his darling mother, he remembered why he worked. He remembered how sick she was and that she needed him. He felt so selfish. 

Once work was done, Howard left. It was dark out, with no people in sight. Howard walked home, his clothing damp and cold with the chilly London air. He hung his head with a miserable feeling of knowing tomorrow would be the same, and the next day, and the one after that.

Howard arrived home, removing his wet shoes and setting them by the door before going inside. He recognized the large boots at the shoe rack, father and Hugh were home. 

"HOWARD!" Hugh shouted from the sitting room.

He felt a certain sense of dread, feeling as if he was melting with exhaustion. Howard brushed off his clothing and fixed his hair before walking into the room. "Yes, Hugh?" He smiled.

"Why are none of the chores done, and dinner isn't made." He asked, gritting his yellow teeth which looked like they were going to rot out of his ugly face.

"I had to stay late, I'm sorry Hugh." Muttered Howard. 

Hugh leaned closer to Howard, "What was that boy."

Howard looked up at him, he couldn't stop it, he began to cry as his green eyes filled with tears. He couldn't make the words come out, his lip trembling as he sobbed and slumped to the floor.

"What is wrong with you!?" Hugh asked, standing up and walking to Howard. He grabbed his arm and pulled him to his feet. "Go do your chores, go, now." Said Hugh.

He nodded, sniffling and crying to himself as he began to fix dinner. Howard didn't eat that night, not hungry, instead, he cleaned while everyone ate, and while they slept. Finding himself looking out the window to the rising sun by the time he was done.

It was time for work again, 

Dreading the day ahead of him, Howard put his shoes back on. He felt sick from wearing his wet clothes for the past twelve hours, or perhaps more than that. Howard didn't really know the time anymore, he just knew when it was time for work and when it was time for chores. Maybe work was all he was meant to do with his life.

Before he left, his father had woken up. Howie approached his son. "Howard, my boy. Come to me." Howie said, 

Howard slowly walked to his dad, tiredly hugging onto him.

Howie chuckled, patting his head. He failed to notice the look of misery on his son's drained face. "Off to work you go, that's my boy!" 

He sounded so cheerful, it made Howard sick. How could his father be so happy over Howard being sent to his own Hell? Every day that he worked felt like another step towards his grave.