MORNING SERIAL

ONLY by physical strength alone could they claim victory over him, and this Ieuan knew. Consequently, he did his utmost to avoid antagonizing them. But it was useless. They were determined to make life untenable for him in the foundry.

Abraham interfered when he felt inclined to do so, but his concern was not for Ieuan’s discomfiture or persecution, but for the work in the coreshop for which he was responsible. A delay in getting cores ready for the moulds meant a row with Lu. This, Abraham could not stand.

His sense of pride suffered. He was a competent tradesman, and failure to produce the necessary cores was a reflection on his ability to take charge of a department.

Once he gave Bull a stinging blow across the face with a heavy hempen swab when the apprentice tossed Ieuan’s corebox into the water bosh.

“What’s the idea?” he shouted, threatening Bull with a second blow.

“D’you think I get paid for to see coreboxes being messed up? It’s not to Lu I’ll report you, but to Mr Bevan himself, and then you’ll find yourself in a fine pickle. Out through the gate you’ll go on your neck, and a damn good riddance, I say. A damn good riddance. No second chance you’ll get from Mr Bevan. He’s not so soft as I am with the lot of you. Get on with your work, that’s what you’re paid for.”

Abraham need not have worried unduly over the production side of the coreshop, for towards the end of April a noticeable slump hit the foundry. A trade depression had caught the whole town in its grip. The tinstamping, the chemical works and the smaller factories were on part time.

The only industries that maintained their normal level were the steel-rolling mills and the tinworks, for Abermor was essentially a tinplate and steel town.

Bevan’s Foundry, dependent on the trade orders received from the tinstamping and the other factories, was the first foundry in the town to feel the effects of the depression.