Jerome Bonaparte, who had taken the petition organizer hostage to break through the encirclement, was quickly supported by vigilantes and regular police outside the encirclement. Armed with blunt weapons and smoothbore pistols, they shielded Jerome Bonaparte from the workers.
The workers, worried about harming the hostage, dared not advance after seeing their leader taken, fearing Jerome Bonaparte would kill the respected gentleman.
"Let go of Mr. McGrady, you bastard!"
The radical workers shouted, demanding Jerome release him, but Jerome ignored them, curiously observing the bespectacled, gentlemanly "riot" leader in front of him. He asked, "Are you McGrath? The leader of this strike?"
[McGrath: Member of the Executive Committee of the Charter Faction Association]
Even surrounded, McGrath, the Charter Faction’s "petition" leader, maintained his composure. Jerome Bonaparte spoke with passionate tones, "Sir, our strike’s purpose is merely to fight for our rightful claims! Is it wrong to pursue our interests? Is it wrong to pursue happiness? We work 15, 16 hours a day, isn’t that enough effort?"
McGrath’s speech rendered Jerome Bonaparte silent, internally yearning to side with McGrath and the workers worldwide.
Having "grown up under the red flag," he instinctively felt a connection, yet his rank meant he could never truly stand with them.
The workers’ power in the 19th century was weak. In this era dominated by the aristocracy and the emerging bourgeoisie, the proletarians were deprived of their voice.
Jerome realized that even if he sided with the workers, the result would only be another exile, or being killed in some uprising.
Compared to Jerome Bonaparte’s "inner conflict," the fat police chief had wholly transformed into a thorough bourgeois executioner.
Seeing the hesitant workers, the fat chief regained his arrogance, spat in front of McGrath, and contemptuously remarked, "You’re just a bunch of trash, swine! Your purpose for existing is..."
Before the fat police chief could finish humiliating McGrath, Jerome Bonaparte, visibly irritated, forcefully interrupted, "Shut up, you fool!"
The fat police chief suddenly stopped, his face with a tinge of anger as he pointed at Jerome Bonaparte, shouting, "You’re just a vigilante! How dare you yell at me? Do you know I could lock you up too?"
The arrogant words of the fat police chief further annoyed Jerome Bonaparte. He drew his gun, aimed at the fat chief’s feet, and fired. With a "bang," white smoke billowed from the revolver’s muzzle, the choking powder filling the air, and a small hole appeared at the fat chief’s feet.
The sudden turn of events left the fat police chief stunned and unable to react, now pointing at Jerome Bonaparte, his voice trembling with fear, "You...!"
"Fool! I told you to shut up!" Jerome Bonaparte spared no face for the fool in front of him. The workers’ anger was growing, and any more provocation could lead them to charge directly. Jerome didn’t want to die with this foolish police chief.
The conflict between Jerome and the fat police chief gradually eased the tense atmosphere, as workers watched in confusion at the police infighting.
Some of the official police members also broke into schadenfreude smiles—a foolish superior was everyone’s nightmare.
"Mr. McGrath!" Jerome Bonaparte ignored the fat police chief’s murderous glare, instead speaking to the "prisoner" in a negotiating tone, "Could you ask the worker brothers to leave?"
McGrath had not heard the word "brothers" in a long time. Most respectable people only viewed workers as the lowest class of scum.
McGrath, curiously observing Jerome Bonaparte, said, "Sir, allow me to refuse! Even if you kill me today, they won’t leave! Only if the government accepts our terms!"
Jerome Bonaparte shrugged and said, "Mr. McGrath, trust me! The United Kingdom Government will never agree to your terms. They will just label you as rioters and arrest you all!"
"We resist! We strike! We want them to see our determination!" McGrath spoke with determination.
"It’s useless! Strikes can’t solve the problem! Capital can dehumanize people into tools. For factory owners, if tools are useless, they can be replaced!" Jerome Bonaparte pointed to the workers standing opposite and said, "Factory owners can accept short-term losses. Can they?"
The workers in Britain worked under high intensity daily, yet could only maintain a level slightly above starvation for a family of three.
They could only struggle under the premise of subsistence; those starving can never afford to fight!
"If I were them, I’d unite all London factory owners, blacklist the disobedient! At that point, what would you do?" Jerome Bonaparte continued pressing.
"I..." McGrath was left speechless, never having considered such issues despite organizing the strike.
"You rush into organizing a strike with passion, unable to handle the aftermath! If workers lose jobs due to the strike, how are you any different from the United Kingdom Government?" Jerome Bonaparte continued to press McGrath.
"We want to overthrow the bourgeoisie, claim our rights!" McGrath spoke, although somewhat less confidently.
"What do you rely on to overthrow them? What do you have? What is your foundation? Who are you trying to unite?" Jerome fired a series of questions.
McGrath found himself even more speechless, suddenly feeling this man seemed to understand revolution better than he did.
"Reinforcements have arrived!"
The police officer sent by the fat chief for reinforcements returned breathlessly, shouting to announce it. Behind him was a force of over 200 composed of vigilantes and police.
"Looks like you can’t escape," Jerome Bonaparte shrugged, addressing McGrath.
The arriving reinforcements of vigilantes and police collectively arrested all the workers and put them in jail.
McGrath, as an advocate, was arrested as well.
Surprisingly, Jerome Bonaparte, originally seen as a "police hero," was also arrested.