REMOTE STORAGE THE UNIVERSITY OF ILLINOIS LIBRARY 331.6 W67t Return this book on or before the Latest Date stamped below. A charge is made on all overdue books. U. of I. Library "^Af? 27 '36 JUH 2'A m DUE . //'3o 9324-S LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME THE READERS' LIBRARY 50 Volumes Published Full list of Tttlet can be had from the Publishers DUCKWORTH & CO. COVENT GARDEN, LONDON LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY BY ALFRED WILLIAMS AUTHOR OF ■a WILTSHIRE village' 'villages of the white horsb' LONDON DUCKWORTH & CO. 3 HENRIETTA STREET, COVENT GARDEN, W.G. I'lrst fjiblisked 1915 Published tn the Readers' Library 1920 Printed in Great Britain iy Turnhull 4* Shears, EdinburgK 351.3 1 f>» ^ve^-T -c ">'- To My Friend ALFRED E. ZIMMERN 626028 PREFACE My object in penning " Life in a Railway Factory " was to take advantage of the opportunities I have had as a workman, during twenty-three years' continuous service in the sheds, of setting down what I have seen and known for the interest and education of others, who might Uke to be informed as to what is the actual life of the factory, but who have no means of ascertain- ing it from the generality of literature published upon the matter. The book opens with a short survey of several causes of labour unrest and suggestions as to its remedy. Then follows a brief description of the stamping shed, which is the principal scene and theatre of the drama of Ufe exhibited in the pages, the central point from which our observations were made and where the chief of our knowledge and experience was acquired. After a glance into the interior we explore the surroundings and pay a visit to the rolling mills, and watch the men shingling and rolling the iron and forging wheels for the locomotives. Continuing our perambulation of the yard we encounter the shunters, watchmen, carriage finishers, painters, washers-down, and cushion-beaters. The old canal claims a moment's attention, then we pass on to the ash-wheelers, bricklayers, road-waggon builders, and the wheel-turning shed. Leaving them behind we come to the " field," where the old broad- gauge vehicles were broken up or converted, and pro- ceed thence into the din of the frame-building shed and vii viii LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY study some portion of its life. Next follows an ex- ploration of the smithy and a consideration of the smith at work and at home, his superior skill and characteristics. From our study of the smiths we pass to that of the fitters, forgemen, and boilermakers, and complete our tour of the premises by visiting the foundry and viewing the operations of the moulders. The early morning stir in the town and country around the sheds, the preparations for work, the manner in which the toilers arrive at the factory, and the com- position of the crowd are next described, after which we enter the stamping shed and witness the initial toils of the forgemen and stampers, view the oil furnace and admire the prowess of " Ajax " and his companions. The drop-hammers and their staff receive proportionate attention ; then follows a comparison of forging and smithing, a study of several personalities, and an in- spection of the plant known as the Yankee Hammers. Chapter XI. is a description of the first quarter at the forge expressed entirely by means of actual conversa- tions, ejaculations, commands, and repartees, overheard and faithfully recorded. Following that is a first- hand account of how the night shift is worked, giving one entire night at the forge and noting the various physical phases through which the workman passes and indicating the effects produced upon the body by the inversion of the natural order of tilings. The remainder of the chapters is devoted to the description and explanation of a variety of matters, including the manner of putting on and discharging hands, methods of administration, intimidating and terrorising, the interpretation of moods and feeUngs during the passage of the day, week and year, hohdays, the effects of cold and heat, causes of sickness and accidents, the psycho- logy of fat and lean workmen, comedy, tragedy, short LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY ix time and overtime, the advantages — or disadvantages — of education and intelligence, ending up with a review of the industrial situation as it was before the war and remarks upon the future outlook. A table of wages paid at the works is added as an appendix. The site of the factory is the Wiltshire town of Swindon. This stands at the extremity of the Upper Thames Valley, in the centre of a vast agricultural tract, and is seventy-seven miles from London and about forty from Bristol. Its population numbers approximately fifty thousand, all largely dependent upon the railway sheds for subsistence. The inhabit- ants generally are a heterogenous people. The majority of the works' officials, the clerical staff, journeymen, and the highly skilled workers have been imported from other industrial centres ; the labourers and the less highly trained have been recruited wholesale from the villages and hamlets surrounding the town. About twelve thousand men, including clerks, are normally employed at the factory. A knowledge of the com- position of the inhabitants of the town is important, otherwise one might be at a loss to account for the low rate of wages paid, the lack of spirited effort and efficient organisation among the workers, and other conditions peculiar to the place. The book was never intended to be an expression of patriotism or unpatriotism, for it was written before the commencement of the European conflict. It consequently has nothing directly to do with the war, nor with the manufacture of munitions, any more than it incidentally discovers the nature of the toils, exertions, and sacrifices demanded of those who must slave at furnace, miU, steam-hammer, anvil, and lathe pro- ducing suppHes for our armies and for those of our Allies in the field, it is not a treatise on economics, X LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY for I have never studied the science. If I had set out with the intention of theoretically slaughtering every official responsible for the administration of the factory I should have failed signally. I never contemplated such a course. Instead I wished to write out my own experiences and observations simply, and from my own point of view, mistaken or otherwise, without fear or favour to any. I have my faiUngs and pre- judices. What they are is very well known to me, and I have no intention of disavowing them. Whoever disagrees with me is fully entitled to his opinion. I shall not question his judgment, though I shall not easily surrender my own. I am not anxious to quarrel with any man ; at the same time I am not disposed to be fettered, smothered, gagged or silenced, to cower and tremble, or to shrink from uttering what I beheve to be the truth in deference to the most formidable despot living. A. W. 24ih July 19 15. A portion of Chapter XIII. has appeared in the English Review. My thanks are due to the Editor for his courteous permission to reproduce it in the volume. CONTENTS CHAPTER I PAGE LABOUR UNREST ........ I CHAPTER II THE STAMPING SHOP — GENERAL ENVIRONMENT — THE " GOALIES " THE ROLLING MILLS PUDDLING AND SHINGLING ACCIDENTS AT THE ROLLS THE SCRAP WAGGONS — WASTE ...... 9 CHAPTER III THE SHUNTERS WATCHMEN — DETECTING A THIEF FIRES — CARRIAGE FINISHERS PAINTERS WASHERS-DOWN CUSHION -BEATERS CHANGES AND INNOVATIONS DEPARTMENTAL RELATIONS ..... 25 CHAPTER IV THE OLD CANAL THE ASH-WHEELERS THE BRICKLAYERS RIVAL FOREMEN THE ROAD-WAGGON BUILDERS THE WHEEL SHED — BOY TURNERS — THE RUBBISH HEAP .....•••• 44 CHAPTER V "THE FIELD" " CUTTING-DOWN " — THE FLYING DUTCH- MAN THE FRAME SHED — PROMOTION RIVET BOYS — THE OVERSEER ....••• 63 CHAPTER VI THE SMITHY — THE SMITH BUILDING THE FIRE GALLERY- MEN APPRENTICES THE OLDEST HAND — DEATH OF A SMITH— THE SMITH'S ATTITUDE TO HIS MATES — HIS GREAT GOOD-NATURE — THE SMITHS' FOREMAN . 83 Xt Jdi LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY CHAPTER VII PAGE FITTERS THE STEAM-HAMMER SHED FORGEMEN THEIR CHARACTERISTICS BOILERMAKERS THE FOUNDRY THE BLAST FURNACE — MOULDERS .... lOO CHAPTER VIII GETTING TO WORK THE AWAKENING IN THE COUNTRY STEALING A RIDE THE TOWN STIR THE ARMY OF WORKMEN " CHECKING " EARLY COMERS CLERKS AND DRAUGHTSMEN FEATURES OF THE STAFF . I20 CHAPTER IX FIRST OPERATIONS IN THE SHED — THE EARLY DIN — ITS EFFECT ON THE WORKMEN CHARGING THE HEATS THE OIL FURNACE THE " AJAX " HARRY AND SAMMY THE " STRAPPIE " HYDRAULIC POWER WHEEL-BURSTING ....... I36 CHAPTER X STAMPING — THE DROP-HAMMER STAFF — ALGY AND CECIL — PAUL AND " PUMP " — " SMAMER " — BOILERS — A NEAR SHAVE ......... 153 CHAPTER XI FORGING AND SMITHING — HYDRAULIC OPERATIONS — " BALTIMORE " " BLACK SAM " " STRAWBERRY " AND GUSTAVUS THE " FIRE KING " " TUBBY " BOLAND — PINNELL OF THE YANKEE PLANT . . 169 CHAPTER XII FIRST QUARTER AT THE FORGE ..... 187 CHAPTER XIII THE NIGHT SHIFT — ARRIVAL IN THE SHED — " FOLLOW- ING THE TOOL " — THE FORGEMAN's HASTE AND BUSTLE LIGHT AND SHADE SUPPER-TIME CLATTER AND CLANG MIDNIGHT WEARINESS THE RELEASE HOME TO REST ....... 306 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY xiii CHAPTER XIV PAGE INFERIORITY OF WORK MADE BY THE NIGHT SHIFT ALTER- ING THE GAUGES — THE "BLACK LIST" "DOUBLE STOPPAGE CHARLIE " " JIMMY USELESS " THE HAUNTED FORGE AND COKE HEAP THE OLD VALET THE CHECKER AND STOREKEEPER .... 225 CHAPTER XV SICKNESS AND ACCIDENTS THE FACTORY YEAR HOLI- DAYS " TRIP " MOODS AND FEELINGS PAY-DAY^ LOSING A QUARTER GETTING MARRIED . . . 24I CHAPTER XVI COLD AND HEAT — MEALS FAT AND LEAN WORKMEN WAYS AND MEANS PRANKS ALL FOOLS' DAY NEW year's EVE ........ 258 CHAPTER XVII GETTING A START THE NEW HAND TOWN AND COUNTRY WORKMEN PROMOTION — DISCHARGING HANDS LANGUAGE OF THE SHED EDUCATION THE EDUCATED MAN NOT WANTED GREASING THE FORGE . . 274 CHAPTER XVIII SHORT TIME AND OVERTIME " BACK TO THE LANd" THE TOWN INFLUENCE CHANGES AT THE WORKS GRIEVANCES THE POSITION OF LABOUR ILLS AND REMEDIES — THE FUTURE OUTLOOK .... 292 APPENDIX TABLE OF WAGES PAID AT THE WORKS .... 309 Index . . . . . . . . . .311 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY CHAPTER I LABOUR UNREST Someone once asked the Greek Thales how he might best bear misfortune and he replied — "By seeing your enemy in a worse condition than yourself." He would have been as near the truth if he had said "friend" instead of " enemy." Everyone appears to desire to see every other one worse off than himself. He is not content with doing well ; he must do better, and if his success happens to be at the expense of one less fortunate he will be the more highly gratified. This lust of dominion and possession dates from the very foundation of human society. It is a feature of bar- barism, and one that the wisest teaching and the most civilising influences at work in the world have failed to remove or even very materially to modify. The idea behind the Sic vos non vobis of Virgil has always been uppermost in the minds of the powerful. This it was that doomed the captives of the Greeks and Romans to a hfe of wretchedness and misery in the mines. This was responsible for the subjugation of the English peasants, and their reduction to the order of serfs in feudal times. And this is what would en- slave the labouring classes in mine, field, and factory to-day. It must not be permitted. There is a way 2 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY to defeat it. That is by law. Not a law made by the depredators but by the workers themselves. They have the means at their disposal. If they would sum- mon up the courage to make use of them they might shatter the power of the capitahst at a stroke and free themselves from his domination for ever. A principal cause of trouble everywhere between the employer and the employed is the lack of recognition of the worker. I mean this in its broadest sense. I do not mean merely that great and powerful combina- tions do not want to recognise Trade Unions. We aU know that. It is a part of their policy and is dictated by pride and the spirit of intolerance. But they make a much more serious and fatal mistake. They refuse to recognise a man. All kinds of employers are guilty of this. The mineowner, the trading syndicate, the railway or steamship company, municipal authorities, the large and smaU manufacturer, the farmer and shop- keeper are equally to blame. If thej^ would recognise the man they might be led to a consideration of his legitimate needs. They must first admit him to be equall}^ a member of the human family and then recog- nise that, as such, he has claims as righteous and sacred as they. That is where the representative' of capital invariably fails. He ^vill not admit that the one under his authority has any rights of his own. To him the worker is as much a slave as ever he was, only he is conscious that his treatment of him must be subject to the Umitations imposed by the modern laws of the land. And as he flouts the individual so he contemns the collective organisations of the men. He is deter- mined not to recognise them. He considers tliis to be a proof of his strength. In reality it is a badge of his weakness. Sooner or later it will prove his undoing. I wiU give an illustration. Several years ago, work- LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 3 ing in the same shed as myself, was a grey-headed furnaceman. He was not an old man ; he could have been no more than fifty. One day he met with a serious accident. While attending to his furnace, in a stoop- ing position, someone in passing accidentally pushed him. This caused him to lose his balance and he slipped on the plate and fell head-first into a boshful of boiling water underneath the fire hole. His head and shoulders were severely scalded, and he was absent on the sick list for two months. When he came in again he was not allowed to resume work at the furnace but was put wheeling out ashes from the smiths' fires. To my steam-hammer an oil furnace had recently been attached and several managers came daily to experiment with it. One morning, while they were present, the ex-furnace- man came to wheel away the debris. Then a manager turned to me and said — " Who's that ? What's he doing here ? " I explained who the man was and what he was doing. " Pooh! What's the good of that thing! He ought to be shifted outside," replied he. In a short while afterwards the furnaceman was dis- charged. There is something even worse than this and much more serious in effect. That is a result of too great recognition. I am referring to the common fault of interfering with and penalising men of superior mental and intellectual powers. There is even a certain ad- vantage in a man's ability to escape attention. Especi- ally if he is of a courageous turn of mind, has views and ideas of his own, and is able to influence others. He will live the more easy for it. Left to himself he can work away quietly, informing the minds and leavening the opinions of those round about him. If he can escape recognition. But he cannot. He is soon dis- 4 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY covered, gagged, smothered, or got rid of. The safest way to strengthen a flame is to fan it. And if you want to intensify a man's dissatisfaction with a thing attempt to prevent him by force from giving expres- sion to it. That is a sure means of provocation and will bear fruit a hundredfold. We hear a great deal about the " discontent " of the workers, and a degree of censure and reproach is usually conveyed with the expression. It is not half general enough. The average working man is too content. He is often lazily apathetic. Is the mineowner, the manufacturer, or the railway magnate content ? Of course he is not. Strength is in action. When I hear of a man's being satisfied I know that he is done for. He might as well be dead. I wish the workers were more discontented, though I should in every case like to see their discontent rationally expressed and aU their efforts intelligently directed. They waste a fearful amount of time and energy through irresolution and uncertainty of objective. The selfishness, cruelty, and arrogance of the capitalist and his agents force the workers into rebellion. The swaggering pomposity and fantastic ceremony of officials fill them \^dth deserving contempt. Their impudence is amazing. I have known a foreman of the shed to attack a man by reason of the decent clothes he had on and forbid him to wear a bowler hat. Not only in the workshop but even at home in his private life and deal- ings he is under the eye of his employer. His liberty is t37rannically restricted. In the town he is not allowed to supplement his earnings by any activity except such as has the favour of the works' officials. He must not keep a coffee-shop or an inn, or be engaged in any trading whatever. He may not even sell apples or gooseberries. And if he happens to be the spokesman LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 5 of a labourers' union or to be connected with any other independent organisation, woe betide him ! The older established association — such as that of the engineers — is not interfered with. It is the unprotected unskilled workman that must chiefly be terrorised and subjugated. The worker is everywhere exploited. The speeding- up of late years has been general and insistent. New machinery is continually being installed in the sheds. This is driven at a high rate and the workman must keep pace with it. The toil in many cases is painfully exacting. There may be a less amount of violent physical exertion required here and there, though much more concentration of mind and attention wiU be needed. The output, in some instances, has been in- creased tenfold. I am not exaggerating when I say that the actual exertions of the workman have often been doubled or trebled, yet he receives scarcely any- thing more in wages. In some cases he does not receive as much. He may have obtained a couple of shillings more in day wages and at the same time have lost double the amount in piecework balance. Occasion- ally, when the foreman of the shed has mercilessly cut a man's prices, he offers him a sop in the shape of a rise of one or two shilhngs. On the hammers under my charge during the last ten years the day wages of assistants — owing to their being retained on the job up to a greater age — had doubled^ and the piecework prices had been cut by one half. As a result the gang lost about £80 in a year. A mate of mine, whose prices had been cut to the lowest fraction, though offered a rise, steadily refused it on the ground that he would be worse off than before. Though slaving from morning till night he could not earn his percentage of profit. In many cases where the workman was formerly allowed to earn a profit of 33 per cent, on his day wages he is now 6 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY restricted to 25 per cent., and the prices have been correspondingly reduced. Even now the foreman is not satisfied. He will still contrive to keep the percentage earned below the official figure in order to ingratiate himself with the managers and to give them the im- pression that he is still engaged in paring the prices. At the same time, a marvellous lack of real initiative is discovered by the factory staff. Things that have been so are so, and if any sharp and enterprising work- man sees the possibility of improvement anywhere and makes a suggestion he is soundly snubbed for his pains. In their particular anxiety to exact the last ounce from the workman in the matter of labour the managers overlook multitudes of important details connected with their own administration, but which the workman sees as plainly as he does the nose on his face. They often spend pounds to effect the saving of a few pence. They lavish vast sums on experiments that the most ordinary man perceives have no possible chance of being successful, or even useful if they should succeed. Men's opinions upon a point are rarely soUcited ; if offered, they are behttled and rejected. Where an opinion is asked for it is usually intended as a bait for a trap , the answer is carefully recorded and afterwards used to prove something to the other's disadvantage. But those ideas which are most valuable, provided they are not complex and the simple-minded official can readily grasp them — which is not always the case — he secretly cherishes and stealthily develops and after- wards parades them to his superior with swaggering pride as his own inventions. It is thus Mr So-and-so becomes a smart man in the eyes of the firm, while, as a matter of fact, he is a perfect blockhead and an ignor- amus. Meanwhile, the very workman whose idea has been purloined and exploited is treated as a danger by LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 7 the foreman ; henceforth he must be watched and kept well in subjection. The cowardly overseer sees in him a possible rival, and is fearful for his own credit. This is one of the worst ills of the manufacturing life, and has crushed many a brave, good spirit, and smothered many a rising genius. The disadvantage is twofold. There is a loss to manufacture in not being assisted with new and bright ideas, and another to the individual, who is not only deprived of the fruits of his inventive faculty but is systematically punished for the possession of an original mind. In a word, officialism at the works is continually straining at the gnat and swallowing the camel. What means are to be adopted in order to do away with the anomaly ? One of the first things to do would be to recognise the individual. We want a better understanding and a new feehng altogether. The worker does not need a profusion of sentiment ; he claims justice. He is wilHng to give and take. He knows that enormous profits are made out of his efforts and it is but natural that he should demand to receive a fair amount of remuneration and equitable conditions. My companion of the next steam-hammer, by means of a new process, in one week saved the railway company £20 in the execution of a single order. He had to work doubly hard to do it but he received not a penny extra himself. The piecework system as it stands is grossly unfair. All the profits accrue to one side and when the worker demands what is, after all, an insignificant participation in them he is described as being unreason- able and discontented. Where day wages have risen all round on piecework jobs the prices should be increased in proportion, otherwise the workman is simply paying himself for his additional efforts out of his own pocket. Better wages and shorter hours are desired in every 8 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY sphere of labour and especially in factories. The worker is not greatly concerned as to whether he is employed by the State or by a syndicate as long as he obtains justice. It is no more trouble for ParUament to formu- late a law for a private concern than for a Government department. Forty-eight hours a week is long enough for any man to work. I would have the factory week completed in five turns. There is no need of the half- day Saturdays. It is a waste of time. It is expensive for the employers and unprofitable for the men. They can neither work nor play. If forty-eight hours were divided out into five turns the expense of steaming for the half-turn on Saturday would be saved. The amount of work produced would not fall very far below that made at present, and the men would be better satisfied. They would at least be able to have a clear rest and come to work fresh and fit on the Monday. I would even go further and suggest forty-five hours — that is, five turns of nine hours each — as a working week for factories in the future. This is not so im- possible nor yet as unreasonable as it may appear. The proposal will doubtless strike some as being amaz- ing. Nevertheless, I recommend it to them for their leisurely consideration. By aiming high we shall hit something. But there are obstacles to remove and difficulties to overcome. CHAPTER II THE STAMPING SHOP — GENERAL ENVIRONMENT — ^THE " GOALIES " — THE ROLLING MILLS — PUDDLING AND SHINGLING — ACCIDENTS AT THE ROLLS — THE SCRAP WAGGONS — WASTE The Stamping Shop is square, or nearly so, each lateral corresponding to a cardinal point of the compass — north, south, east, and west, the whole comprising about an acre and a quarter. That is not an extensive build- ing for a railway manufactory. There are some shops with an area of not less than five, six, and even seven acres — a prodigious size ! They are used for purposes of construction, for carriages, waggons, locomotives, and also for repairs. The premises used for purely manufacturing purposes, such as those I am now speak- ing of, are generally much smaller in extent. The workshop is modern in structure and has not stood for more than fifteen years. Before that time the work proceeded on a much smaller scale, and was carried on in a shed built almost entirely of wood and corrugated iron — a dark, wretched place, without Ught or ventilation, save for the broken windows and rents in the low, depressed roof. With the development of the industry and general expansion of trade this became altogether inadequate to cope with the requirements of the other sheds, and a move had to be made to larger and more commodious premises. Thereupon a site was chosen and a new shop erected about a quarter of a mile distant. The walls of this are of brick, built 8 10 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY with " piers " and " panels," thirty feet high, soHd, massive, and substantial, with no pretence to show of any kind. The roof is constructed in bays running north and south, according to the disposition of the long walls, and presents a serrated appearance, like the teeth of a huge saw. Of these bays the slopes towards sunrise are filled in with stout panes of glass ; the opposite sides are of strong boards covered with slates, the whole supported by massive sectional principals and a network of stout iron girders. The roof is studded with hundreds of wooden ventil- ators intended to carry off the smoke and fumes from the forges. Above them tower numerous furnace stacks and chimneys from the boilers, with the exhaust pipes of the engines and steam-hammers. Towards summer, when the days lengthen and the sun pours down inter- minable volumes of light and heat from a cloudless sky, or when the air without is charged with electricity and the thunder bellows and rolls over the hills and downs to the south, and the forked lightning flashes reveal every corner of the dark smithy so that the heat becomes almost unbearable, a large quantity of the glass is re- moved to aid ventilation ; the heat, assisted by the ground current, rises and escapes through the roof. But when the rain comes and the heavy showers, driven at an angle by the wind, beat furiously through upon the half-naked workmen beneath, even this is not an unmixed blessing. Or when the sun shoots his hot arrows down through the openings upon the toilers at the steam-hammers and forges, as he always does twice during the morning — once before breakfast, and again at about eleven o'clock — it is productive of increased discomfort ; the sweat flows faster and the work flags. This does not last long, however. Southward goes the sun, and shade succeeds. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY ii The eastern and western ends of the shed are ahnost half taken up with large sliding doors, that reach as high as to the roof. These rest on wheels which are superimposed upon iron rails, so that a child might push them backwards and forwards. Through several of the doors rails are laid to permit of engines and waggons entering with loads of material — iron and steel for the furnaces — and also for conveying away the manufactures. A narrow bogie line runs round the shed and is used for transferring materials from one part to another and to the various hydraulic presses and forges. Here and there are fixed small turn-tables to enable the bogies to negotiate the angles and move from track to track. Southward the shed faces a yard of about ten acres in extent. This is bounded on every side by other workshops and premises, all built of the same dingy materials — brick, slate, and iron — blackened with smoke, dust, and steam, surmounted with tall cliimneys, in- numerable ventilators, and poles for the telephone wires, which effectually block out all perspective. To view it from the interior is like looking around the inner walls of a fortress. There is no escape for the eye ; nothing but bricks and mortar, iron and steel, smoke and steam arising. It is ugly ; and the sense of confine- ment within the prison-like walls of the factory renders it still more dismal to those who have any thought of the hills and fields beyond. Only in summer does it assume a brighter aspect. Then the sun scalds down on the network of rails and ashen ground with deadly intensity ; the atmosphere quivers and trembles ; the fine dust burns under your feet, and the steel tracks glitter under the blinding rays. The clouds of dazzling steam from the engines are no longer visible — the air being too hot to admit of condensation — and the black 12 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY smoke from the furnaces and boilers hangs in the air, Ufeless and motionless, like a pall, for hours and hours together. But when the summer is over, when the majesty of July and August is past and gone and golden September gives place to rainy October, or, most of all, when dull, gloomy November covers the skies with its impenetrable veil of drab cloud and mist day after day and week after week, with scarcely an hour of sunshine, the utter dis- malness and ugliness of the place are appalling. Then there is not a vestige of colour. The sky, roofs, walls, the engines moving to and fro, the rolling stock, the stacks of plates and ingots of iron and steel, the sleepers for the rails, the ground beneath — everything is dark, sombre, and repeUant. Not a glint upon the steel hues ! Not a refraction of hght from the slates on the roof! Everything is dingy, dirty, and drab. And drab is the mind of the toiler all this time, drab as the skies above and the walls beneath. Doomed to the confine- ment from which there is no escape, he accepts the con- dition and is swallowed up in his environment. There is one point, and only one, a few paces west of the shed, from which an inspiriting view may be had. There, on a fine day, from between two towering walls, in the little distance, blue almost as the sky and yet distinct and well-defined, may be seen a great part of Liddington HiU, crowned with the castelhim, the scene of many a lively contest in prehistoric days, and the holy of holies of Richard Jefferies, who spent days and nights there trying to fathom the supreme mystery that has baffled so many great and ardent souls. When the sky is clear and the air free from mist and haze — especi- ally as it appears sometimes in the summer months, under a southern wind, or before or after rain — so dis- tinct does the sloping line of the hill show, with its LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 13 broad front towards you, that you may even perceive the common features and details of it. Then you may plainly view the disposition of the stone walls running from top to base, with the white chalk-pits gleaming like snow in the distance, and tell the outer wall of the entrenchment. In short, you might imagine yourself to be standing within the mound and looking out over the magnificent valley — north, east, and west ; towards Bristol, over Cirencester, and beyond Witney and Oxford. But in the winter even this is denied. Then the dark lowering clouds sweep along the downs and shut them out of view, or grey mist fills the intervening valley, or the rain, falling in torrents or driving in the furious south-west gale, hides it completely ; or if it is at all visible under the cold sky, it seems so far removed and the distance so intensified as to lose all resemblance to a liill and to look hke a dim blue cloud faintly seen on the horizon, and which is no more than a suggestion, a shape phantasmal. Everywhere about the yard is evidence of industry and activity ; there all is suggestive of toil, labour, and power. On the right, stretching for a quarter of a mile, are hundreds upon hundreds of wheels, tyres, and axles for carriages and waggons, in every phase and degree of fitness ; some fresh from the rolling mills — from Sheftield and Scotland — some turned and fitted in the lathe, huge jointless tyres newly unladen waiting to take their turn in the operation of fitting them to the wheels, and others finished, wheels, tyres, and axle compact, dipped in tar — except the journals — to prevent them from rusting, and all ready to be placed under- neath the waggons. There are wheels of solid steel, wheels with spokes, and wheels of oak, teak, and even of paper composition, of many sorts and sizes, for smooth-running carriages. One would think there were 14 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY enough of them to stock the whole railway system, but a few weeks of steady consumption would thin them down, and the yard would soon be bare and empty if fresh consignments were not every day arriving. In front of the wheels, in rows and lines, are the huge cast-iron blocks and dies used for punching and pressing by the hydraulic machines. They are of all shapes and dimensions^ puzzhng to the eye of the stranger, but easily identified by those who are accustomed to use them, and who have been acquainted with them perhaps from boyhood. There are sets for " jogghng " and " up-setting," and others for shaping and levelling. In the midst of them stands a stout, three-legged machine called a " sheer legs." To this is attached strong pulley blocks for lifting the sets from the ground — many of them weigh considerably more than a ton ; afterwards a stout bogie is run underneath and the blocks are lowered and so carried off to the field of operations. Many an accident has happened in the conveyance of blocks and dies to and from their destination ; many a bruised foot or broken limb has resulted from a lack of carefulness and attention on the part of the workmen. The slightest disregard may lead to injury. The bogie may shp, or the block slide, and woe be to the individual who chances to be in the way of the falling mass. Un- assuming, and even valueless as this collection of dies may appear to the uninitiated, it is reaUy worth a huge sum, for manufacturing tools are of a very expensive character. Close on the left is a long line of waggons laden with coal fresh from the Welsh pits, and near by is a large bunk into which it is emptied to allow of the speedy return of the vehicles — an important item in railway administration. Here the dark and grimy coal heavers, with faces as black as the mineral they are handhng, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 15 grunt and sweat, their eyes obtaining peculiar promin- ence from being inset in a ground of ebony, and their teeth gHstening pearly white through the blackened lips, appearing the more remarkable if they should smile at you. For even they will brighten up sometimes. Hard and laborious as their toil is, they will now and then relax into pleasantry and relieve the tedium of work with a snatch of song and hilarity. The coalies are not highly paid. Their day wages are eighteen shillings or a pound a week, but, as all the work of the shed is done at the piece rate^ they are enabled to earn a few shillings above that sum. The dullest men — those whose misfortune it is to have missed the right education, or those who are naturally slow and awkward — are usually selected for coal- heaving. Very often, however, shrewd and capable, smart and intelligent men, who might be more profit- ably employed than in shovelling coal from the truck to the bunk or wheel-barrow, are put at the task. Per- haps this is the result of carelessness on the part of the overseer, or it may be dearth of hands, and very likely it is intentional. The man is out of favour and has been clapped there as a punishment. Near the coal station stand piles upon piles of iron and steel, in plates, bars, and ingots, some six and some ten feet high, in large square stacks, and the long bars disposed between uprights to keep them together and separate those of different lengths and sizes. The chief part of this comes in from " abroad," that is, from the midlands and the north of England, for very little iron ore is now manufactured on the premises. A small amount of pig iron is imported and worked up at the local rolling mills, but the greater part of the metal is purchased of the big firms and dealers away from the town. i6 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY The chief occupation of the factory roUing mills now is to receive the iron scrap from the various workshops, such as clippings, shearings, punchings, and drillings, with all the old iron proceeding from the breaking up of worn-out engines and vehicles. This is first of all reduced to convenient shape and then set up in " piles " on thin pieces of wood to enable of its being placed in the furnace on the peels used for the purpose. In the making of piles the flat pieces of metal are placed around the outside, leaving a hollow within, which is filled up with punchings and drillings, old rivets, nuts, bolts, and other similar scrap. The pile is set in the furnace and heated, when it coalesces into a mass ; afterwards it is brought out to the heavy steam-hammer and beaten into rough bars or slabs, several feet in length. This process is called " shingling." When the iron has become fairly soUd and of convenient length, the bars, still spluttering and fizzing — for they have not been under the hammer for more than two or three minutes — are hurried off to the rolls. There they are received by the men in charge, who stand stripped to the waist, with tongs in hand, and dexter- ously guide the rough ingots into the ponderous rollers that revolve at speeds suited to the size and weight of the bars, and always with a loud clanking noise. As soon as the bar is rolled through — already drawn out to two or three times its original length — the roUs stop and instantly revolve in the other direction. The bar is again guided into the channel of the rollers and emerges on the other side, longer and smoother. This process is continued four or five times until the bars are finished ; then other small roUers in the floor are set in motion and the bars travel along the ground to the steam saws, where they are cut up into the lengths required. There they are loaded on iron bogies and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 17 carried off, or rolled along as before to the weighing machines ; everything is paid for according to the weight of the finished material. Punchings and drillings are also treated by the pro- cess known as " puddling." In this case, the furnaces will have a cavity in the floor, into which the small scrap material is shovelled or tipped. The door is now made fast and the heat applied, which must not be too fierce, however, or the whole mass would soon be burned and spoiled. When the drillings and chip- pings have cohered, the puddler, by an aperture through the iron door, inserts a steel bar, curved at the end, and prises the lump and turns it over and over. This is called " balling up." By and by, when the iron is thoroughly heated and fairly consistent, it is brought to the " shingler," who soon gives it shape and solidity. At the first few blows a terrific shower of sparks shoots around, which travel for a great distance, burning ever3^hing they meet. To protect themselves against this the shinglers wear heavy iron jackboots, reaching above the knees, with an iron veil over their eyes and faces. As the steam-hammer block upon which the pounding is done is only a few inches above the floor level and the sparks and splinters fly out with the pre- cision of shot from a gun barrel, the danger is confined to a space within two feet of the floor. When the heats come from the puddling furnaces they look soft and spongy and soon become dull on the outer parts, so that a stranger might think them not sufficiently hot to beat up, but after the first hght blow or two he will find himself mistaken. First of all the huge hammer — able to strike a blow equal to a hundred tons pressure — is merely allowed to squeeze the mass, without beating it. Then it rises gently and travels up and down, scarcely touching the metal. 6 i8 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY Gradually the blows fall harder and harder until the piece is fully consistent ; then it is rapidly drawn away to the rolls. Very rarely are the hammers required to expend their full powers upon the melting slabs, unless they happen to be of steel, which is very hard, even when whitehot. Then the blows fall terrific. The steam spouts, roars, and hisses ; the chains jingle and the ground under your feet shakes as though in an earthquake. When a better quality of iron is required the punch- ings, bolts, and rivets are placed in a large drum wluch is afterwards set in motion and continues to revolve for several hours. By this means all the rust, paint, and dirt are removed from the metal, and when it is taken from the cylinder it shines like silver. Special regard is had for this in the furnaces. Care is taken to save it from over-heating and waste, and when it finally emerges from the rolls it is set apart by itself and labelled for its superior quality. Various prices, ranging from 15s. to 50s. a ton, are paid for shinghng and forging. These depend upon the weight of the piece and the degree of finish required. The shingler is clever and expert, and he is not highly paid at the works, considering his usefulness, for he is a great manufacturer. Thousands of tons of metal must pass through his hands in the course of a year, and the work is very hot and laborious. By the age of fifty the shinglers and forgemen are usually worn out and superseded at the forge. When they can no longer perform their duties at the steam-hammer they are removed from the manufacturing circle and presented with a broom, shovel, and wheel-barrow. Their wages are cut down to that of a common labourer, and thus they spend their few remaining years of service. At an early age they drop off altogether, and their places are LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 19 filled by others who have gone through the same experience. The running of the iron from the furnace to the steam- hammer and back again to the rolls is chiefly performed by boys and young men. The majority of these come from the villages round about, for the town lads, as a rule, are much too wideawake for the business ; the work is too hard for them. Living close to the factory they know by report which shops to avoid, and if, by misadventure, they happen to get a start in such a place they are very quickly out of it. Accordingly the more laborious work usually falls upon those who dwell wdthout the town. It is the same with the men. Those who Hve in the borough nearly always obtain the easier berths ; John and George do the heavy hfting and heaving. Accidents are frequent at the rolling mills. Burns are of common occurrence, and they are sometimes very serious and occasionally fatal. Great care is requisite in moving about amid so much fire and heated material, for everything — the floors, principals, rollers, the bogie handles, tools and all — is very hot. Some of the carrying is done with a kind of wheel-barrow that requires a special balance. The least obstruction will upset it, and a little awkwardness on the part of the workman is sufficient to bring the weltering burden down to the ground. Not long ago, as a youth was drawing a large, whitehot pile from the furnace to the steam-hammer, he slipped on the iron floor and fell at full length on his back upon the ground. As he fell the bogie in- clined forward and the huge pile shd down and lodged on his stomach, inflicting frightful injuries. He was quickly rescued from his tortuous position, but there was no hope of recovery from such an accident, and he died a day or two afterwards. He, too, was of the neighbouring village. 20 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY You can always tell these young men of the steam- hammer or rolling mills, whenever you meet them. They are usually lank and thin and their faces are ghastly white. Their nostrils are distended ; black and blue rings encircle their eyes Their gait is careless and shuffling, and their dress, on a holiday, is a curious mixture of the rural and urban styles. On week-days they are as black as sweeps, and the blacker they are the better, in their opinion, for they take pride in parading the badge of their profession and are not ashamed of it as are their workmates who dwell in the town. I have said that formerly much more iron was manu- factured on the premises than is the case at this time. Then the steam-hammer shed, in which nothing but forging is done, was a flourishing place. All the wheels for the engines and waggons, together with piston rods, driving gear, axles, and cranks, were made there. These are obtained elsewhere now, some in England and Scotland, and other parts from abroad. Steel has superseded iron in a great degree, too, being harder, tougher, stronger and cheaper. The combined skill of the chemist and scientist has simplified the manufacture of it, and it is to be obtained in large quantities. But steel rusts much more quickly than iron, and does not last nearly as long in exposed positions on the vehicles. Formerly all wheels were made of wrought iron and a great part of the work was done by hand. First of all the sections were made under the steam-hammer, in "T " pieces and boss ends, and shut in the middle. These were for the spokes. Then the " T " ends were in- curved and joined together all round till the rim of the wheel was finished. After that, there remained to form the centre and make the " boss " sohd and com- pact. As the boss sections were made to fit together in the middle, they only required to be heated and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 21 welded. Accordingly they were placed on an open forge, built round with damp coal-dust to contain and concentrate the heat, the boss being exactly over the centre of the fire. Another forge, close at hand, con- tained a large round iron washer, similarly placed, to which was attached an iron bar for lifting it from the fire. Both heats were prepared simultaneously. Then the wheel, lifted by a crane, was quickly removed from the forge, turned upside down and placed on the steam- hammer block. The washer was brought out at once and clapped on smartly^ and down came the heavy monkey. Half-a-dozen blows were sufficient to make the weld. Then it was removed from the steam- hammer and laid on an iron table and the smiths set about it with their tools to finish it off, three or four men striking alternately on one " flatter " or " fuller," \vith perfect rhythm and precision, the chief smith directing operations and working with the rest. Those were the palmy days for the smithy. Wages were high and the prices good, and the work made was solid and strong. Now all wheels are manufactured of cast steel and with Uttle hand labour. The molten metal is simply poured into moulds, allowed to cool and afterwards annealed in special furnaces. One can easily imagine the immense amount of labour saved in the operation, though the wheels are not as elastic and durable. Situated near the piles of new material are the scrap bunks. These are old waggons that have served their turn on the railway and, instead of being broken up, have been lifted bodily from the sets of wheels and de- posited on the ground as receptacles for the large quantities of scrap made in the workshop. What miles these old waggons have gone ! What storm and stress they have endured ! What burdens they have borne ! 22 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY East and west, north and south, over hills and bridges, through valleys, past miles upon miles of cornfields and meadows, green and gold, red and brown by turn, in rain and snow, winter frost and summer sunshine, by day and night, year after year together. These waggons, if they could speak, would tell you they have visited every station and town on the system. They have crossed the Thames, the Severn, the Kennet, the Upper and Lower Avon, the Wye, the Dee, the Towy, the Parrot and the Tamar, times out of number. They have gone through dark tunnels, over dizzy via- ducts, past cathedral cities and quaint old market- towns, villages, and hamlets, sleeping and waking, at all hours of the day and night, drawn on, and on, and on by the tireless iron steeds, piled up with all sorts of goods and commodities for the use of man — stones to build him houses, iron to strengthen them, corn to feed him and his family, and materials to clothe them. They would tell you of many lovely woods and forests through which they have journeyed, and seaside towns, with the strong blue ocean in view, sometimes running perilously near the beach, at others hidden in deep cuttings, where the banks are blue with violets, and yellow with the pale gold of the cowslip, followed by the endless array of the ox-eyes, toadflax, and sweet wild mignonette. And they would teU j'ou of long, dark, winter nights, when the tempest howled madly through the trees and bridges and sang shrilly in the telegraph wires ; when the rain fell in a deluge from the inky sky, or the sleet and snow drove in blinding clouds and was piled upon the weatherproof tarpaulins. Or again they would relate of running smoothly on summer nights under the pale southern moon, or when the stars glittered in the frosty heavens, or dense fog, so trouble- some and dangerous to the ever-watchful and valiant LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 23 old driver, shut everything out of view, signals and all, so that their very whereabouts were only known and identified by paying close attention to the loud, shot- Uke explosions of the detonators placed along the line by the fogmen. Now all these things are at an end. They have run their race, and grown old in the service. They have fulfilled their period of usefulness on the line and, like old veterans returned from the war, they have come back to their native town to end their days. Being fairly sound of constitution and having escaped the shocks of collision and accident, they were adjudged too solid to be broken up yet, so, as a last use, they were placed here to receive the punchings and trimmings from the shears and presses, and ingloriously waste away in their old age, exposed to all the inclemencies and caprices of the weather. The scrap, made daily, soon amounts to hundreds of tons. It is of all shapes and sizes. There is plate from an eighth of an inch to an inch and a half thick from the presses, ends and trimmings of rods and bars from the shears and steam-hammers, burs from the stamping plant and scrag ends from the forgings. In addition to this there are scores of tons of old iron and steel, brought from all over the system to be cut up at the hydraulic shears — sole-bars of waggons, stanchions and " diagonals," " T "-iron plates, and hundreds of old draw-bars and buffers. The iron and steel are carefuUy observed and kept separate and huge piles soon accumu- late, far more than the waggons can hold. The iron refuse is by and by passed on to the rolling mills, while the steel scrap awaits a purchaser. No attempt is made to utilise that on the premises. There are secrets in the manufacture of steel which are never betrayed to outsiders, and it would be a waste of time and money 24 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY for the local furnacemen and forgers to attempt to do anything with it. However carefully the furnaceman tends it in the fire he cannot get it to cohere well in the piles, and if it is at all over-heated it bursts and scatters in all directions, brittle and glassy, as soon as the steam- hammer touches it with a gentle blow. There is, at the same time, enormous waste in the matter of scrap iron and steel, which intelligent supervision would certainly lessen. Material that might economically be used in the workshop is indiscriminately passed out with the rubbish and sold away at a cheap rate — at a fraction of its real value. Tons of metal — good solid iron, often of the highest quality — which might be used for forging and stamping, are rejected and scrapped because it would take a trifle longer to handle. Other large scrap material might be slabbed and used without sending it to the mill, and thus large profits would accrue to the shed ; for the rolling mills people wiU only purchase, theoretically, at trade prices, that is, at about two pounds a ton for scrap iron. CHAPTER III THE SHUNTERS — WATCHMEN — DETECTING A THIEF — FIRES — CARRIAGE FINISHERS — PAINTERS — " WASHERS- DOWN " — CUSHION-BEATERS — CHANGES AND IN- NOVATIONS — DEPARTMENTAL RELATIONS A SHORT way off in the yard, in a small space clear of the confusing network of Hnes that cross and recross here and there, running in every direction and connect- ing the various workshops together, are two old railway coaches dispossessed of their wheels and lodged upon baulks of timber let into the ground. Like the old scrap waggons, they have had their day in active service, and, coming home in fairly good condition, though antiquated in style and useless for passenger traffic, have yet been found convenient as occasional store- houses and shelters. They are now used as cabins, one for the shunters, who conduct their operations round about, and the other for watchmen, and they are fitted with stoves for warming the men's food, and for drying their clothes in wet weather. The roofs and windows are intact, and some of the original seats still remain. These are of bare wood and are not padded and up- holstered in the comfortable and luxurious style now required and expected by the railway traveller. These old carriages are at this time very rarely met with and are nearly extinct. For years after they dis- appeared from the general traffic — superseded by more commodious and comfortable vehicles — the best of them were kept stored up in sheds and yards in out-of- 25 26 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY the-way places to await the time of trippers and ex- cursionists. Then they were regularly hauled out to accommodate the multitude. The windows were hastily wiped over and the interiors dusted out ; they were ready to receive the people. Goods engines of the old type were brought up to draw them along. The trippers squeezed themselves inside, and, with the shrieking of steam whistles and hooters and the playing of con- certinas and melodions, the trains started off and went jolting and jogging away to their destinations. At the end of the tripping season the coaches were again stored away in the yards and sidings, until they became too crazy and dangerous to run on the main line, when they were either utilised for storehouses and shelters, or broken up. The refuse wood from the destruction of old worn-out rolling stock is sawn up and used for lighting the fires in the furnaces and boilers, and is dis- tributed throughout the system. A large quantity is also sold to the workmen, who use it both for firing and for the construction of outhouses. The shunters of the yard are a hard-working body of men, and they are exposed to many dangers. The hours are long and they must cover many miles during the day by running up and down the lines. It is their duty to transfer the carriages and waggons from road to road and from one workshop to another, to dispose of the old ones brought in for repairs, to lead out the new, and distribute the various stores — iron and steel, coal, coke, and timber — at several points. Whatever the weather may be they must be up and doing, or the traffic in the yard would soon be in utter confusion. Rain or snow, cold or heat, sunshine or cloud, July glow or December fog and gloom are all one to them. The busy swarm of workmen comes and goes, the furnaces spout their dense black clouds of smoke into the heavens ; LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 27 the dazzling steam, shot out from the engines and steam-hammers, leaps up in an ascending pillar, the rapid wheels spin round in the roof or under the wall, and the endless toil goes on, all which must be catered for by the shunters. Great care must be taken to prevent the sidings from becoming blocked by crossing a wrong point. Where two or more engines are operating over a complex siding this ma}' easily be done, and a delay of several hours will be the result. If an inexperienced shunter, mis- taking the number of his points, shifts his waggons on to the wrong track and, not perceiving his error, at once proceeds to carry out several other manoeuvres, he may shut in the engines so completely and confusedly that he will want all his wits about him to extricate them again ; it will be hke a mathematical problem. Happily for the shunter's credit, this is not a common occurrence. Strong, healthy men are selected for the shunter's trade, to carry the pole and whistle. By working in the open air, exposed to all kinds of weather, they become hardy and seasoned and present a far different appearance from that of those who are shut up within the walls of the workshop, amid the smoke and fumes. Instead of becoming lean with the constant running to and fro, they seem to thrive on the exercise, and many of them assume substantial proportions. Their faces are bronzed with the sun and wind, and they are a picture of health — strong, stalwart, and of good physique. The shunters are not under as many restrictions as are the factory workers proper, i.e., those within the sheds. It is their privilege to smoke while on duty, or, at any rate, in the intervals on the premises, an indulgence which is strictly forbidden to all other employees. They remain always about the yard and never go 28 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY beyond the bounds prescribed for them, so that they really belong to the factory. The other cabin is used by the watchmen as an out- shelter — a kind of half-way refuge. Their headquarter is at the main entrance, where there are always one or two on duty to check the coming in and going out of the workmen, to keep out intruders and to prevent any from passing out before the regulation hour. They also act in the quality of police to protect the property of the railway company, patrol the shops and yards, and keep a sharp look-out for loiterers and any who should attempt to smoke or read a newspaper on the sly. Every workshop and building is provided with certain clock-like instruments called " tell-tales," which are fixed in manj^ corners and angles, and at frequent inter- vals along the high board fence that encloses the factory grounds. The watchman appointed for the round is furnished with a key that fits the instrument. It is his duty to visit each of these every hour, or every two hours, according to the time-table given him by his chief. When he comes to the tell-tale he inserts the key and, after turning it round, withdraws it. This leaves a record of his visit and certifies that he has gone his round regularly. At intervals, unknown to the watchman, the tell-tales are removed and privately examined, in order to see that everything is correct, and if there has been any neglect of duty the offender is sought out and punished. Occasionally it transpires that there has been wholesale tampering with the in- struments in order to escape going the rounds. The watchmen, Hke all others at the works, agreed for the time, finally come to loggerheads and play the tell- tale themselves. Someone or other informs of his mate, this one retaUates and the scheme is laid bare. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 29 Forthwith the whole staff of watchmen are summoned to appear before the works' manager, and are punished in various ways. Something new and strange is adopted ; the men's time and rounds are altered, and they patrol their beats the laughing-stock of the work- men whom it is their duty to observe and supervise. The watchmen, as a class, are surly and over-ofhcious. Perhaps they were chosen for some qualities they were thought to possess, fitting them for the duties expected of them ; they are not popular with the workmen. The fact of their being placed in a supervisory position and of being exempt from manual work induces them to have a higher opinion of themselves than the actual cir- cumstances warrant. They consider themselves above the average at the works and cultivate the pseudo-genteel, Wlien a new watchman is made it is noised abroad throughout the department ; his size, description, and all else that is known of him are passed around the sheds for the benefit of the masses. Developments are antici- pated and the results eagerly awaited. Elated at his promotion and great in his own conceit the newly initiated one, before he is well-known and identified by the workmen, slips to and fro in the sheds, eager for surprise captures. Immediately before the hooter sounds for the men's release at meal times he is to be found suddenly opening doors and popping on the scene. If any of the workmen should happen to have on their coats, or to have gathered near the door ready to rush out, they scatter like wood-pigeons when a hawk has darted in the midst of them. This forms the subject of a report to the shop foreman or to the manager. Dire threats as to the consequences of loitering are launched at the workmen ; a few youths are suspended and forced to take a rest, and so the matter is settled. The watchman, however, is not forgotten or forgiven 30 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY by the men. Some nickname or other is coined for him on the spot. Perhaps he is hooted for a sneak and teased in various ways, the boys especially enjojdng a joke at his expense. They set traps for him, and after racing about the yard and dodging between the waggons and coaches, suddenly decamp and make for the tunnels or entrances. Once a nickname becomes attached to a watchman it seldom leaves him. One has borne the title of " Long Bill " for a number of j^ears ; another is honoured with the appellation of " Powerful " ; this one is " Flat-foot," that is " Rubber-heel," and another has earned for himself the ridiculous title of " Chesty." Theft is sometimes practised by the workmen, though it is much more rarely committed now than it was formerly. Some of the schemes adopted for getting the stolen materials outside the works have been quite artistic, and others were ridiculously open and daring. Years ago loads of timber and other valuables were regularly smuggled out in the middle of the night, and especially on Saturday nights. They were piled upon big trucks and bogies and got past the entrances wdth the watchman's consent and connivance. Probably he received a bribe for his silence — a quart of ale at the club, or a share of the stolen goods. On at least one occasion a brazen-faced fellow wheeled out a new wheel-barrow, unchallenged, amid the crowd at a dinner- time and was never suspected. At other times wheel- barrows and other tools have mysteriously disappeared in the night, as though they had been swallowed up by an earthquake. They were quietly lifted over the fence and received into the neighbouring field and so got safely away. Sometimes a workman will spHt on his mate whom he knows to be in the habit of purloining things from the shed. Perhaps it is a little firewood or a few screws LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 31 or nails that were picked up in the yard. Going privately to the watchman he acquaints him of the fact, and at dinner-time, or night, a stand is made at the entrance, and the culprit seized and searched. This invariably means dismissal, however small the amount of the theft may be. Somehow or other, though, the informer is dis- covered and for ever afterwards he is branded as a sneak and shunned by his fellows. There is no forgive- ness for this kind of thing among the workmen. Honesty or not honesty, he is never tolerated but is looked upon with the utmost disgust and contempt. Occasionally, if you should stand at the entrance as the workmen are leaving, you might see an abject-look- ing individual, with drawn features, making his way painfully through the tunnel, Hmping, or dragging a leg behind him. The casual observer would jump to the conclusion that the man had met with an accident, or that he was naturally lame or a cripple. But very Hkely, if the truth were known, he has a staff of wood, or a rod of iron, four feet long, concealed in the leg of his trousers and reaching up to the breast, and that is what makes him walk with such great difficulty. Another plan is to bend a rod of iron in the shape of a hoop and so fix it around the waist, or to pack the contraband next to the skin, under the armpits and around the stomach. This very often leads to detection. The watchman on duty at the entrance has his suspicions aroused by the shape of the man. Accordingly he steps out, calls him aside and feels the part, and the culprit is discovered. It sometimes happens that a watchman gets on the track of an innocent workman and makes himself appear ridiculous, for he is sure to be noticed by the crowd and heartily jeered at for his interference. Not long ago a young workman, on his way out from the 32 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY shed one morning after night duty, was challenged and stopped and required to disclose the contents of his dinner-basket, which, to the watchman's eye, seemed unusually heavy. The young man, who was an en- thusiastic Christian, smilingly compUed and, opening his basket, took out a big Bible, and presented it to his challenger. That was more than the watchman had bargained for^ and he immediately shuffled off in con- siderable confusion. A few nights ago a surly watch- man stopped me and curtly demanded to know what I was carrying " in the parcel under my arm." It was merely my daily newspaper. It is not the rank and file alone that are guilty of taking things that do not belong to them. Some of the principals of the staff have been notoriously to blame in this respect, as is well-known at the works, though their misdeeds are invariably screened and condoned. If one of the managers has stolen materials worth hundreds of pounds he is reprimanded and allowed to continue at his post, or at most, he is asked to resign and is afterwards awarded a pension ; but if the work- man has purloined an article of a few pence in value he is dismissed and prosecuted. This is no general state- ment but a plain matter of fact. Further over the yard, towards one of the sheds that form the boundary on this side, stands a large water- closet, one of many about the factory, built to meet the requirements of about five hundred workmen. These buildings are of a uniform type and are disagree- able places, lacking in sanitary arrangements. There is not the shghtest approach to privacy of any kind, no consideration whatever for those who happen to be imbued with a sense of modesty or refinement of feeling. The convenience consists of a long double row of seats, situate back to back, partly divided by brick walls, the LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 33 whole constructed above a large pit that contains a foot of water which is changed once or twice a day. The seats themselves are merely an iron rail built upon brickwork, and there is no protection. Several times, I have known men to overbalance and faU into the pit. Everything is bold, daring, and unnatural. On entering, the naked persons of the men bitting may plainly be seen, and the stench is overpowering. The whole con- cern is gross and objectionable, filthy, disgusting, and degrading. No one that is chaste and modest could bear to expose himself, sitting there with no more decency than obtains among herds of cattle shut up in the winter pen. Consequently, there are many who, though hard pressed by the exigences of nature, never use the place. As a result they contract irregularities and complaints of the stomach that remain with them aU their lives, and that might easily prove fatal to them. Perhaps this barbarous relic of insanitation may in time be superseded by some system a little more moral and more compatible with human sensibility and refinement. Near this spot, in the open air, are stored hundreds of gallons of oil, spirits and other liquids of a highly in- flammable nature, used for mixing paints for the carriages and waggons, together with chemicals em- plo3'ed in the rapid cleansing of the exteriors of vehicles that come in for repairs and washing-down. The rules of the factory strictly forbid the storing of any of these liquids within the workshops and outhouses. This precaution is taken in order to prevent damage by fire in case of an outbreak and to render the flames more easy of control by the firemen. At every short distance there is a connection with the water-main and a length of hose always fit and ready for any emergency. The works has its own fire-engine — a powerful motor and pumps — and if by chance a call c 34 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY is made the men are speedily on the spot. Here and there around the sheds are deep pits, walled up and covered with cast-iron tops, to contain water for the fire-engines, for they cannot well draw clear off the main. To these pits, in the afternoon or evening, the engines and firemen occasionally come for practice. Immedi- ately the wells are filled from the main, the hose is coupled up, and a perfect deluge is rained over every- thing in the vicinity, as though a fire were really in progress. After half an hour's lusty exertion with the hose and the scaling of walls and roofs, the firemen stow their apparatus and the motor rushes off down the yard quickly out of sight. Though fires at the works are not of common occur- rence, there is now and then an outbreak, and sometimes one of serious dimensions. They are generally the result of great carelessness, or the want of ordinary attention on the part of a workman or official. Perhaps a naked light is left burning somewhere or other, or a portion of cotton-waste is smouldering away unobserved. The roof may become ignited through contact with the hot chimney ; and very often the cause of the out- break is not ascertained at all. In several cases in- cendiarism has been suggested as the cause of a fire, but, notwithstanding all the efforts of the works' de- tectives to fix the guilt, proof of the crime has never been brought home to any individual. When fires do happen they nearly always originate in the night. One reason of this is that, with so many workmen on the scene, during the day, the first sign of an outbreak would be immediately detected and dealt with before it could become dangerous. But at night it would develop rapidly and obtain a good hold on the premises before being discovered by the watchmen. \^^hen it is kno\vn in the works that a fire is raging LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 35 round about — if it should happen to be at night — the few workmen employed, without waiting for instructions from the overseers, throw down their tools and rush off to the scene of the accident. They are impelled to do this, in the first place, by the strong natural desire every man has to be of service in times of danger ; secondly, by reason of the intense excitement which the cry of " Fire ! " always produces in the most phlegmatic in- dividual, and, last of all — if either of the two causes before-named are wanting — by a natural and uncon- trollable curiosity and fascination for the smoke and flames. It is usually the first of these three causes that impels the workmen to throw down their tools and run to help the men with the fire-engines. At such times as these nothing is held sacred. Doors and windows are forced open or smashed in, bolts and bars are wrenched from their sockets, offices and storehouses are entered ; the most private recesses are made public. All thoughts of the midnight meal are set aside and there is no returning to the worksheds until morning brings a fresh supply of hands accompanied by the day officials. Not many years ago the station buildings took fire, shortly after midnight, and most of the men on night duty in the department nearest the scene flocked out to help the station staff and the firemen. By and by the refreshment rooms were involved and there was a wholesale removal of the viands and liquors. Under such circumstances, drinking was naturally indulged in, and more than one — ofhcials, as well as the rank and file — who came out to help returned the worse for liquor. Such adventures as these live long in the memory of the workmen : it is not often they have the opportunity of taking a drink at the company's expense. Some time after the station fire a much more serious 36 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY outbreak occurred in an extensive shed used for the con- struction and storing of carriages. There were in the place sufficient vehicles to compose twenty trains, and the most of them were brand new, representing alto- gether a huge sum of money. When the watchman passed through on his rounds at midnight everything appeared safe ; the place was dark, silent, and deserted. Half an hour afterwards a workman employed in a shed some distance away saw a dull glow above the roof and thought at first it was the moon rising. A few minutes afterwards flames leapt into sight and discovered a fire of some magnitude. Quickly the signal was given, and every available man rushed on the scene. The centre of the shed was like a raging furnace. The roof was on fire and the flames leapt from coach to coach with great rapidity. These, from their slightness of construction and from their being thickly coated with paint and varnish, caught fire like matchwood and burned furiously, while large sections of the roof fell in. Every now and then, as a coach became consumed down to the framework, the gas cyhnders underneath burst with a terrific report, like that of a piece of heavy artillery. The shattered iron and steel flew in all directions and increased the danger to the firemen. Hundreds of people of the neighbourhood, roused with the repeated shocks, left their beds and ran out of doors to ascertain the cause of the explosions. Some thought it was an earthquake and others feared it was the boilers exploding. Many volunteered to help, but their offers were refused, and a strong cordon of pohce was drawn around the shed to keep out all intruders. So fierce was the heat within | that the steel tyres of the wheels were buckled and bent, the rails were warped and twisted into fantastic shapes and the heavy iron girders of the roof were wrecked. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 37 The frames of the burnt coaches were reduced to a pile of debris and were totally unrecognisable. The damage to rolling stock and to the premises amounted to many thousands of pounds, yet the fire was all over in two or three hours. As to its origin, that remained a mystery, and completely baffled the detectives. Ex- amination of the tell-tales proved that the watchman had gone his round all right, and though many experi- ments were made the cause of the outbreak remained inexplicable. A great part of the repairs to carriages — such as washing-down, smudging, and especially the cleaning and re- fitting of interiors — is done out of doors in the yard when the weather permits, for it would be im- possible to contain all the vehicles in the sheds. The whole of this work, even to the most trivial detail, is now done at the piece rate. Experienced examiners decide the amount of repairs to be executed, and the prices are fixed according to their recommendation. It is generally a matter of luck to the workman whether the repair job pays or not. Very often the carrying out of repairs takes a much longer time than had been anticipated. The renewing of one part often necessitates the remodelling of another, or the fitting up of the new piece may prove to be a very tedious process. In this case the workman may lose money on the job, though, on the other hand, he may have finished altogether earlier than he expected. It would be very nearly impossible to have a perfect equation in the matter of repair prices, and this is recognised by all, masters and men, too, at the factory. The workman is commonly told by his chief that " what he loses on the swings he must pick up on the roundabouts," i.e., what he loses on one job he must gain on another, and this axiom is universally accepted, at least by all those who do repairs. 38 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY On new work the labour is uniform and there is no need and no excuse for inequaUty of prices. Great consternation fell upon the carriage finishers, painters, and pattern-makers, several years ago, when it became known that piece rates were to be substituted for the old day-work system, especially as the change was to be introduced at a very slack time. It was looked upon as a catastrophe by the workmen, and such it very nearly proved to be. Many journeymen were discharged, some were transferred to other grades of work — that is, those who were willing to suffer reduc- tion rather than to be thrown quite out of employment — and the whole department was put on short time, working only two or three days a week, while some of the men were shut out for weeks at a stretch. Several who protested against the change were dismissed, and others — workmen of the highest skill and of long con- nection with the company — had their wages mercilessly cut down for daring to interpose their opinion. The pace was forced and quickened by degrees to the utter- most and then the new prices were fixed, the managers themselves attending and timing operations and super- vising the prices. Feehng among the workmen ran high, but there was no help for the situation and it had to be accepted. Few of the men belonged to a trade union, or they might have opposed the terms and made a better bargain ; as it was they were completely at the mercy of the managers and foremen. The carriage finishers and upholsterers are a class in themselves, differing, by the very nature of their craft, from all others at the factory. As great care and clean- liness are required for their work, they are expected to be spruce and clean in their dress and appearance. This, together with the fact that the finisher may have served an apprenticeship in a high-class establishment LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 39 and one far more genteel than a railway department can hope to be, tends to create in him a sense of refine- ment higher than is usually found in those who follow rougher and more laborious occupations. His cloth suit, hnen collar, spotless white apron, clean shaven face, hair carefully combed, and bowler hat are subjects of comment by the grimy toilers of other sheds. His dwelling is situated in the cleanest part of the town and corresponds uith his personal appearance. In the evening he prosecutes his craft at home and manu- factures furniture and decorations for himself and family, or earns money by doing it for others. Very often the whole contents of his parlour and kitchen — mth the exception of iron and other ware — were made by his hands, so, since his wages are above the ordinary, provided he is steady and temperate^ he may be reason- ably comfortable and well-to-do. The painters are not quite as fortunate as are their comrades the finishers. Their work, though in some respects of a high order and important, is at the same time less artistic than is that of the cabinetmakers and upholsterers. It is also much more wearisome and unhealthy, and the wages are not as high. Very often, too, work for them is extremely scarce, especially during the summer and autumn months, when every available coach is required in traffic for the busy season, and they are consequently often on short time. Their busiest periods are the interval between autumn and Christmas and the time between the New Year and Easter. The style of colouring and ornamentation for the carriages has changed considerably of recent years and there is now not nearly as much labour and pains expended upon the vehicles as in times past. The brighter colours have been quite eUminated and have given place to chocolates and browns, while the frames and ends of 40 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY the carriages are painted black. The arms of the com- pany, together with figures, letters, initials^ and other designs, so conspicuous to the eye of the traveller, are affixed by means of transfers and therefore are not dependent upon the skill of the painters. The washing-down of the coaches is done by labourers, some of whom live in the town and others in the villages round about. Little skill is required for this, and the operation is very dull and monotonous. The men are supplied with long-handled brushes, soaps, and sponges, hot and cold water and chemical preparations. Large gangs of them are continually employed in removing the accretions of dust and filth acquired by the coaches in their mad career over the railway line, through tunnels and cuttings, smoky towns and cities. Sometimes the vehicles are completely smothered with grease and mud thrown up by the sleepers in bad weather, and every particle of this must be removed before the painter can apply his brush to renovate the exterior. The washers-down are generally raw j^ouths and many of them are of the shifty type — the kind that will not settle anywhere for long together. The drabness of their employment forces them to seek some means of breaking the monotony of it, and they often indulge in noise and horseplay, singing and shouting at the top of their voices and slopping the water over each other. This brings them into trouble with the officials, and occasions them to take many a forced holiday, but they do not care about that, and when they arrive back upon the scene they practise their old games as boldly as before. Having no trade, and receiving but a scant amount in wages, they do not feel to be bound down hand and foot to the employment, and even if they should be discharged altogether they will not have lost very much. Their youthfulness, too, renders them LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 41 buoyant and independent ; all the world is open to them if they decide to hand in their notices. The cushion-beaters, formerly weU known about the yard, have quite disappeared now. At whatever time you were outside the shed, in fine weather, you might have heard their rods beating on the cushions in perfect rhythm and order. They were taken from the coaches and laid upon stools in the open air, and the beater held a rod, usually of hazel, in each hand. With them he alternately smote the cushion, keeping up the effort for a long time, until every particle of dust was removed and blown away. His dexterity in the use of the rods and the ability to prolong the operation were a source of great interest to the youths ; all the small boys of the shed stole out at intervals to see him at work. Now the dust is removed from the cushions and paddings by means of a vacuum arrangement. This is in the form of a tube, with an aperture several inches in diameter and having strong suctional powers created by the ex- haust steam from the engine in the shed. It is passed to and fro over the surface of the cushion, and the dust is thereby extracted and received into the apparatus. So strong is the suction within that it will sometimes draw the buttons from the upholstering if they are loose or frayed. The quantity of dust extracted from one carriage often amounts to a pound in weight. Old customs and systems die hard at the works and, whatever their own opinion of the matter may be, the officials are not considered by the workmen to be of a very progressive type. Many of the methods employed, both in manufacture and administration, are extremely old-fashioned and antiquated ; an idea has to be old and hoary before it stands a chance of being admitted and adopted here. Small private firms are usually a long way ahead of railway companies in the matter of 42 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY methods and processes, and they pay better wages into the bargain. They have to face competition and to cater for the markets, while railway companies, being both the producers and consumers of their wares, can afford to choose their own way of manufacturing them. In addition to this, the heads of small firms usually have an interest in the concern whereas the managers of railway works are otherwise placed ; it makes no difference to them what they spend or waste^ and they are always able to cover up their shortcomings. Their prodigality and mismanagement would ruin a hundred small firms in as many months, though the outside world knows little or nothing about it. But if the officials creep they urge the rank and file along at a good rate and make a pretence of being smart and business-like. The fact of a workman being engaged prosecuting a worn-out method for the production of an article does not make the task lighter or more congenial for him, rather the opposite. Real improvement in manufacture not onty expedites production, but also simpUfies the toil to the workman, and the newer methods are the better, generally speaking. In everything, then, except in smart management and supervision, railway sheds now resemble contract premises. Piecework prices are cut to the lowest possible point ; it is all push, drive, and hustle. No attempt is made to regulate the amount of work to be done, and short time is frequent and often of long dura- tion. This is not arranged as it was formerly, when the whole department, or none at all, was closed down. Now even a solitary shed, a portion of it, or a mere gang is closed or suspended if there is a slackness at any point. Consequently, one part of the works is often running at break-neck speed, while another is working but three or four days a week and the men are in a half- LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 43 starved condition. In one shed fresh hands are being put on, while from others they are being discharged wholesale. Transfers from one shop to another are seldom made, and never from department to depart- ment. One would think that the various divisions of the works were owned by separate firms, or people of different nationalities, such formidable barriers appear to exist between them. The chiefs of the departments are usually more or less rivals and are often at loggerheads, each one try- ing to outdo the other in some particular direction and to bring himself into the notice of the directors. The same, with a little modification, may be said of the fore- men of the several divisions, while the workmen are about indifferent in this respect. For them, all beyond their own sheds, except a few personal friends or re- lations, are total strangers. Though they may have been employed at the works for half a century, they have never gone beyond the boundary of their own department, and perhaps not as far as that, foi trespass- ing from shed to shed is strictly forbidden and sharply punished where detected. Thus, the workman's sphere is very narrow and Hmited. There is no freedom ; nothing but the same coming and going, the still mono- tonous journey to and fro and the old hours, month after months and year after year. It is no wonder that the factory workmen come to lead a dull existence and to lose interest in all life beyond their own smoky walls and dwelhngs. It would be a matter for surprise if the reverse condition prevailed. CHAPTER IV THE OLD CANAL — THE ASH- WHEELERS — THE BRICK- LAYERS — RIVAL FOREMEN — THE ROAD-WAGGON BUILDERS — THE WHEEL SHED — BOY TURNERS — THE RUBBISH HEAP. West of the workshop the yard is bounded by a canal that formerly connected the railway town with the ancient borough town of Cricklade, eight miles distant. But things are different now from what they were at the time the cutting was made, for great changes have taken place during the last half century in all matters pertaining to transport. Then the long barges, drawn by horses, mules^ and donkeys, and laden with corn, stone, coal, timber, gravel, and other materials, pro- ceeded regularly by day and night, up and down the canal to their destinations — north to Gloucester, west to Bristol, east to Abingdon, and thence to far-off London. At that time, instead of being filled with mud, weeds, and refuse, and overgrown with masses of rank vegetation — grasses, flags, water-parsnip, and a score of other aquatic plants — the channel was bioad and free, and full of clear, hmpid water. The cattle came to drink in the meadows ; there the clouds were mirrored, floating in fields of azure. The fish leapt and played in the sunshine, making innumerable rings on the surface, and the swallows skimmed swiftly along, dipping now and then to snatch up a sweet mouthful to carry home to their young in the nest under the eaves of the neighbouring cottage or shed. 44 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 45 Occasionally, too, a steamboat passed through the locks out beyond the town and proceeded on its way to the Thames or Avon. The dredger plied up and down to prevent the accumulation of mud and refuse, and the towpaths and bridges were kept in good repair. The railway had not everything its own way then. The fever of haste had not taken hold of every part of the community, and a few, at least, could await the arrival of the barges and so save a considerable sum in the con- veyance of their goods. But now all that is changed. Goods must be loaded, whirled rapidly away and de- livered in a few hours, for no one can wait. The pace of the freight trains has been increased almost to express speed. Every possible means that could be thought of have been devised to facilitate transport, and the barges have disappeared from this neighbourhood. Here and there at the wharves may still be seen a few rotten old hulks, falhng to pieces and embedded in the mud ; the bridges are shattered and dilapidated and the lock gates are broken. The towpaths are over- grown with bushes and become almost impassable, and the channel is blocked up. The only person who benefits by the change is the botanist. He, from time to time, may be seen busily engaged in grappling for rare specimens of weeds and grasses, or the less learned student of wild flowers comes to gather what treasures he may from the wilderness : the beautiful flowering rush, golden iris, graceful water plantain, arrowhead, water violet, figwort, skull-cap, gipsy wort, and celery-leaved crowfoot. Formerly, too, the works derived a considerable quantity of water through the canal, but that has long ceased to be. There is no water at hand now, and supplies have had to be sought for among the Cotswold Hills, at a great distance from the town. The engines at the old pump- 46 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY ing station, near the canal path, once so famiUar a feature to travellers that way, are silent now and will be heard there no more. They, too, have become a thing of the past. The factory premises extend along both banks of the canal and are protected on the far side by a high wall, while that part nearest the workshop is open to the water's edge. On this side, first of all, is a high plat- form, called the stage, which is used to load the ashes and refuse, slag and clinkers from the furnaces and forges. This refuse is wheeled out twice daily — at six in the morning and again in the evening after the furnaces have been clinkered — by labourers, upon whom the duty devolves. To remove the clinker properly and economically from the grate of the furnace the fire must have been damped for a short while. This allows the whitehot coals to cHng together underneath, and they form a kind of arch above the bars. When this has been accomplished the furnaceman inserts a strong steel bar at the bottom, resting it upon the " bridge," and, with a heavy sledge, breaks the clinker, working along from side to side. That is in a compact layer or mass, often six or eight inches deep, consider- ably thicker in the corners, and it is very tough while it is hot. After it has been thoroughly broken up, several of the fire bars are removed together, beginning at one side, and the heavy clinker drops through, spluttering and hissing, into the deep boshes of water disposed underneath. If the fire has not been suffi- ciently damped it is loose and hollow, and as soon as the bars are removed the white-hot coals rush tlirough into the water, raising clouds of hot, Winding dust and dense volumes of steam. Immediately the furnaceman, warned of the fall, springs backwards and escapes from the pit, or, if he LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 47 is tardy in his movements, he is caught in the hot vapour and scalded severely. Sometimes the fall is very sudden and he has no time to escape. Then his face and arms take the full force of the rushing steam and he is cer- tain to receive painful injuries. When the operation of chnkering is over the men bring their wheel-barrows and, with the aid of long-handled shovels, remove the refuse from the pits and run it outside and upon the stage. This is hot work, whenever it is performed ; the men are always sure of a wet shirt at the task. Whatever the weather may be, wet or fine, frost or snow, they come to it stripped to the waist and quickly run their wheel-barrows to and fro. If the rain should pelt in torrents it makes httle or no difference to them, they still go on with their work, half-naked and bare- headed. Hardy and strong as they may be, this is bound to affect their health, sooner or later. It is not an uncommon thing to find one or other of them breaking down at an early age, a physical wreck, unfit for further service. The ash-wheelers belong to the same class as the coahes and are sometimes identical with them. They are usually some of the strongest men in the shed, new hands, perhaps, who have not yet earned for themselves an installation into the ranks of the regular machine staff. Sometimes, however, they have proved them- selves smart with the shovel and wheel-barrow and have been considered too serviceable to shift to other employ- ment, for, as it is well known that " the wiUing horse must draw double," so the workman who is wilhng to perform a hard duty without mumuring and complaint is always imposed upon and forced to do extra. The natural fool or the systematic skulker is pitied and respected. Once his general conduct is understood he is taken for what he is worth, and no more is expected 4S LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY of him. In time he is rewarded. He may come to be a checker, a clerk, or an inspector ; while the sterHng fellow, the hard worker, the " sticker," as he is called, may stop and work himself to death hke a slave. Thus, deserving men, because they have proved themselves adepts at the work, have been kept on the ash-barrows for ten or twelve years, sweating their hves away for the sum of eighteen shillings a week. Several, however, disgusted with the business, have left the shed and gone back to work on the farms, in the pure surroundings of the fields and villages. This branch of work has recently been overhauled and estimated at the piece rate, and the wages somewhat improved, though the amount of work to each man has been almost doubled. The refuse and clinker from the furnaces are transported to various parts and used for filhng up hollows, and for the making of banks and beds of yards and sidings. Beyond the stage, lodged on the ground, are two old iron vans that were formerly used in the goods traffic. They have no windows or hghts of any kind, merely a double door opening outwardly. These are the cabins and stores of the bricklayers, and they contain cement, fireclay, and firebricks for the furnaces and forges. A permanent staff of bricklayers is kept in each depart- ment at the works to carry out whatever repairs are necessary from time to time and to see to the construc- tion and renovation of the furnaces. If there is any building on a large scale required, such as a new shed, stores, or offices, extra hands are put on from the town and afterwards discharged when the work is done. This procedure gives the officials an opportunity of selecting the best men, so that it often happens that new hands, temporarily engaged, become fixtures if they have shown exceptional skill at their trade and are otherwise suitable. In that case some of the old hands must go, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 49 and it needs not to be said that such an opportunity is welcomed by the foreman, as it provides him with an excuse for removing undesirables without being too much blamed himself. The bricklayers are a distinct class and do not mingle well with the other men at the works. Their having to do with bricks and mortar, instead of with iron and steel, seems to exclude them from the general hive, and the fact of their being dressed in canvas suits and over- alls, and smeared with cement and fireclay, instead of being blackened with soot and oil, tends to emphasise the distinction. As with the rest of the staff, they are recruited from all parts of the country, and some of them have served a rural apprenticeship. In shrewdness and intelligence they do not rank with the machinists ; that is to say, they may be smart at their trade, but they do not discover extraordinary faculties beyond that. Perhaps the nature of their toil has something to do with it, for that is at best a dull and uninspiring vocation. There is no magic required in the setting together of bricks and mortar, and little exertion of the intellect is needed in patching up old walls and buildings. They are nevertheless very jealous of their craft, such as it is, and deeply resent any intrusion into their ranks other than by the gates of the usual apprenticeship. Occa- sionally it happens that a bricklayer's labourer, who has been for many years in attendance on his mate, shows an aptitude for the work, so that the foreman, in a busy period, is induced to equip him with the trowel. In that case he at once becomes the subject of sneering criticism ; whatever work he does is condemned, and he is hated and shunned by his old mates and companions. The foreman, too, takes advantage of his position and pays him less than the trade rate of wages, so that, after all, he is really made to feel that he is not a journeyman. D 50 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY Very often, when there is no building to be done, the bricklayers must turn their hands to other work, such as nawying, whitewashing, painting, and so on, aU which falls under their particular department. Armed with pick and shovel, oi pot and brush, they must dig foundations and drains, or scale the walls and roof and cleanse or decorate the shed. This is always productive of much grumbling and sarcastic comment, but it is better than being suspended. On the whole the brick- layers have a fairly comfortable billet at the works and they are not subject to frequent loss of time through wet weather and other accidents, as are their fellows of the town, though they do not receive as much in wages. It is astonishing what a prodigious amount of work the labourers will get through in a short time, and apparently with little exertion, when they are digging out drains and foundations for new furnaces, steam- hammers, or other machinery. These foundations are generally huge pits, twelve or fifteen feet deep and double the size square. Stripped to the waist in the heat of the workshop, and armed with the heavy graft tool, with a stout iron plate fixed underneath their right foot, they will dig for hours without resting and yet seem to be always fresh and vigorous. Occasionally, as they throw up the solid clay, some workman of the shed will steal along to examine the fossil remains, pebbles, and flints, that were embedded in the earth, and slip back to his place at the steam-hammer, pre- serving some relic or other for future examination. The sturdy labourer, however, keeps digging out the clay and hurling it up to the light. He knows nothing of geological data, theories and opinions, and cares not to inquire. He is there to dig the pit and not to trouble himself about the nature of soils and deposits, and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 51 though you should talk to him ever so learnedly of old time submersions, accretions, and formations, he only answers you with a blank stare or an unsympa- thetic grin. His private opinion is that you are some- thing of a lunatic. There is one among the bricklayers' labourers that is remarkable. This is the silent man, generally known as Herbert. The story goes that Herbert was once in love and thought to take a wife. But the course of true love did not run smooth in his case, and, in the end, the young lady jilted Herbert. That is according to the story. It may or may not have been true ; perhaps Herbert could tell, but he is not at all communicative. Whatever the circumstances were, they made a profound impression upon Herbert's mind and he has never been the same man since. Now he does not speak to any except his near workmate, and only then to answer the most necessary questions. It is useless for an out- sider to attempt to make him speak ; he ignores all your attentions. To cause him to smile would be akin to working a miracle. The set features never relax. The eyes are vacant and expressionless, the mouth is firm and stern, and the whole countenance rigid. Yet Herbert is a fine-looking man. His features are regular — almost classic — his face is bronzed with work- ing out of doors, and he is a picture of health. In height he is medium. His shoulders are broad and square, his arms strong and muscular, and he has the endurance of an ox. Would you tire Herbert ? That is impossible. Whatever labour you set him to do he performs it without a murmur. He does the work of three ordinary men. Must he dig ? He will dig, dig, dig, and throw up the huge spits of heavy clay as high as his head, one might say for ever. Must he wheel away the debris ? He will pile up the wheel-barrow till it is 52 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY ready to break down under the weight, and trundle it off and up to the stage without the sHghtest exertion and be back again in a breath. He will lift enormous weights and strike tremendous blows with the sledge. He is tireless in his use of the pick and shovel ; in fact, whatever you set Herbert to do he accomplishes it all in about a fifth of the time ordinarily required for the purpose. He is the butt of his masters and of his work- mates. Whatever uncommonly laborious task there is to be done Herbert is the man to do it, and the more he does the more he must do, though he does not know it, or if he does, he shows no indication of the knowledge. Now and again the foreman stands by and watches him approvingly, and this stimulates him to fresh efforts. He revels in the work and, whatever he thinks about it all, he is still silent and inexpHcable. This sort of thing is all right from the point of view of the foreman, but it is very inconvenient and unfair to the other labourers who are sane in their minds and mortal in their bodies, for everything they do is adjudged according to the standard of this indefatigable Hercules. The overseer, used to seeing him slaving endlessly, thinks light of the others' efforts, and imagines that they are not doing their share of the toil, so uneven is the compari- son of their labours. In reality, such a man as Herbert is a danger and an enemy of his kind, though as he is quite unconscious of his conduct and does it all with the best intentions he must be forgiven. Such a one is more to be pitied than blamed. The foremen of the bricklayers are not bricklayers themselves, and never have been, but were selected apparently without any consideration of their specific abilities. This one was a shunter, another was a car- penter, a third was a waggon-builder, and so on. Per- haps So-and-so and So-and-so went to school together, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 53 or worked formerly in the same shed ; or consanguinity is the cause, for blood is thicker than water in the factory, as elsewhere. Accordingly, it often comes about that the most fitting person to take the responsible posi- tion is thrust aside at the last moment for an utter stranger, one who has no knowledge whatever of the work he is to supervise. With a certain amount of " push- fulness/' however, and an extraordinary confidence in himself and his abilities, the new man is able to make a pretence of knowledge and, somehow or other, the work proceeds. Very often it would go on for months just as well without the foreman to interfere, and in many cases even better, for it is the chargemen and gangers who have the actual control of operations and who possess the real and intimate knowledge of the work. Should an aspirant to the post of foreman through his own merits be set aside for a stranger — as is some- times the case — there is bound to be jealousy existing between the two for ever afterwards, which now and again breaks out into heated scenes and may result in brawls and dismissals. Of the workmen, some will take the one side, and some the other ; they are mutu- ally distrustful, and have recourse to whispering and tale-telling. If it has been proved that one workman is guilty of getting another his discharge by any unfair means he is not forgiven by his mates. The dismissed man, in such a case, will frequently wait for his informer outside the gates, and will not be satisfied until he has given him a good thrashing. Perhaps he will walk boldly in through the entrance with the other men and take him unaware at his work and punish him on the spot. It is superfluous to say that this is not tolerated by the officials, and anyone who is so bold as to do it must be prepared to stand the consequences and appear at the Borough PoHce Court. 54 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY Now and again a foreman, who has been guilty of some underhanded action, is taken to task by the exasperated victim and treated to a Httle surprise combat of fisti- cuffs. Perhaps the foreman is a sneak or a bully, or both, and has carried his tyrannical behaviour too far for human endurance ; or private jealousy may have impelled him to some cowardly turn or other, and the workman, driven to desperation, takes the law into his own hands and gives him a thrashing. This — provided the reprisal was merited — will be a source of huge dehght to the other men in the shed, and everyone will rejoice to see the offender " taken down a notch," as they say ; but if it was merely an exhibition of unwarrantable temper on the workman's part, the overseer will be commiserated with and defended. Whether right or wrong the pugnacious one is dismissed. His services are no longer required at the shed ; he must seek occu- pation elsewhere. Running along for some distance near the canal is a shed in which the road-waggons are made — troUies, vanSj and cars for use in the goods yards and stations about the line — and inside this, and parallel with it, is the wheel shop, where the wheels, tyres, and axles are turned and fitted up for the waggons and carriages. Besides the making of new work in the first-named of these sheds, there is always a considerable amount of repairs to be carried out. A great part of this is done outside, in fine weather, in order to give increased room within doors. The road-waggon builders are of a sturdy type. Many of them are inclined to be old-fashioned and primi- tive in their methods, and they are solid in character. This is accounted for by the fact that the greater part of the older hands received their initial training in small yards, in little country towns and villages, where they LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 55 worked among farmers and rustics. The work they did there was necessarily very sohd and strong — such as heavy carts and waggons for the farms — and every- thing had to be done by hand, slowly and laboriously perhaps, but efficiently and well. This taught them the practical side of their trade, as how to be self-suffic- ing and independent of machinery, which are the most valuable features of a good apprenticeship and are of great service to the workman in after years. By and by, when the time came for them to leave the scene of their apprentice days — for few masters will pay the journeyman's rate of wages to any who, at the end of their term, have not gone further afield for new experi- ence — they shifted out for themselves. Some went one way and some another. This one went to London, that one to Bristol, and others came to the railway town. Whatever peculiarities of workmanship they acquired in their youth they brought with thehi and practised in their new sphere, and so the individual style is main- tained in spite of totally different methods and processes. At the present time — in large factories, at any rate — there is machinery for everything, and this is highly destructive of the purely personal faculty in manufacture. But in the case of the road-waggon builder, though a great many, or perhaps all, of the parts have been shaped for him by steam power, there yet remains the fitting up and building of the vehicle, which is reasonably a task requiring considerable care and skill. The iron frame of the locomotive or railway waggon may be clapped together quite easily, for there is no very elabor- ate fitting or joining to be done. Good strong rivets are the chief things required there. The wooden bodies of the vans and cars, however, must be fitted and built with the nicest precision and finish, or the materials would shrink away and the parts would gape open, or 56 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY fall to pieces. Thus, the road-waggon builder, as weU as the carriage body-maker, must be a craftsman of the first order, and while some journeymen may be at liberty to sacrifice their dearly gained experience and individual characteristics in the face of newer methods and improved mechanical processes, it is well for him to hold fast to what he has found useful and good in the past. The workmen of every shed have their own particular tone and style collectively as well as individually ;• different trades and atmospheres apparently producing different characteristics and temperaments. Accord- ingly, the men of one shed are well-known for one quahty, while those of another are noted for something quite different. These are famed for steadiness, civilitj^, and correct behaviour ; those for noise, rudeness, horse- play, and even ruffianism. The men of some sheds are remarkable for their extreme docihty and their almost childish obedience to the slightest and most insignificant rules of the factory, counting every official as a thing superhuman and nearly to be worshipped. Others are notorious for ideas quite the reverse of this, for riotous conduct \\dthin and without the shed, an utter contempt of the laws of the factory, for thieving, fighting, and other propensities. These characteristics are deter- mined as much by the kind of work done in the sheds and the quality of the overseer, as by the men's own nature and temperament. Most foremen are exces- sively autocratic and severe with their men, denying them the slightest privilege or relaxation of the iron laws of the factory. Others are of a wheedling, pseudo- fatherly type, who, by a combination of professed paternal regard and a cunning manipulation of the reins, contrive to make everything they do appear just and reasonable and so hold their men in complete sub- LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 57 jection. Some foremen, again, are of the ceremonious order, who, from pure vanity, will insist upon the com- plete observance of the most trivial detail and drive their workmen half-way to distraction. A few, on the other hand, are generous and humane. They hold the reins slack, and, mthout the knowledge of their chiefs, grant a few small privileges and are rewarded with the confidence of the workmen and a willingness to labour on their part amounting to enthusiasm. For, as the horse that is tightly breeched draws none too well, neither do those men work best who are rigidly kept down under the iron rod of the overseer. DiscipHne there is bound to be, as everyone knows, but there is no excuse for treating a man as though he were a wild beast, or an infant just out of the cradle. Whatever dissatisfaction exists about the works is chiefly owing to the behaviour of the officials, for they force the work- men into rebellion. If the directors of the company are anxious for the welfare of their staff — as they profess to be — let them instruct their managers and foremen to show themselves a Httle more tolerant and kindly dis- posed to the men in the sheds. Actions speak louder than words, and kindness shown to workmen is never forgotten. The wheel shop is a large building, containing many rows of lathes for the wheels, tyres, and axles, which are nearly all tended by boys. The Hues of shafting stretch in the roof, up and down from end to end of the place, and the pulleys whirl round almost noiselessly- overhead. Everything is spotlessly clean, for there are no furnaces belching out their smoke, dust, c?md flames. The temperature is low and the shed, eve/n in the hottest part of the summer, is cool in comparison with the other premises round about. In the 'vvinter it is heated with steam from the boilers and the exhaust 58 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY from the shop engines. This prevents the boys from catching cold. The heavy steel axles and tjnres are exceedingly chill in the winter, especially in frosty weather. The boys come from all psirts, from town and country alike, immediately after leaving school, and go straight to the lathes. There are labourers to fix the wheels and tyres in the machines, and the boys attend to the tools, working carefully to the gauges provided. Coming to the work at a time when their minds are in a receptive state, they soon master the principal parts of the busi- ness and before long become highly skilled and pro- ficient. Their wages are no more than five or six shilhngs a week for a start, with yearly rises of one or two shillings until they reach a pound or twenty-two shillings. Upon arriving at this stage — unless work is plentiful — they are usually removed from the lathe and set labouring, or otherwise transferred or discharged as too expensive for the work. Sometimes, after this, they migrate to other towns and earn double or treble the wages they received before, for good wheel- and axle-turners are in constant demand and a clever work- man may be sure of securing a high rate of remuneration. The boys are an interesting group, and one that is well worthy of consideration. They are of all sorts and sizes, of many grades and walks in life. There is the country labourer's lad, who formerly worked on the land amid the horses and cattle ; the town labourer's lad, who has been errand-boy or who sold newspapers on the street corner ; the small shopkeeper's lad, the fitter's lad, tall and pale, in clean blue overalls, and the enginedriver's lad, fresh from school, whose one ambition is to emulate his father and, hke him, drive an engine, only one that is two or three times as big and powerful. There iire tall and short boys, boys fat and lean, pale and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 59 robust-looking, ragged and well-kept, with sad and merry faces. And what pranks they play with one another, and would play, if they were not curbed and checked with the ever watchful eye of the shop foreman ! They are always ready for some game or other — foot- ball, hide-and-seek, or " ierky " — at any time of the day, and whatever they do, it does not seem to tire them down ; they are still fresh and active, cheerful and vivacious. Many of them begin the day well with running regularly to work, perhaps for two or three miles. At five minutes past six in the morning they commence at the lathe, and when breakfast- time comes they scamper off, food in hand, and play about the yard, or in the recreation field beyond. From nine till one their labour is continuous ; there they stand, bound as with chains to the machines they serve, for ever watch- ful, so as not to spoil the cut and waste the axle, which would mean an enforced holiday for them. When one o'clock comes, smothered with oil and with faces like those of sweeps — often blackened purposely to give themselves the appearance of having perspired much — they race off as before, and play recklessly until it is time to return to the shed. And after the day's work is finished and they go home in the evening, they wash away the grime and oil and play about the streets and lanes till bed-time, utterly indifferent to the wearisome occupation awaiting them on the morrow. Their sleep is sound and sweet, for their hearts are happy and light. Of the cares of life they know nothing ; the future is full of hope for them ;' all the world is before them. Their chief concern is for the holidays. All these are anticipated and awaited with great joy and eagerness ; it is by this alone that they discover the extreme tedium of the daily drudgery of the workshop. 6o LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY The boys' foreman is an experienced official, shrewd, keen, and very severe ; a good judge of character, cautious, and careful, civil enough, but unbending in a decision, a very good formative agent, one who will exercise a healthy restraint upon the intractables and encourage the timid, but who exploits them all for the good of the firm. His keen eyes and sound judgment enable him to at once sum up a lad's capabilities. He takes the youth and sets him where he will show to the best advantage, instructs him on many of the crucial points, advises him as to the best means of getting on, and very often furnishes him with hints of a personal nature which — whatever the lad may think of them at the time — ^bear fruit in after hfe. If the youngster is inclined to be wild and incorrigible he tries his best to reform him, and gives him sound advice. He has also been known to administer a corrective cuff in the ear and a vigorous boot in the posterior, but he usually succeeds in bringing out the good points and suppress- ing, if not entirely eradicating, the bad. Whenever he walks up or down the shed the boys fix their attention more firmly upon their machines, for they feel his keen, penetrating eyes upon them, and they know that nothing ever escapes his notice. If there is a slackness at any point the word is passed rapidly on — " Look out, here's J y coming," and the overseer is sometimes amused with the various expedients re- sorted to in order to deceive him and cover up the juvenile shortcomings. As to wages, prices, and systems, they are not altogether his fault. It he could suit himself he might possibly be willing to pay more, but he is always being pressed by the staff to reduce prices and expenses, and, like the other foremen, he is not prepared to offer effective resistance. Being an official of long standing, however, he is secure in his place, and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 6i has no occasion to betray his hands to the firm, as is too often the case with young foremen, who wish to secure personal notice and advantage. That is one of the most damning features of all, and is becoming more and more a practice at the works. One young "under- strapper " I knew is in the habit of standing over the boys at the lathe, watch in hand, for four hours without once moving, and, by his manner and language, com- pelling them to run at an excessive rate so as to cut their prices. Without doubt he is deserving of the birch rod, though the managers, who allow it, are the more to blame. A short way from the canal, north of the road- waggon shed, is the rubbish heap, at which most of the old wood refuse and lumber, with hundreds of tons of saw- dust, are brought to be burned. At one time all this was consumed in the boiler furnaces, but since the amount of refuse has enormously increased it has been found expedient to transport some part of it there and so do away with it. One small furnace is used for the purpose, and by far the greater part of it, especially the sawdust, is burned in big heaps upon the ground. This is a slovenly, as well as a dangerous method, and the inconvenience resulting to the men in the sheds is considerable. If the wind is in the west the dense clouds of smoke sweep along the ground and are blown straight in through the open doors upon the stampers, and are a source of extreme discomfort and disgust. There is always plenty of smother in the shed, arising from the oil furnaces, without receiving any addition from outside. Once the workshop is filled with the bluish vapour it takes hours to disperse, for, though there are doors all round and hundreds of ventilators on the roof, they do not carry off the nuisance. Very often the smoke will travel from end to end of the shed, 62 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY like a current of water, but just as it reaches the door- way and you think it is going to pass outside, it suddenly whirls round Hke a wheel and traverses the whole length of the place, and so on, over and over again. If the wind is in the north, then the road-waggon builders must suffer the persecuting clouds of smoke and be tormented with smarting and burning eyes at work ; and if it should blow from over the town, across the rolling downs from the south, the smother is carried high over the fence and sweeps along the recreation field to the discomfort of small boys and lovers, or of whoever happens to be passing that way. If the nuis- ance arose from any other quarter complaints might be made and steps taken towards the mitigation of it. As it is, no one, not even a member of the local bodies and the Corporation, summons up the courage to make a protest, for everyone bows down before the company's officials and representatives in the railway town and fears to raise objections to anything that may be done by the people at the works. CHAPTER V " THE FIELD " — " CUTTING - DOWN " — THE FLYING DUTCHMAN — THE FRAME SHED — PROMOTION — RIVET BOYS — THE OVERSEER On the north the factory yard is bounded by a high board fence that runs along close behind the shed and divides the premises from the recreation grounds, which are chiefly the haunt of juveniles during the summer months and the resort of football players and athletes in the winter. Here also the small children come after school and wander about the field among the buttercups, or sit down amid the long grass in the sunshine, or swing round the Maypole, under the very shadow of the black walls, with only a thin fence to separate them from the busy factory. The ground beneath their feet shakes with the ponderous blows of the steam-hammers ; the white clouds of steam from the exhaust pipes shoot high into the air. Dense volumes of blackest smoke tower out of the chimneys, whirling round and round and over and over, or roll lazily away in a long line out beyond the town and fade into the distance. The fence stretches away to the east for a quarter of a mile from the shed and then turns again at right angles and continues the boundary on that side as far as to the entrance by the railway. About half-way across are several large shops and premises used for Hft- ing, fitting, and storing the carriages ; beyond them is a wide, open space commonly known as " the field." As a matter of fact, the whole area of the yard was leally 64 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY a series of fields until quite recently. Fifteen years ago, although the space was enclosed, you might have walked among the hedgerows and have been in the midst of rustic surroundings. Numerous rabbits infested the place and retained their burrows till long after the steel rails were laid along the ground. Hares, too, continued to frequent the yard until the rapid extension of the premises and the clearing away of the grass and bushes deprived them of cover. It was a common thing to see them and the rabbits shooting in and out among the old wheels and tyres that had been removed from the condemned vehicles. If you should follow the fence along for a short dis- tance you might even now soon forget the factory and imagine yourself to be far away in some remote village corner, surrounded with fresh green foliage and drink- ing in the sweet breath of the open fields. One would not conceive that in the very factory grounds, within sight of the hot, smoky workshops, and but a stone's throw from some of them, it would be possible to enjoy the charm of rusticity, and to revel unseen in a pro- fusion of flowers that would be sought for in vain in many parts about the countryside. Yet such is the pleasure to be derived from a visit to this little frequented spot. The fence, to the end, runs parallel with the re- creation ground alongside a hedgerow that once parted the two fields when the whole was in the occupation of the people at the old farmhouse that has now dis- appeared. In the hedgerow, with their trunks close against the board partition, still in their prime and in strong contrast to the black smoky walls and roofs of the sheds opposite, stand half-a-dozen stately elms that stretch their huge limbs far over the yard and throw a deep shadow on the ground beneath. At this spot the field gradually declines and, as the inner yard has been LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 65 made up to a level with the railway beyond, when you approach the angle you find yourself out of sight, with the raised platform of cinders on the one hand and, on the other, the high wooden fence and thick elms. At the corner the steel tracks have had to make a long curve, and this has left the ground there free to bring forth whatever it will. Here, also, the trees are thickest, and, within the fence, a small portion of the original site still remains. A streamlet— perhaps the last drain of a once considerable brook — enters from the recreation ground underneath the boards and is con- ducted along, now within its natural banks and now through broken iron pipes, into the corner, where it is finally swallowed up in a gully and lost to view. Stoop- ing over it, as though to protect it from further injury and insult, are several clumps of hawthorn and the remains of an old hedge of wych elm. Standing on the railway track of the bank are some frames of carriages that were burnt out at the recent big fire. Near them are several crazy old waggons and vans, that look as if they had stood in the same place for half a century and add still further to the quiet of the scene. It is alongside the fence, and especially about the corner, that the wild flowers bloom. Prominent over all is the rosebay. This extends in a belt nearly right along the fence, and chmbs up the ash bank and runs for a considerable distance among the metals, growing and thriving high among the iron wheels and frames of the carriages and reveUing in the soft ashes and cinders of the track. Side by side with this, and blooming contemporary with it, are the dehcate toadflax, bright golden ragwort, wild mignonette, yellow melilot, ox-eye daisies, mayweed, small willow-herb, meadow-sweet, ladies' bedstraw, tansy, yarrow, and cinquefoil. The wild rose blooms to perfection and the bank is richly 66 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY draped with a vigorous growth of dewberry, laden with blossoms and fruit. Beside the streamlet in the corner is a patch of cats'- tails, as high as to the knees, and a magnificent mass of butter-bur. The deliciously scented flowers of this are long since gone by, but the leaves have grown to an extraordinary size. They testify to the presence of the stream, for the butter-bur is seldom found but in close proximity to water. Here also are to be found the greater willow-herb with its large sweet pink blossoms and highly-scented leaves, the pale yellow colt's-foot, medick, purple woody night-shade, hedge stachys, spear plume thistles, hogweed and garlick mustard, with many other plants, flowering and otherwise, that have been imported with the baUast and have now taken possession of the space between the hues and the fence. The shade of the trees and beauty of the flowers and plants are dehghtful in the summer when the sun looks down from a clear, cloudless sky upon the steel rails and dry ashes of the yard, which attract and contain the heat in a remarkable degree, making it painful even to walk there in the hottest part of the day. Then the cool shade of the trees is thrice welcome, especially after the stifling heat of the workshop, the overpowering fumes of the oil furnaces and the blazing metal just left behind ; for it is impossible for any but workmen to enjoy the pleasant retreat. No outsider ever gains admittance here, and though you should often pace underneath the trees in the recreation ground you would never dream of what the interior is like. Nor do even workmen — at least, not more than one or two, and tliis at rare intervals in the meal-hours — often come here, for if they did they would be noticed by the watchmen and ordered away. Their presence here, even during LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 67 meal-hours, would be construed as prejudicial to the interests of the company. They would be suspected of theft, or of some other evil intention, or would at least be looked upon as trespassers and reported to the managers. In times gone by men and youths have been known to escape from the factory during working hours and while they were booked at their machines, by chmbing over the fence, and this has made the officials cautious and severe in deaUng with trespassers. It would not be a difficult matter, even now — and especially in the winter afternoons and evenings — to climb over the top of the fence and decamp. This part of the factory yard is by far the most whole- some of the works' premises. There is plenty of room and hght, and happy were they who, in the years ago, were told off for service in the field, breaking up the old waggons, sorting out the timber, and running the wheels from one place to another. At the time the old broad- gauge system of vehicles was converted to the four-foot scale, large gangs in the yard were regularly employed in cutting-down ; that is, reducing the waggons to the new shape. First of all the wood-work was removed ; then both sides of the iron frame — a foot each side — were cut completely away. Two new " sole-bars " were affixed, and the whole frame was riveted up again. The wheels, also, were taken out and the axles shortened and re-fitted. The carpenters now replaced the floors and sides and all was fit for traffic again. The loco- motives, on the other hand, were condemned. The boilers and machinery were built on too great a scale to be fitted to the narrow-gauge frames. They were accordingly lifted out and the boilers distributed all over the system, while the frames were cut up for scrap and new ones built in place of them. The old type of broad-gauge engine has never been 68 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY beaten for speed on the line. By reason of its occupy- ing a greater space over the wheels and axles the run- ning was more even, and there was not so much rocking of the coaches. The broad-gauge Flying Dutchman express was noted for its magnificent speed and stately carriage, and for many years after the abolition of the system stories of almost incredible runs were current at the works. One old driver, very proud of his machine, was said to have sworn to the officials that he would bring his engine and train from London to the railway town, a distance of seventy-seven miles, in an hour, dead time, with perfect safety, and he was only prevented from accomplishing the feat by the strong stand made by the officials, who threatened him with instant dismissal if he should exceed the Hmit of speed prescribed in the time-tables. At the same time, it is well known that the official time-table was often ignored, and stirring tales might be told of fi}'ing journeys performed in defiance of all written injunctions and authority. The signalmen knew of these feats and were often astounded at them, but they are only human, and they often did that they ought not to have done in order to shield the driver. The passengers, too, are always delighted to find them- selves being whirled along at a high rate. There is an intoxication in it not to be resisted, and when they leave the train at the journey's end, after an extraordinary run, they invariably go and inspect the engine and admire the brave fellow who has rushed them over the country at such an exciting speed. When the broad-gauge was converted great numbers of men from all quarters were put on at the works. Every viUage and hamlet for miles around sent in its unemployed, and many of the farms were quite deserted. These were engaged in " cutting-down " or in breaking LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 69 up the waggons and engines — little skill being necessary for that operation — and when, after several years, the system was quite reduced and slackness followed the busy period, the greater part of them were discharged and were again distributed over the countryside round about. It is impossible to go into any village within a radius of eight or ten miles of the railway town without finding at least one or two men who were employed on " the old broad-gauge," as they still call it. After their discharge the majority, by degrees, settled down to farm life. Many, however, continued out of work for a long time, and some are numbered among the " casuals " to this day. The only tools, besides hammers, required by the cutters-down, were cold sets to cut off the heads of the rivets and bolts, and punches to force the stems and stays out of the holes. They were held by hazel rods, that were suppHed in bundles from the stores for the purpose. To bind them round the steel tools they were first of all heated in the middle over the fire. Then the cutter-out took hold of one end, and his mate held the other, and the two together gave the wand several twists round. After that the rod was wound twice about the set or punch and the two ends were tied together with strong twine. This gave a good grip on the tool, which would not be obtained with' the use of an iron rod. The repeated blows on the set from the sledge would soon jar the iron rod loose and cause it to snap off, while the hazel rod grips it firmly and springs with it under the blow. Formerly all the repair riveting was done by hand. When the hot rivet was inserted in the hole the " holder- up " kept it in position, either with the " dolly " or with a heavy square-headed sledge. Then the riveters knocked down the head of the rivet with long-nosed 70 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY hammers, striking alternately in rapid succession and making the neighbourhood resound with the blows. Afterwards the chief mate held the " snap " upon it and his mate phed the sledge until the new head was perfectly round and smooth. The " snap " is a portion of steel bar, about ten inches long and toughly tem- pered, with a die, the shape of the rivet head required, infixed at one end. Now, however, pneumatic riveting machines are used out of doors. These, being small and compact, can be employed anywhere and with much fewer hands than were required by the old method. The air is supplied from accumulators into which it is forced by the engine in the shed, and it is conducted in pipes all round the factor3^ yards. The repair gangs are an off-shoot of the frame shed that is situated at a distance of nearly half a mile from the field. There the steel frames for the waggons and carriages and all iron-topped vehicles, such as ballast trucks, brake and bulhon vans, refrigerators and others are constructed. That is essentially the shop of hard work, heavy lifting and noise terrific. The din is quite inconceivable. First of all is the machinery. On this side are rows of drills, saws, slotting and planing machines ; on that are the punches and shears, screech- ing and grinding, snapping and groaning with the terrible labour imposed upon them. The long hnes of shafting and wheels whirl incessantly overhead, the cogs clatter, the belts flap on the rapidly spinning pulleys, and the blast from the fan roars loudly underground. All this, however, is nearly drowned with the noise of the hammer- ing. Hundreds of blows are being struck, on " tops " and "bottoms," steel rails and iron rails, sole-bars and headstocks, middles, diagonals, stanchions, knees, straps and girders. Every part of the frame is being subjected to the same treatment — riveted, straightened, levelled, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY Jt Of sqilafed, most unmercifully used. Every tone and degree of sound is emitted, according to the various qualities and thicknesses of the metal — sharps and fiats, alto, treble and bass. There is the sharp clear tone of the highly-tempered steel in the tools used ; the solid and defiant ring of the sole-bar or headstock, strong and firm under the hammer of the " puUer-up," the dull, flat sound of the floor plates, the loud hollow noise of the " covered goods " sides and ends, and the deep heavy boom of the roofs of the vans. Everyone seems to be striking as hard and as quickly as he is able. All the blows fall at once, and yet everything is in a jumble and tangle, loud, vicious, violent, confused and chaotic — a veritable pandemonium. And then, to crown the whole, there are the pneumatic tools, the chipping and riveting machines. It is dreadful ; it is overpowering ; it is unearthly ; but it has to be borne, day after day and year after year. Yet even the frame shed must yield to the boiler shop in the matter of concentrated noise. The din produced by the pneumatic machines in cutting out the many hundreds of rivets and stays inside a boiler is quite appalling. There is nothing to be compared with it. The heaviest artillery is feeble considered with it ; thunder is a mere echo. What is more, the noise of neither of these is continuous, while the operation with- in the boiler lasts for a week or more. The boiler, in a great degree, contains the sound, so that even if you were a short distance away, though the noise there would be very great, you could have no idea of the intensity of the sound within. Words could not express it ; language fails to give an adequate idea of the terrible detonation and the staggering effect produced upon whosoever will venture to thrust his head within the aperture of the boiler fire-box. Do you hear anything ? 72 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY You hear nothing. Sound is swallowed up in sound. You are a hundred times deaf. You are transfixed ; your every sense is paralysed. In a moment you seem to be encompassed with an unspeakable silence — a deathUke vacuity of sound altogether. Though you shout at the top of your voice you hear nothing — nothing at all. You are deaf and dumb, and stupefied. You look at the operator ; there he sits, stands or stoops. You see his movements and the apparatus in his hands, but everything is absolutely noiseless to you. It is Uke a dumb show, a dream, a phantasm. So, for a httle while after you withdraw your head from the boiler, you can hear nothing. You do not know whether you are upon your head or your heels, which is the floor and which is the roof. The ground rises rapidly underneath you and you seem to be going up, up, up, you know not where. Then, after a httle while, when ^-ou have re- moved from the immediate vicinity of the boiler, you feel to come to earth again. Your senses rush upon you and you are suddenly made aware of the terrific noise you have encountered. Even now, it will be some time before the facult}^ of hearing is properly restored ; the fearful noise rings in your ears for hours and days afterwards. And what of the men who have to perform the work ? It is said that they are used to it. That is plainly begging the question. They have to do it, whether they are used to it or not. It is useless for them to com- plain ; into the boiler they must go, and face the music, for good or ill. All the men very soon become more or less deaf, and it is inconceivable but that other ailments must necessarily follow. The complete nervous S3^stem must in time be shattered, or seriously impaired, and the individual become something of a wi'eck. This is one of the many ills resulting from progress in machinery and modern manufacturing appUances, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 73 The personnel of the frame shed is individual and distinct in a very marked degree. Most of the men seem to have been chosen for their great strength and fine physique, or to have developed these qualities after their admission to the work. The very nature of the toil tends to produce strong limbs and brawny muscles. It is certain that continual exercise of the upper parts of the body by such means as the lifting of heavy sub- stances tends to improve the chest and shoulders, and many of those who are engaged in lifting and carrjdng the plates and sole-bars are very stout and square in this respect. There is a number of " heavy weights," and a few positive giants among them, though the majority of the men are conspicuous, not so much by their bulk, as by their squareness of limb and muscularity. A proof of the strength of the frame shed men may be seen in the success of their tug-of-war teams. Wherever they have competed — and they have gone throughout the entire south of England — they have invariably beaten their opponents and carried off the trophies. There was formerly a workman, an ex-Hussar, named Bryan, in the shed, who could perform extraordinary feats of strength. He was nearly seven feet in height and he was very erect. His arms and limbs were solid and strong ; he was a veritable Hercules, and his shoulders must have been as broad as those of Atlas, who is fabled to have borne the world on his back. It was striking to see liim lift the heavy headstocks, that weighed two hundredweights and a quarter, with perfect ease and carry them about on his shoulder — a task that usually required the powers of two of the strongest men. This he continued to do for many years, not out of bravado, but because he knew it was within his natural powers to perform. Notwithstanding his tremendous normal strength, however, he was subject 74 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY to attacks of ague, and you might have seen him some- times stretched out upon the ground quite helpless, groan- ing and foaming at the mouth. If he had been work- ing in the shed recently, since the passing of the new Factory Acts, he would have been promptly discharged, for no one is kept at the works now who is subject to any infirmity that might incapacitate him in the shed among the machinery. Later on, when work got slack, Bryan was turned adrift from the factory, a broken and a ruined man. All his past services to the firm were forgotten , he was cast off like an old shoe. However valuable and extraordinary a man may have proved himself to be at his work, it counts for Httle or nothing with the foremen and managers ; the least thing puts him out of favour and he must go. The men of the frame shed are of a cosmopolitan order, though to a less extent than is the case in some depart- ments. The work being for the most part rough and requiring no very great skill, there has consequently been no need of apprenticeships, though there are a few who have served their time as waggon-builders or boiler-smiths. They are not recognised as journeymen here, however, and so must take their chance with the rank and file. Promotion is supposed to be made according to merit, but there are favourites everywhere who will somehow or other prevail. The normal order of promotion is from labourer to " puller-up," from puller-up to riveter, and thence to the position of charge- man. Here he must be content to stop, for foremen are only made about once or twice in a generation, and when the odds on any man for the post are high, surprise and disappointment always follow. The first is usually relegated to the rear, and the least expected of all is brought forward to fill the coveted position. It may be design, or it may be judgment, and perhaps it is LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 75 neither. It very often looks as though the matter had been decided by the toss of a coin, or the drawing of lots, and that the lot had fallen upon the least quahfied, but there is no questioning the decision. The old and tried chargeman, who knows the scale and dimensions of everything that has been built or that is likely to be built in the shed in his lifetime, must stand aside for the raw youth who has not left school many months, but who, by some mysterious means or other, has managed to secure the favour and indulgence of his foreman, or other superior. Perhaps he is reckoned good at arithmetic, or can scratch out a rough drawing, though more than hkely his father was gardener to someone, or cleaned the foreman's boots and did odd jobs in the scullery after factory hours. Another reason for the selection of young and com- paratively unknown men for the post of foreman is that they will have a smaller circle of personal mates in the shed, and, consequently, a less amount of human kindness and sympathy in them. That is to say, they will be able to cut and slash the piecework prices with less compunction, and so the better serve the interests of the company. The young aspirant, moreover, will be at the very foot of the ladder, hot and impetuous, while the elder one will have passed the season of senseless and unscrupulous ambition. A feature of the frame shed is the rivet boy. It is his duty to hot the rivets in the forge for his mates and to perform sundry other small offices, such as fetching water from the tap in the shed, or holding a nail bag in front of the rivet head which is being cut away, in order to keep it from flying and causing injury to any of the workmen. The forges for hotting the rivets are fixtures and are suppHed with air through pipes laid beneath the ground from the fan under the wall. Several boys 76 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY usually work from one fire, and there is often a scramble for the most advantageous position in the coals. An iron plate is used to facihtate the heating. This has been perforated with holes at the punch to allow its receiving as many rivets as are required. It is then placed over the whitehot coke in the forge and the rivets inserted. Each boy has a certain number of holes allotted to him and he must not trespass on liis mates' territory. It sometimes happens that one of the boys proves to be a bully and a terror and plays ducks and drakes with the rights and privileges of the others. This is always a matter of great concern to the juveniles, and they will not be satisfied till the tyrant has been humbled and punished. They have many minor differences and quarrels among themselves, and challenges to fight are frequent. Honour looms big in the eyes of the rivet boys, and they are quick to resent a taunt or affront and to wipe off all aspersions. Perhaps a sneer has been levelled at one by reason of his name, his father's occu- pation, or the name of the street or locahty in which he hves. With true pluck the matter is taken up. An hour and a place for the meeting are fixed : it is generaUy— " Meet me in the Rec at dinner-time." There they accordingly assemble wdth their mates and supporters and fight the matter out. It is usually a rough-and-tumble proceeding, but they do not desist till one or the other has been worsted and honour satis- fied. Moie than once it has happened that they have been so intent on the match they have lost count of the time and have all — a dozen or more — got locked out for the afternoon. This requires some explanation, and the next day the whole circumstance has to be related. Here the boys' fathers might interfere and administer a sound CO! recti ve lesson to each one of them. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 77 Getting locked out is also verj^ often the result of over-staying at football, which is regularly practised by the youngsters in the recreation field all the year round. The boys club together and buy a ball and race out to play every dinner-time. There, for three-quarters of an hour, they exert themselves to the utmost and are forced to run back to the shed at the top of their speed, often returning in an exhausted condition, A spell of five minutes puts them right, however, and they go on with their work as though they had enjoyed an infinite period of refreshment. In the evening they race home to tea and afterwards go out again while it is daylight, never seeming too tired for sport and play. Many queer nicknames, such as "Bodger," "Snowball," "Granny," "Chucky," and "Nanty Pecker," are in vogue among the boys. These become fixtures and remain with them for many years. It must not be thought that all the rivet boys submit to become permanent hands in the shed. A good many of them, as soon as they are sufficiently old and big, go to the recruiting sergeant and try to enhst. Some enter the Army and others the Navy ; some go this way and some that. Very often boys who spent their early days at rivet- hotting in the shed and enter the Service, return in after years to obtain another start in the old quarters, and grow old amid the scenes of their boyhood. Some never return at all, but die, either in battle, of sickness, or other accident. More than one, too, has gone the wrong way in fife and ended in suicide. The boys are much given to reading cheap literature of the " dreadful " type, and they revel in the deeds of Buffalo Bill, Deadwood Dick, and other well-known heroes of fiction. Sometimes a boy, unknown to his parents, actually possesses a firearm — a pistol or re- volver — and, with a group of companions, scours the 78 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY countryside round about in search of " game." Once, at least, mischief was done in the shape of bursting open a letter-box with bullets, and at another time a poor calf received a bullet-shot through the hedgerow. This last-named deed, however, was purely accidental. Great fear fell upon the juveniles after this untoward experience and the pistol was forthwith cast into the canal. At another time a careless lad shot himself through the hand with a pistol and inflicted a dangerous wound. A great change has come over the frame shed during the last twelve years. The old foreman has gone ; a great many of the old hands have disappeared also, and the methods of work have been revolutionised. The prices have been cut again and again ; a different spirit prevails ever^^where ; it is no longer as it used to be. Considerable liberty and many small privileges were allowed to the men by the governing staff in those days, and the foreman, if he felt disposed, could do much to make them comfortable and satisfied. Then the overseer was practically master of his shed and could make his own terms with the workmen, though it is only fair to remember that under those conditions he was sometimes inclined to be summary and despotic. The old foreman of the frame shed was an excellent example of this kind of overseer. As an engineer he was clever, intelligent, sharp-sighted, and energetic. In addition to this he was a good judge of character, a natural leader of men., and one strongly sympathetic. If he was in want of new hands he needed not to ask a dozen ridiculous questions, or to stand upon any kind of ceremony ; he came, saw, and decided at once. One glance was sufficient for him ; he had summed the man up in an instant. In the shed he was free, easy and spontaneous, praising and blaming in the same breath. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 79 At one moment he was livid with passion ; the next he was kind, concihative, and condescending. His temper was hot and fiery. When he frowned at you his ex- pression was as black as a thunder-cloud, but you knew that everything would soon be well again. His be- haviour was at least open and genuine, and whatever his attitude to his superiors might have been, he was free from dissimulation with the workmen. Nothing escaped his attention in the shed. As he walked his eagle eye comprehended aU, If a stanchion or girder was in the least out of square he perceived it, and it had to be put right immediately. He never made himself too cheap and common with the workmen, but held himself in such a relation to them that he could always command respect. He often came to the shed late and left early, but there was then no rigid law compelling the foreman to be for ever at his post, and the work usually proceeded the same. He was an inventor himself, and he was always ready to encourage independent thought and action among his workmen. He recognised merit and rewarded it. He was not jealous of his workmen's brains, and he was at all times willing to consider an opinion and to act upon it if it seemed preferable to his own. He was a mixture of the fatherly ruler and the despot, but he was very proud of Ms men and he lauded them up to the skies to outsiders, whenever an opportunity presented itself. There was nothing they could not make, and make well, according to him. If he blamed them to themselves he stoutly defended them against others, and he would not have dreamed of selUng and betraying them to the management, as is commonly done at this time. Of the boys he was extremely fond, and especially of such as were well-behaved and attentive, however 8o LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY ragged and rough their dress might be, and he often stood and talked to them with his hand on their shoulder, or gave them pennies or marbles. But if he saw one of the " terribles " bullying a younger lad he ran up to him and gave him a sound cuff, or a vigorous kick. Under his foremanship work was plentiful and wages were high. The shed was nearly always on overtime, and money flowed Uke water. The men bore the strain of the overtime complacently. They worked without fear'and turned out a hundred, or a hundred and twenty waggon frames a week. Those were prosperous days for the frame shed and many a one saved a little pile from his earnings. Together with all this, however, the foreman dis- covered some remarkable characteristics and he was possessed of the most amazing effrontery. If strangers connected with other firms came in to inspect the plant and process and to know the prices of things, he hood- winked them in every possible manner and told them astounding fables. He would take up an article in his hand, describe it with pride, and tell them it was made for a fifth of what it actually cost to produce. If the manager came through and any awkward questions were asked, he skilfully turned the point aside and motioned secretly to the men to support him if they should be consulted. He hated all interference and would not stand patronage even from his superiors, and where argument failed clever manoeuvring saved the situation. Whatever he saw in the shape of machinery he coveted for his own shed. More than once he was known actually to purloin a machine from the neighbour foreman's shop in the night and transfer it to his own premises. Once a very large driUing machine, new from the maker and labelled to another department at the works, came into LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 8i the yard by mistake, but it never reached its proper destination. Calling a gang of men, he removed the drill from the truck, caused a foundation to be made for it, fixed it up in a corner half out of sight, and had it working the next morning. A hue and cry was raised up and down and around the yard for the missing machine, but it was not discovered till a long time after- wards. It still stands in the shed, a proof of one of the most brazen and impudent thefts possible. At another time three large drop-hammers were shunted near the shed, and on seeing them he quickly had them unloaded, but he was not successful in retaining them. On being discovered he made profuse apologies for his " mistake " and there the matter ended. At last he fell into the disfavour of someone and defiantly handed in his resignation. Now everything proceeds upon formally approved hues, though many a one wishes the old foreman were still in his place, grumbhng and scolding, and pushing things forward as in the days ago. CHAPTER VI THE SMITHY — THE SMITH — BUILDING THE FIRE — GALLERY MEN — APPRENTICES — THE OLDEST HAND — DEATH OF A SMITH — ^THE SMITH's ATTITUDE TO HIS MATES — HIS GREAT GOOD-NATURE — THE SMITHS' FOREMAN Adjoining the frame - building shed is the waggon smithy, where the thousand and one details for brake systems for the carriages and waggons, and other articles and uses are manufactured. Here, also, all kinds of repairs are executed, and a great number of tools of every description made for the permanent way men and for other workshops round about. It is said that the forge is the longest in England, and this is probably correct. It is shghtly under two hundred yards in length, and it contains one hundred fires. These are built at equal distances, on each side of the shed, with crowns like large bee-hives, and the chimneys are joined in with the walls. Every fire is supphed with a bosh- ful of water in which to cool the various tools, and there is also a tap and a rubber pipe for damping the coals. Behind the forge is a recess for the coke, which is crushed by machines outside and wheeled in ready for use. Above this is a rack for the tongs and tools, of which the smith possesses a considerable number. They are of all sorts and sizes, capable of holding and shaping every conceivable article. Of tongs there are flat-bits, hoUow-bits, and claws large and small, with sets and " set-tools," " fullers," flatters, punches, " jogglers," and many others with no specific title but 82 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 83 conveniently named by the brawny fellow who uses them. Standing in one corner, or soaking in the water of the bosh, are large and small sledges and one or two wooden maUets. Every fire has its sieve or " riddle," as it is called, for sifting the coke before it is put in the forge, for every particle of dust must be removed from the fuel so as to obtain a clear, bright heat. If there is welding to be done the coke will have to be broken up small — about the size of a walnut — with the mallet, in order to concentrate the heat, and to aUowof the iron being easily moved in the fire and well-covered with the fuel. The task of making up the fire falls upon the smith's mate or striker. Perhaps, if the piece of work is of big dimensions, two fires are needed ; if it is small or moderate-sized, one will be sufficient. It is the mate's duty to get everything ready for the smith. First of all the clinker is removed and the dust taken out from the centre of the fire with an iron shovel. The live coals are now raked to the middle and the blast appUed. When this is performed the fresh coke is " riddled " up, and carefully distributed in the forge. Every smith is very particular as to the shape of Ms fire. In general disposition it will be high at the back with the corners — right and left — well filled, rather fuU in front and even in the centre. If the weather is hot and the coke dry it may receive a good watering — once before the smith begins his heat, and several times during the operation. A good smith will be sparing of water, however, for too much of it makes the fke burn too fiercely in the centre, contracts the area of heat and causes the iron to be dirty and slimy. The harder the coke, the better it is, and the more briUiant the heat will be. Soft coke is soon consumed and completely reduced to dust, while good, hard coke wiU last a considerable time in the fire. It must not be assumed that the smith is idle while 84 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY his mates are employed in renovating the forge. He is busy preparing his tools and taking dimensions of the job to be made, and pondering on the best means of doing it. For this he usually has a large board whitened with chalk, upon which he sketches out the article and by means of which he determines the best method of forming his bends and angles. He may not be much of an artist, but in his rude way he will make a very com- mendable drawing of his job and will thus be enabled to determine beforehand exactly what to do to effect it, just the time to begin his tapers and angles, the direction of the bend, and the tools for doing it. He never leaves the method undetermined till he has his iron on the anvil, but takes pains to have everything settled and every phase of the operation well in view before he begins it. It is the inferior or the unintelligent workman alone that heats his iron and trusts to a chance idea to complete the job. Meanwhile the cloth cap has been removed from the head, and the waistcoat and braces hung up behind the forge. The long leathern apron is produced from the wooden tool-chest and tied around the waist, or fastened with the belt, about three inches of the top of the trousers being often turned down outside. The smith's trousers are usuaUy of blue serge, and they are made very loose and baggy, so as to allow of much stooping. The strikers more frequently use aprons made of canvas or of old thin refuse leather that has been stripped from the worn-out carriages and horse-boxes and consigned to the scrap-heap. While the finishing touches are being put to the forge the burly smith takes his can and goes to the tap for a drink of water. Arrived there he fills the vessel, removes the quid of tobacco from his cheek — a great many smiths chew tobacco — raises the can to his hps, rinses out his mouth once or twice and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 85 spouts the water out again to a great distance. Then he takes a long drink, fills the can again and carries it back to the forge, where he hands it to his mates, or sets it down for future refreshment. By this time the iron wiU have been placed in the forge and the blast appHed by the strikers. The sets also will have been ground, the shafts of the hammers examined and the wedges tightened. The floor, too, wiU be cleanly swept round about, for the smith is most particular in the matter of neatness and will not have loose ashes and cinders, or other rubbish, lying under his feet. A light, square table, sometimes of wood and sometimes of iron plate, is set by the anvil, and of a height with it, to contain the tools. A handful of birch, bound together after the manner of a little besom, is placed conveniently upon the table. This is used for brushing the heat when it comes from the coals, and for removing the dust and scale from the anvil. As the blast rushes through the pipe from underground and into the forge it roars loudly, sounding in the coke Hke a strong wind among trees. Long, yellow flames rise and leap high up the chimney, and the air around is filled with clouds of dust and sulphur fumes from the burning coke. As the heat of the fire increases this diminishes ; in a short time the gaseous properties are entirely consumed and there is no smell of any kind. Our smith is a perfect giant in stature. In height he is well over six feet, solid and erect, with tremendous shoulders and limbs. His head is massive and square, with broad deep forehead and bushy brows. His grey eyes, frank and fearless, are rather deeply inset. The nose is Roman and slightly crooked ; the mouth, with thick Ups a Httle relaxed, is pleasant and kind. He has a heavy, bronze moustache, a clean shaven chin and plump, ruddy cheeks. The whole countenance, is 86 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY square, and exhibits the marks of good-nature and honest character. His ponderous arms are hard and brown, full of rigid bone and muscle, and his hands are large and horny with continual holding of the tongs and hammer. His breast is remarkably broad and hairy — his woollen shirt is always thrown open at work ; he has hips and belly like an ox, legs like those of an elephant, and large flat feet, and he weighs more than eighteen stone. When he walks his motion is rather slow and deliberate. He goes heavy on his soles, and his shoulders rise and fall alternately at every step he takes. He is at all times steady and cool, and he seems never to be in a hurry. At the anvil he gives one the same impression, so that a stranger might even think him to be sluggish and dilatory, but he is in everything sure and unerring, never too soon or too late. Every action is well-timed ; nothing is either over- or under- done. He performs all his heats with a minimum amount of labour. Where a nervous or spasmodical person would require forty or fifty blows to shape a piece of metal he will accomplish it with about twenty-five. His masterly eye and calculating brain are ever watchful and alert. He understands the effect of every blow given, and while the less experienced smith is still en- gaged with his piece nearly black-hot, his is finished, com- plete, with the metal still yellow or bright red. He moves always at the same pace, and his work is of a uniformly superlative character. When strangers are about, watch- ing him at his weld, he makes no difference whatever in his usual methods of procedure, but behaves just as coolly and deliberately and takes no notice of any man. Some smiths and forgemen, on the other hand, hate to be watched at work by strangers — " foreigners," as they call them — and very quickly give evidence of their dislike and irritation. They will every now and then LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 87 dart an angry look at the visitors, and, after using the tools, throw them down roughly, muttering under their breath and telling the strangers to " clear off," though not sufficiently loud to be heard. By and by the un- offending strikers will come in for a castigation ; what- ever kind of blow they strike it will be wrong for their mate. At last he shuts off the blast from the forge, and, laying down his hammer, turns his back towards the " interlopers," and waits till they have passed on up the shed. After their departure he resumes his labour and quickly makes up for the lost time. Some smiths, again, though extremely nervous under the eye of a stranger, do not object to being watched, while others positively Hke the attention. Such as these are always anxious, under the circumstances, to impress the stranger with their great skill and dexterity in the use of tools and in twisting and turning the iron about on the anvil. They are the " gallery men." As soon as visitors appear afar off they begin to prepare for an exhibition. The blast is steadied down, or shut off, and the fire is cooled round. The tools are all most conveniently disposed upon the anvil or table, and every- thing is made ready for a " lightning " weld. The strikers are as well agreed as the smith, and brace them- selves up for an extra special effort. They wait till the visitors are nearly opposite them and certain of viewing the operation. Then on goes the blast, roaring loudly in the firebox, while the smith, with the perspira- tion streaming down his brow and cheeks, turns his heat over and over in the forge and glances quickly across to take care that he is ready at the right moment. The visitors notice the unusual activity of the men at the fire and stand still, waiting to see the heat. This is the signal for the iron to leave the coals. With exaggerated celerity the sections of metal are withdrawn from the 88 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY forge and brought to the anvil. The fused parts are clapped smartly together, the striker throws down his tongs viciously, grips his hammer and, following the directions of his mate, rains a shower of blows on the spluttering iron. The sparks whizz out, and reach the visitors, singeing the dresses of the ladies — if there happen to be any among them — and causing them to cry out and step backwards a few paces, while the anvil rings merrily under the blows. Now the smith lays down his own hammer quickly and takes up the steel tool for finishing and squaring the heat. His mate follows, striking rapidly, at all angles, heavy and light, light and heavy, according to what is required, though the smith utters not a word during the process, for the whole routine is known by heart. Over and over the piece is jerked on the anvil — a fine flourish being given to each movement — until it is finished. Upon its com- pletion the smith hands it to the striker, who receives it dexterously and places it on the ground, or in the pile, the pair of them looking several times at the visitors as much as to ask them if they do not think the job well and quickly done, and begging a compliment. The visitors usually accord them an admiring glance in recognition of their prowess and pass on up the forge. The gallery men are smart and quick by nature, and are fairly sure of being successful in " exhibition " work. The slightest blunder would spoil the whole act and make them appear ridiculous, consequently none but those who are really skilful ever attempt the business. The average smith, however, and especially the one we have in view, never breaks his rule or goes out of his way to obhge visitors, but continues at a steady, uniform rate. The workman who is showy and energetic before visitors is often remiss when they have gone by ; it is the continual plodder that gets LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 89 through the most work in the long run. The visitor, moreover, if he is gifted with an ordinary amount of insight and commonsense, may easily recognise the superior workman and discriminate between the genuine and the superficial effort. Occasionally, when strangers pass through, after such a performance as I have de- scribed, the striker, more in jest than in earnest, throws his cap at the feet of the visitors, suggesting that a tip would be welcomed. It is but fair to say that the hint is seldom or never taken. Though the striker, or inside mate, must perform the task of preparing the fire for the smith, he is no longer responsible for it. Henceforth the smith takes it under his care, and only hands it over to his mate when the heat is finished and a stop has to be made to renew the forge. If the job upon which he is engaged is of any dimensions and two fires are needed, that will make it increasingly hard for the strikers. The heaviest work is naturally more usually assigned to the strongest men, though the rule of adaptability also holds here and the various jobs are given to those who have proved themselves to be the most efficient at them. Of the smiths, some are famed for their skill in one direction, and some for their ability in another. This job requires strength, that speed and cleverness, and another needs a combination of all those qualities and is difficult to do at any time. Occasionally it transpires that an inferior smith has been kept at one class of work for such a long time that he gets out of touch with the other jobs in the shed, and would shape awkwardly if he were suddenly called upon to undertake something new and unusual to him. This is a mistake not often committed by the foreman, however. He periodically changes and interchanges the work and so gets the smiths accustomed to many and miscellaneous toils. 90 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY The skilled and clever smith wiU be at home any- where and everywhere. He will do anything, anyhow, and by any method you please, for he is a complete master of the trade. He will make all kinds of tools with the utmost ease and simplicity. He will also forge chains, wheels, joints, and levers, work in iron or steel, in " T " stuff, or angle iron ; every conceivable shape and form of work is subject to his operation. If you put him at the steam-hammer he is still at home ; he will forge out an ingot or bloom with the best man on the ground. All the lightest work falls upon the young apprentices and the very old men, who are too feeble to undertake heavy and trying tasks, but are yet far too valuable to be dispensed with altogether. The apprentices perform such work as simple setting and bending, the making of bolts and eyes, rings and hnks for chains and so on. They usually come to the work at the age of sixteen, and stay for five or six years, when they voluntarily hand in their notices and migrate to other towns. There they are received as improvers, or as journeymen, and are forthwith paid the trade rate of wages. This varies considerably in many localities, and it is to be noted that railway sheds almost always provide the very lowest wages. Since the work is constant and sure, however, and is not subject to the many fluctuations of the contract shop, the stability of employment is counted a certain compensation for lower wages, and the majority of smiths accept the conditions philosophically. The young apprentices are strong and sturdy, and in- variably of a sound constitution ; one never sees a sickly- looking youth taking up the occupation of smithing. This accounts for the fine physique and often big propor- tions of the senior smith ; the reason being that the youths chosen were hardy and suitable, and showed signs of physical development. The sons of smiths usually LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 91 choose the trade of their fathers and follow in their foot- steps. There is consequently often a hereditary quality in the workman ; they have been a family of smiths for generations. The smiths, provided they are strong and healthy, are usually retained at the forge till they have reached the age of seventy when, under the present rule, they are required to leave. Even this is a kind of con- cession to them, for, generally speaking, the other workmen are turned off long before they reach such an advanced age. The smith's usefulness, even in his age, is the cause of this ; though feeble, he is still able to do good work and to help with his knowledge and ex- perience. He is usually employed at tool-making, or at other hght occupations. His poor old hand, almost as hard as iron, shakes with the weight of the hammer ; his head trembles visibly, and his legs totter beneath him. He comes in early in the morning, in order to avoid the crush. He brings his meals with him and eats them in the forge, and he is the last going out at night. In his decline he is forced to live near the works — only a street or so from the entrance — and even then it takes him a long time to hobble to and fro. In the evening and at week-ends he usually stays at home to rest, or he may possibly look in to see a friend, or to take a mug of ale at the neighbouring inn. It is a sad day for him when he receives intelligence of his discharge. Feeble as he is become, he has a real affection for the smithy, and is never so happy as when he is at his forge and anvil. As long as he can drag himself backwards and forwaids, see the old faces, and snuff the breath of the fires, he is content. His health, too, which has been maintained by the constant exercise of his trade, is passable while he can do a little work. When he is forced to lie idle, and to forego his regular habit 92 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY of early rising and the exertion of his muscles with the hammer, that suffers as a matter of course. His joints forthwith become stiff and set ; his httle store of strength, instead of increasing with the change, wastes and declines. In a very short while he is dead, and his old bones are haled away to the cemetery on top of the hill. A number of his mates and fellow-smiths follow him to the grave and witness the last rites, not for the sake of formalit5^ but out of pure friendship and respect. His name is certain to live long in the annals of the smithy. The oldest hand in the forge at the present time is aged sixty-eight, though there were recently several above this age who have now been placed on the retired list or superannuated by their societies. He has led a hard Ufe, and affords a verj'' good example of the aver- age type of smith. He was apprenticed at Cheltenham and made a journeyman at Gloucester. From that city he passed on to Worcester, and went thence to Birmingham, working for about a year at each place. Afterwards he migrated to Sheffield — the home of furnaces and forges — and shifted thence in turn to Liverpool, Lancaster, Rotherham, Durham, and several other manufacturing centres, setthng finally in the railway town. He has brought up a big family and seen them all established in life. Of his sons several are smiths ; one is in America, one in Africa, and one at home in England. He has saved enough money to buy his house, and he has a few pounds besides, so that he has no fear of being reduced to want. He has w^orked hard and lived well, and he has always drunk his glass of ale. He is associated with several bodies and com- mittees, and he has presented a bed to the local hospital out of his earnings, with the natural condition that smiths have the first claim upon it. Though his hand is a little unsteady with continual use of the tools, he LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 93 can still manage a fair day's work. He is very proud of his trade and takes great delight in telling you of his travels and adventures. Every summer he passes the examination of old smiths made by the works' manager to see that they are fit for duty, and he still looks forward to years of activity at the forge. Nearly all the smiths live in the town and within easy reach of their work. A few only of their number have had a rustic apprenticeship. The great majority of those in the shed have learnt the rudiments of their trade in factories, and have migrated from place to place. By living in the midst of large towns and cities, they have become almost indifferent to surroundings and are able to make themselves happy and comfortable in the most crowded and uncongenial situations. For the beauties of external nature they care but little ; they appear to be wholly wrapt up in and concerned with their own vocation. They nearly all belong to unions and organisations, and are the most independent of men, though they do not make a great parade of the fact. Their independence is born of self-confidence — the knowledge of their own usefulnesss and worth, and the strength of their position. If they should choose to leave one place they are certain of getting employ- ment elsewhere, for a good smith is never out of work for long together. Other trades suffer considerably through slackness of employment, but there is a con- stant demand for smiths and hammermen. The fact is that fewer smiths and forgemen are made, in pro- portion to their numbers, than is the case with some other trades. The work is hard and laborious, and the life must be one of toil and sacrifice. Although some smiths drink an enormous quantity of cold water at the forge there are others who seldom taste a drop of the liquid. If you ask them the reason 94 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY why, they will teU you that it is not a wise plan to di'ink much cold water at work. They say that it causes cramp in the stomach, colds, rash, and itching of the skin, and add that it makes them sweat very much more than they would otherwise do. The more you drink, they say, the more you want to drink, and it is but a habit acquired. If you care to use yourself to it you may work in the greatest heat and feel very few ill effects from it if you are abstemious in the taking of liquids. At the same time, the majority of smiths do drink water, and that copiously, and seem to thrive well upon it. Such as do this, and are fat and weU, when spoken to upon the matter, always smile broadly and tell you it is the result of having a contented mind and of drinking plenty of cold water. It is certain that those who drink most perspire most, but that does not appear to hurt them in the least, and you often hear it said by a workman who is not addicted to perspiring freely that he feels very " stuffy " and con- gested and that he should be better if he could sweat more. A delightful feehng is experienced after a good sweating at work. Every nerve and tissue seems to be aglow with intensest hfe ; the blood courses through the body and hmbs freely and vigorously, and produces a sense of unspeakable physical pleasure. Sweating as the result of physical exercise has a powerful effect upon the mind, as well as upon the body ; it clears the vision and invigorates the brain, and is a perfect medicine for many ailments, both mental and physical. If many of the languid and indolent, who never do any work or indulge in sturdy exercise, were suddenly to rouse them- selves up and do sufficient physical labour, either for themselves or for someone else, to procure a good sweat- ing at least twice a week, they would feel immeasurably better for it. Life would have a new meaning for them. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 95 They would eat better, rest better, and sleep better. They would feel fresher and stronger, altogether more active and vigorous, more sympathetic and satisfied. Though he is, as a rule, quite unaware of it, the work- man derives considerably more physical pleasure from Ufe than do those persons, mistakenly envied, who do nothing, for everything has a relish to him, while to the others all is flat and insipid. Truly work is the salt of hfe, and physical work at that, though there is a most passionate desire in many quarters to be well rid of it. The majority of the smiths, even though they do not drink much cold water in the forge, are fond of a glass of ale ; there are very few teetotalers among them. No one would wish to imply by this that they are " wettish customers." The very nature of their work makes them thirsty, and though they constrain their appetites while they are at the fires, nevertheless when they come to the town they feel bound to go in some- where or other and " wet the whistle," as they term it. After a hot turn in the shed the foaming ale goes down with a dehcious rehsh and the smith feels that he is entitled to enjoy that pleasure, considering how hard he has toiled all day in the heat and dust. There is also the evening paper to be read, after which follows a chat with his mate, and all the hard toil is for the moment forgotten. Rested and refreshed, the man of the forge goes home to his wife and children and par- takes of a good tea, feeling very fit and on excellent terms with himself and others. It is rather remarkable that smiths do not smoke very much tobacco. In the use of the weed they are very moderate, though the strikers and mates easily make up for the deficiency. Every day, after having their meals in the smithy, they walk out into the town or stand under the bridge to " have a draw " and read 96 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY the morning newspaper, returning leisurely about ten minutes before it is time to start work again. To his mates and strikers, while at the forge, the smith is rather quiet and reserved, often speaking very little and seldom discussing with them matters apart from the work. This is not out of any undue feeling of pride in himself or unsociableness, but because he is full of his work, and disinchned to talk much. Neither is he given to the discussing of pohtical and social problems and continually seeking an opportunity for holding an argument with this or that one. It is characteristic of him to view everything calmly and soberly ; he is imbued with the genuine philosophical temperament. It is a certain and invariable rule that the one who has the most ready tongue and is always ripe for an argu- ment is not the most energetic and proficient at his em- ployment. If such a one as this should desire to entangle the sturdy smith in a cobweb of discussion he is bluntly and unceremoniously told to " clear out," for he has no time to listen to such ' ' stuff. " Off the premises, however, he is friendly and indulgent to his mates and strikers. When he meets them in the town he stops and speaks to them and invites them to have a glass of ale at his expense. The religious beliefs of the smiths are not as well- known as are those of some classes of workmen, for they are not in the habit of discovering themselves to out- siders. Though he who has his forge in the village, under the old elm or spreading chestnut, may go regularly to church, there is no evidence to prove that those who dwell in the town imitate him in that respect. Their Sundays appear to be spent chiefly at home in rest and quietness, in company with their wives and families. A few, plainly and simply dressed — for the smith heartily hates all foppishness and superficial ornament — may be seen in the evening walking out towards the LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 97 fields. The majority, however, stay indoors and re- cuperate for the coming week's work, or merely go to see their friends who live a few streets away. But if they do not go to church or chapel they are far from being deficient in charitableness and true piety. They merely aim to live the best life they can and to do good wherever possible. Their reUgion is one of kindness to all ; they are at once large-hearted and broad-minded, honest, just, and hberal. Their sympathy for their fellows arises largely from the fact that they are well acquainted with hard toil ; they know what it is to work and sweat, to be hot and thirsty, beaten and tired. Theirs is no gentlemanly occupation, such as is that of some other journeymen ; not merely the theoretical exercise of a craft, but one that requires good, solid exertion, such as brings out all that is best in a man. A proof of their utter good-nature and kindness to their fellows may be seen in the fact of their having, for the last twenty years, made a voluntary weekly offering of a halfpenny per man to the local Cottage Hospital. This is taken once a fortnight, the condition being that it must be unsolicited and a straight gift. In twenty years the sum collected has amounted to over two hundred pounds. This is quite independent of the annual collections made for charities, in which the smiths again always head the fist by a large margin. There is no other example at the works of such spontaneous good-nature, and this will show, more than any words, the true characteristics of the brawny men at the forges. The smiths' foreman is the very personification of his class, and is a highly interesting study. He is of great stature— he is over six feet in height— with broad, square shoulders and large Umbs ; fleshy, but not cor- pulent. His forehead is wide and steep ; he has bushy brows, iron grey hair and beard, and red cheeks. His G 98 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY eyes are frank and honest ; liis voice deep and gruff, but not unkind ; and when he speaks to you he looks you fuU in the face. His whole figure is striking ; he towers above the majority of his workmen. His weight, as he tells you himself, with a mixture of pride and modesty and the suspicion of a smile, is nineteen stone six. After this he hastens to inform you that he is not the heaviest at his house, for his good wife turns the scale at twenty- two stone. He has been once married and is the father of a large family — nineteen in all — twelve of whom are yet living. His age is well over sixty, and he will soon have to retire from the forge, though he is still hale and hearty, fond of a glass of good beer, and, as he frequently and forcibly tells you, he is " a great eater of beef." As for scholarship and culture, he makes no claim to either, for he never had the opportunity of much educa- tion, though he is a famous smith, and is gifted with the rare faculty of getting his men into a good hiunour and keeping them there. He is on good terms with all his staff ; is jealous of their interests, open and honest in his dealings with them, and he has the satisfaction of being respected in return. He is one of the old school, of a type that is nearly extinct now ; a bold defender of the rights of smiths, a hard and fast believer in the hand-made article. Naturally, for him, he is suspicious of all modern macliinery that tends to do away with the trade of the smithy, and he swears by the most un- breakable oaths that whatever is done by the newer systems of forging and stamping he is able to equal it on the anvil, both as regards strength and cheapness. When the managers recently attempted to bring about sweeping reductions in the prices throughout the smithy he opposed them at ever)^ point, swore that he was master in liis own shed, and that no one but he should be allowed to fix prices. " When I am gone you can LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 99 do just whatever you like, but I'm going to have a say in things as long as I'm about here," said he. On the managers insisting to cut the prices, he unceremoniously took off his coat, and, turning up his shirt-sleeves, presented the representative with a pair of tongs and a hammer and challenged him to have a trial at the game himself. " Here's my fire, guvnor, and there's j^ourn. Come on with you and let's see what you can do, and if you can make it at your price I'll give in to you, but you'll never do it in the world." Only one or two prices fell in the whole shed. The managers abstained from further interference and since that time the smiths have been but very little molested. No one could walk through the forge and observe the splendid physique and bearing of the smiths, their skill and dexterity with the tools at the fires and anvil, without a feeling of pride and genuine admiration for them. They are a fine body of men, and their frankness and good-nature, their freedom from ostentation, and general straightforwardness impress one even more than do their physical quahties, and help to fix them more deeply and truly in his regard and esteem. They are not little and petty ; they are not spiteful and malicious. They are not jealous of each other's skill and position ; they are no tale-bearers. They seldom quarrel about poUtics or religion, or hold any other con- troversy in the shed or out of it. Their attitude to each other is fair and unquestionable ; they are natural and spontaneous, very free and generous. If proof is needed of this you have but to come into the smithy and see for yourselves. You will find it written in their faces in unmistakable characters. You will discover it in a greater degree if you converse with them. You will be completely satisfied as to their genuineness and quite convinced of the justice of these observations. CHAPTER VII FITTERS — THE STEAM-HAMMER SHOP — FORGEMEN — THEIR CHARACTERISTICS — BOILERMAKERS — THE FOUNDRY — THE BLAST FURNACE — MOULDERS There are two large fitting sheds at the works — for engine- and carriage-fitting. They differ in several respects but are on the whole consimilar, both in the nature of the work done and in the composition and in- dividuality of the staffs employed. The duties of the fitters are very well indicated by their denominative : they prepare and fit together all the machinery parts for the locomotives and carriages as well as the steam-brake details and other apparatus of a complicated nature. The sheds also serve as centres for supplying the other shops with their small staffs of fitters who superintend repairs to the local machinery, attend to the steam- hammers, fix new shafting, and so on. The fitting sheds are large buildings and are packed! with machinery of every conceivable shape and kind. \ Within them are lathes large and small, machines for ' slotting, shaping and drilling, drills for boring round and square holes, punches and shears, hydraulic tackle, and various other curious apphances almost incapable of description. There are hundreds of j^ards of steel shafting, pulleys and wheels innumerable, and miles of beltage. The space between the roof and the floor seems to be entirely occupied with swiftly-revolving wheels and belts. To view the interior is like peering into a dense forest where all is tangled and confused 100 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY loi and everything is in a state of perpetual motion. At the same time there is a minimum of noise. Here are no steam-hammers beating on the stubborn masses of iron and steel and making the foundations of the earth tremble beneath you, no riveters' hammers battering on the hollow plates of the frames and boilers, and no pneumatic tools ringing out sharply and driving one to distraction with the unspeakable din. The wheels revolve almost without sound ; the shafting turns and spins silently. The lathes are nearly noiseless in opera- tion, and the drills only creak a little now and then as a small portion of the detached metal becomes blocked underneath the tool and runs round with it. The greatest noise is made by those who are busily chipping at the benches ; otherwise there is comparative quiet when we remember the tremendous din of the neigh- bouring workshops. As there are no furnaces or forges in the fitting shed, and abundant ventilation, the air is cool and free from smoke and fume. The work is less laborious than is that of the smithy or frame shed, and the men are not required to perspire much. Both the fitters and the machinemen wear cloth suits, with a thin blue jacket or " slop " and overalls, and you rarely see them stripped or with their shirt-sleeves turned up. This is so much the rule that if they should be seen to take off their coats at a job in either of the outljdng sheds the circum- stance will be noted as of unusual occurrence by the rank and file. They will immediately raise a good- natured laugh and jokingly tell them to "put their jackets on if they don't want to catch a cold." One local fitter, by reason of his great fondness for carrying a drawing with him wherever he goes and the readiness and ease with \v^hich he has resort to it in order to ex» plain away thr most trivial detail, has earned for him- 102 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY self the title of " The Drawing King." A second, as the result of his artificial activity with the callipers, is styled " Calliper King," while a third, by his volubility, has secured the expressive nickname of " Fish-mouth." An amusing and true story is told of a chargeman of the fitting shed. He was lying seriously ill and believed himself to be at the point of death. While in that con- dition he was conscience-stricken at the thought that he had had one or two very good prices for work in the shed. He accordingly sent for his foreman to come and visit him. When he arrived the sick man unburdened his soul and begged him to cut the prices forthwith ; he said he " could not die with it on his mind." In due time the prices were cut. The old fellow's period had not yet come, however. He got better and had the satisfaction of returning to the shed and working at the reduced rates, the laughing-stock of his companions. The fitters are usually looked upon as the men par excellence of the shed. Like the smiths, they have usually travelled far. Some have visited every part of the kingdom, while others may have served abroad — in America, at the Cape of Good Hope, in China, or Egypt. A few have been artificers in the Navy or in the Mercantile Marine ; here is one, for instance, who, by reason of his nautical experiences^ has gained the nick- name of " Deep Sea Joe." It will commonly be found that those who have gone furthest from home are not only the best workmen — as having had a more varied and extensive experience — but they are also more broad-minded and sympathetic towards their mates and labourers. The majority of the fitters are members of Trades Unions, and of all other classes at the works, perhaps, they take the greatest pains to protect themselves and their interests. By contributing to the funds of their LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 103 organisations they are insured against accidents, strikes, or dismissal, and are thus placed in a position of con- siderable independence. They are required to serve an apprenticeship of five or seven years' duration before they are recognised as journeymen and they are, by a common rule, compelled to go furthci afield in order to obtain the standard rate of wages. Nearly all the fore- men of the different sheds are appointed fiom among the fitters ; whatever qualities an outsider may dis- cover he stands but Httle chance of being preferred for the post. Before a fitter has been promoted to the position of foreman he is a bold champion of the rights of Labour, one loud in the expression of his sympathy with his fellowmen, a staunch believer in the liberty of the in- dividual and a hearty condemner of the factory system. If he has been appointed overseer, however, there is a considerable change in his manner and attitude towards all these and kindred subjects. A great modification of his personal views and opinions soon follows ; he begins to look at things from the official standpoint. He is now fond of telling you that " things are not as they used to be." Possibly they are not, as far as he himself is concerned, but there is another view of the situation. At the same time, he will be fairly loyal to his old mates, the journeyman fitters, and treat them with superior respect. To the labourers, however, he will not be so well-disposed. He will ignore their in- terests and rule them with a rod of iron. I have said that steam-hammer forging is on the decline in the railway town. The chief cause of this is the recent development of the piocess of manufacturing malleable cast steel, which has largely taken the place of wrought iron forging both in the locomotive and elsewhere. Formerly all wheels were forged in sections and were 104 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY afterwards welded up, and the work provided constant emplojanent for the steam-hammer men. Now they are obtained elsewhere, more cheaply, it may be, though they are of an inferior quality. Engine-cranks also, which at one time were made exclusively on the premises, are nearly all bought away from the town, and this was a second great loss to the shed. All that remains is the manufacture of the less important details, such as connection rods and levers, with a few special or repair cranks now and then. The steam-hammer shed has thus been deprived of much of its importance. The big machines, capable of striking a blow equivalent to a hundred or two hundred tons' pressure, have been removed and put on the scrap- heap, and their places have been filled by other and less powerful plant. The old forgemen, too, with their mates who worked the furnaces, are missing. Of these, some are dead, some have been discharged, while others have been reduced and are scattered about the yard. He who formerly shouted out his orders at the steam- hammer and controlled the mighty mass of iron or steel with the porter, turning it round and round to receive the tremendous blow, is now hobbling about with a shovel and wheel-barrow, cleaning up the refuse of the yard, in receipt of a miserable pittance. Perhaps he is lame as the result of a blow, or he has a withered arm through its having been " jumped up " with the driving back of the porter, or he may have lost an eye. A portion of steel has fled from the hammer rod, or from the " ram," and struck him in the eye and he is blind as a consequence. Several years ago there was at the factory a splendid forger, a cool and highly-skilful workman, and one possessed of fine physique. He was tall, square and broad built, full of bone and muscle, soUd and strong, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 105 and, though of seventeen or eighteen stone in weight, he was very nimble and of unerring judgment. One day he received the offer of a job in the Midlands, at nearly double the wages he was getting in the railway town, and he decided to accept the post. Accordingly he left the shed and took over his new duties. He had not been away long, however, before he met with a serious accident that quite incapacitated him from following his occupation as a forgeman. A careless or unskilful hammer-driver had struck a terrific blow out of time, and the porter-bar, driven out suddenly, forced the forger's hand and arm violently to the shoulder, completely cripphng him. A ruined man, he came back to the town and gained a wretched livelihood by help- ing to serve the bricklayers and masons with his one arm. The steam-hammer forger is one of the most skilful and useful, as well as the most interesting of men. He may possibly have learned his trade in the town, or he may hail from Sheffield, Middlesborough, Scotland or Wales. AU these places are noted for extensive manu- factures in iron and steel and for the efficiency of their workmen, and especially of their forgers and furnace- men. If any forger in the shed is reputed to have come from the Midlands, the North, or the iron region of Wales, he is sure to be considered something of a pro- digy. He comes bearing with him a part of the laurels of his township and all eyes will be upon him to see how he acquits himself of the responsibihty. Very often, however, he quite fails to fulfil the expectations enter- tained of him and is easily beaten by the local men. After aU, it was but the name ; he is no better than many who have learned their trade in the shed. Per- haps he is not even as efficient as they, though he did come from " Ironopolis " and forged very many tons io6 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY of steel ingots in an incredibly short space of time, though this happened " years ago," if you chance to press him at all concerning the matter. The forger is not always a man of big physical pro- portions. On the contrary, he is more usually of a medium, or even of a diminutive type ; you seldom or never find one as stout and heavy as is the average smith. The nature of the toil forbids this. The smith, at his work, is more or less stationary. His forging, moreover, is not so heavy, nor is he exposed to such great heat. The forgeman's ingot may weigh four or five tons, all blazing hot, with a porter-bar of thirty hundredweight or more attached, and though this will be suspended from the crane and he will have several mates to help him, it will yet require the whole of their powers to remove it from the furnace to the hammer and to turn it over or push it backwards and forwards to receive the ponderous blow. But if the fprgeman is inferior to the smith in the matter of stature and bulk, he easily beats him in strength. He is a very Uon in this respect. Underneath his thin, shrunken cheeks and skinny arms are sinews almost as tough as steel itself. In the most bhnding and deadly heat of the furnace, with three or four tons of dazzhng metal ex- actly in front of him and the sweat pouring out of the hollows of his grimy cheeks and running down his nose and chin to drop in a continual stream on the ground beneath, he still pushes, heaves, and shouts loudly to his mates, and works and slaves quite unconcernedly. He is almost as fresh at the end of the operation as he was at the beginning. Nothing seems to tire him down ; he is for ever active and vigorous. The forgeman often proves to be a rather irritable individual, one sharp and sour to his mates and hasty in his temper. His companions at the hammer — with LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 107 the exception of the furnaceman — are so many children to him ; he orders them here and there with the shghtest ceremony and shouts out his orders at the top of his voice. At every command he utters they hasten to obey, fear- ing his testiness, and when he roars out at them they shake in their boots. Perhaps they are slow in handing him a tool, or they have applied the wrong gauge, or the hammer-driver has struck too hard a blow. What- ever it is, the forgeman's wrath is aroused and they must suffer for it. In his anger he calls them many names that could not be styled complimentary and withers them with looks. Then, whatever kind of blow the hammerman strikes, it will be wrong. If it is light, he wanted it heavy ; if heavy, he required it light — the mere suggestion of a blow. He will often, in the same breath, roar out at the top of his voice — " Hit 'im! Hit'im! Light! light! LIGHT!" and will immediately explode with passion because his order was not acted upon to the letter. By and by the ex- asperated hammer-driver will venture to reply to his autocratic mate, and a smart battle of words ensues, in which the forgeman, however, usually comes off best. The old furnaceman, greyheaded, or totally bald with the heat, will fire away with his coals and wink at the gaugeman now and then, but never a word will he utter. He knows his mate thoroughly, and understands his temper perfectly. Accordingly, he hears all and says nothing ; it makes but little difference to him which way the forging goes as long as he has performed his heat properly. Perhaps, after this, things may run a httle more smoothly for a time, or matters may even become worse. I have known mates to work at the same hammer and not speak to each other for a year, not even to give the necessary instructions as to carrying out the forging. io8 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY Though there could be no excuse for this fooUsh exhibition of ill-nature, many apologies may yet be made for the nervous and irritable forgeman. In the first place, his work is enormously hard and exacting ; and in the second, there is a great responsibility resting upon him which is not shared by his workmates. The value of the forging in his hands is often considerable, and the least error on the part of his furnaceman or hammer-driver might completely spoil it. If the metal should be in the slightest degree overheated it would burst all to pieces at the first blow of the hammer, and if the hammer-driver should happen to strike a heavy blow at a critical moment, he might spoil the piece in that way, or otherwise necessitate a considerable amount of labour to get it into shape again. AU this is a matter of serious care to the forgeman, and as his mates are very often raw hands or careless, dull-headed fellows, it is not to be wondered at that he should now and then discover some perverseness of temper. It is interesting to note the style of working adopted by different forgers. This, of course, will vary with the man's capabilit3^ for the job, his gift, his skill acquired, and his natural temper. All forgers are not possessed of a uniformity of skill and capacity, any more than are all musicians and painters equal in their arts ; wherever you go you will find good, bad and indifferent workmen. It may at once be said, however, that bad forgemen are not tolerated for any length of time. If they cannot handle the porter and bring their ingot or bloom to a successful finish they are quickly removed and better men put in place of them, for iron and steel ingots are too valuable to be wasted with impunity. As a rule, the quiet workman is the best ; that is, he who talks least to his mates, and who does not bawl out every order at the t'^p of his voice. Such a one vdll o^ter LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 109 remove his bloom from the furnace, bring it to the hammer and complete it without speaking a word. A nod of the head or a few motions of the hand will be sufficient ; his mates understand him perfectly and every- thing proceeds without a hitch. The hammer-driver, encouraged to use his discretion, knows exactly what kind of a blow to strike — heavy or light, light or heavy — when to stop and when to begin. The grimy mate, usually styled the donkeyman, stands by with the gauges ; at each pause he fits them to the white-hot mass of iron or steel and again the hammer descends, regularly and evenly. The tremendous " monkey " goes high up, almost out of sight overhead, and glides noiselessly downwards till it beats the metal, making the pulley chains rattle and jingle and the whole shed to totter and tremble. I have often sat on a gate, or under the trees in the fields on a still evening, towards midnight, and counted the blows struck on an obstinate forging in the shed five miles distant. It is a pleasure to watch the skilful forgeman perform his heat and shape the ponderous bloom under the steam- hammer. If you observe him closely you will see that he scarcely moves his body. He stands in one position, easily and naturally, all the time, in a slightly stooping attitude, yet h'" has full power over the heavy weight in his hands. When he shifts the porter, or turns the forging round, his arms are the instruments ; it is all performed deftly and simply, with a minimum of exer- tion. There is a style in it the most casual observer must readily perceive. He cannot help being struck with the extreme simplicity and attractiveness of the whole operation, and he will at once recognise the skilful forger from the unskilful, the gifted craftsman from the mere amateur or improver. The inferior forgeman will be full of excitement, 110 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY noise and bustle. He will peer into the furnace half-a- dozen times before he is satisfied as to the heat of the bloom, and grumble and scold the furnaceman all the while. Then, after darting to and fro, backwards and forwards, kicking things out of his way and seeing to this and to that, he bawls out to his mates to " pull up, and get on the pulley chain." After a considerable amount of pulling and shoving, grunting, sweating, twisting and turning the ingot, he at last succeeds in bringing it to the hammer, having lost a great part of the heat in the transit. Even now he is undecided as to how to begin the shaping of the piece and has to con- sider a moment or two before giving the word to start. At last he shouts out to the driver, and the preliminary blows fall. A dozen times, where there is no need of it, he stops the hammer and makes his mate try the gauges. Then he goes on again, thump, thump, thump, now shouting out " Light ! " at the top of his voice, followdng up with a very loud " Whoa ! " If his mate happens to be in the way he gives him a rough push and tells him to " get out," takes up the gauges and fits them himself and afterwards throws them down with violence, and repeats the performance till the bloom is in some manner completed. When the porter-bar has been lopped off and the forging placed on the ground he examines it several times, going to the furnace and coming back to view his half-finished labour and making as much fuss as though he had just forged a battleship, till even the door-boy is disgusted and passes sarcastic remarks upon his ceremonious chief. Considerably more slotting and shaping will always be required on his piece than on that of the other forgeman, and his work will be left tiU last in the machine shop. The skilful forger will shape his bloom perfectly, so that there will be but a very small amount of facing to do to it ; LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY in his work will be sure to receive praise, while the other's will as certainly be execrated. The men of the steam-hammer shed differ from the rest of the factory hands in having to work a twelve- hour day. Very often the heats are ready to draw out at meal-times, and it would be ruinous to leave them to waste in the furnace while the men went home to break- fast and dinner. Accordingly, the forger and his mates boil water in a can on the neck of the furnace, or over a piece of hot metal, and make their own tea to drink. Occasionally the mid-day meal is brought to the factory entrance by the forgeman's little son or daughter, or he may bring in a large basin full of cooked meat and vegetables and warm it up himself. Perhaps the fare is a rasher of bacon. This the workman brings in raw and either roasts it over the furnace door, or on a lump of hot iron. Perhaps he uses a roughly-made frying- pan ; or he may place it in the furnaceman's shovel in order to cook it. If the furnaceman sees him, however, he will certainly forbid this, for heating the shovel will spoil the temper of the steel and cause it to warp. He will say, moreover, that coal charged into the furnace with a shovel that has had " that mess " in it wiU never heat the iron, and I have more than once seen the half- cooked food unceremoniously turned out into the coal- dust. A common name for the roughly-made frying- pan is a " rasher- waggon." At night, when the day's work is over and everything has been left neat and tidy for the succeeding shift, the forger stows his leathern apron, cap and jackboots, rinses his hands in the bosh, and leaves the shed, walk- ing a little in advance of his mates and preserving the same temper he has displayed at the toil. His mates, however, together with the ingenuous and mischievous door-boy, are not so conventional in their behaviour. 112 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY Since they are free to go home and roam the streets or trudge off into the country once more, they indulge in games and fun before they leave, and sing and whistle to their heart's content. Meanwhile the old furnace- man has damped his fire and made everything ready for the mate who succeeds him. Now he, too, swills his hands in the bosh and gives his sweaty old face an extra special rub with the wiper, puts the muffler around his neck, slips on his jacket, and, taking his dinner-can under his arm, proceeds through the tunnel and out into the town. Very few of the forgemen were born in the town ; they have nearly all come in from the villages round about and become urbanised. After their toils in the hot shed they do not want to have to journey far to their homes. Their dwellings are consequently usually within easy distance of the forge, though here and there is to be found one who has the courage to continue in his native village. As their wages are above the average paid at the works — though the rate is not nearly as high as it is at most steam-hammer sheds — the forgers are enabled to indulge themselves in the matter of living. Their food will accordingly be of the very best quality, and when that has been paid for there is yet a fair supply of pocket money remaining. MC^it forgemen are fond of a glass of ale ; it is a rare thing to find a tee- totaler in their ranks. They are much given to talking of their achievements at all times and in all places, and they occupy long hours in telling of the famous jobs they have done on many occasions — a special crank for this or that engine, a big piston-rod or monkey for an outside firm, or a mighty anchor for an ocean-going vessel. In point of real usefulness and importance the boiler- makers stand second to none at the works. Though LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 113 they may not be as highly skilled as are the fitters in- dividually, collectively they form a much more imposing and vigorous body, and one that is far more essential to the absolute needs of the firm. To whatever extent the forger or fitter may be done without, or unskilled men put in place of them, that is not possible in the case of the boilersmith. His labour, as well as being very important, is distinct from that of all others at the factory ; his is an exclusive profession. In the making of locomotives for the hne the boiler is by far the greatest item, and it is very difficult and expensive to construct. The work must be performed with exquisite care and ever3rthing must be conscientiously well done. There must be no shoddy work in a boiler ; no " nobbhng over," concealment of flaws, or deception of any kind, or disastrous consequences would be inevitable. The plates must aU be admirably shaped and fitted, the bolts and stays very strong and sound, and the whole most carefully adjusted and riveted. The time required for the construction of a first-class boiler for a loco- motive is about six months, and the cost is near about a thousand pounds. All the inner plates are of copper, which is used in order to allow of regular expansion and contraction. The tubes are of iron or steel, and number several hundreds. Tubing is a branch of work distinct from boilermaking properly so-called, and is undertaken by those less skilful than are required for the other processes. Boilermakers are divided into two classes — the platers and the riveters. Those of the first grade prepare the plates, perform the marking-off and cutting-out, see to the drilHng of the holes and afterwards bolt the parts together. The riveters follow and make everything soHd and compact. Nearly all the riveting is done by hand ; very little is left to the chance work of the H 114 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY machine, which is often faulty and unreUable. Rivets put in by hand are far more trustworthy than are those done by the machine. The hammered heads will be tougher and more durable than those that have been squeezed up by the hydraulic apparatus. The two grades of boilermakers are kept separate and distinct. Every man is provided with a card certifjdng to which class he belongs, whether to the platers or riveters, and he can — as a general rule — only obtain a job upon that kind of work specified by his ticket. Similarly, if he has been employed on repair work for any length of time he will have great difficulty in getting re-admittance into the ranks of those engaged on the new boilers. The trade throughout is jealously guarded and protected. The rules are well-defined and pubhshed far and wide ; there is no setting aside the regulations. Notwithstanding the division of work on a boiler the efficient boilersmith is qualified to construct one throughout, from the marking of the plates to the insertion of the tubes. The valves and other fixings are usually attached by the fitters. The din of the frame shed and the unearthly noise of the pneumatic apparatus on the headstocks and plates is not to be compared with the tremendous uproar of the boiler shop. Here are no less than two hundred huge boilers, either new ones being made, or old ones undergoing repairs and engaging the attentions of four or five hundred boilersmiths, to say nothing of tubers and labourers hammering and battering away on the shells and interiors. There are boilers in every stage of construction and in every conceivable position on the stocks. Some are upright, some are upside down, some are standing on end, some l5dng on their sides, and others are scattered broadcast. The workmen swarm like ants everywhere, crawHng over the tops, inside and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 115 out, in the smoke-box and fire-box, and Ijdng on their backs underneath. Hundreds of tools are in operation at once. Hundreds of hammers are falling, banging and clanging perpetually, with an indescribable noise and confusion. If you would be heard you must shout at the top of your voice and make yourself hoarse in the attempt. The boilersmiths, who are used to the con- ditions, do not try to address each other at their work ; they have discovered an expedient. Instead of strain- ing their throats and lungs in the vain effort to make themselves heard they simply motion with the head or hands ; their mates come to know what is required and obey the telegraphic intimation, and so the work proceeds. The boilermakers are a bold and hardy class, sturdy in their views and outlook, and very independent. As in the case of the fitters, smiths, and other journeymen, they have travelled far and wide and become acquainted with many workshops and sets of conditions. Very often they will have tramped the whole country, from end to end, in search of emplojnnent, for though as a class they are indispensable their ranks are often over-crowded, and when trade is slack the services of many of them are dispensed with. As with the majority of other journeymen, if they are thrown out of employ- ment, though they may be idle for a long time and re- duced to dire straights, they seldom deign to do other work, but shift from place to place and beg food along the highways and through the villages. Though verg- ing on starvation they cannot, even for a short period, be prevailed upon to abandon the idea of their trade, but still crowd around the factory doors and hope for a revival of the industry. A short time ago a party of boilermen, who had been discharged from the town, made weekly visits to the Ii6 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY villages round about pretending that they had walked from Sunderland and Newcastle — where a big strike had been declared — and calling themselves a deputation empowered to collect money for their mates at home in the North. The spokesman, a voluble and impudent scoundrel, told impressive stories of hardships and suffer- ing and drew a great many coins from the credulous and sympathetic rustics. By and by, however, a second party, with exactly the same story, came on the scene and professed to be highly indignant on being told that they had been anticipated in their office as collectors. The second batch of visitors did not solicit money ; they demanded it, and any who refused were subjected to abuse and threatening language. At last the sus- picions of the villagers were aroused. They doubted the genuineness of the tales of distress and of the long march from far-off Sunderland, and closed their doors to the importunate strangers. Very soon trade in the railway to\vn re\'ived ; the majority of the men were reinstated and the countryside knew them no more. The iron foundry is but a few yards from the boiler shed ; you may very quickly be introduced to it, with the noise of the hammers and the clatter of the pneu- matic apparatus still ringing loudly in j'our ears. After the din of the boiler shop the quietude of the foundry wiU be the more remarkable. Here are no plates to be beaten, no rapidly revolving pulleys and shafting, and no uproar. All that can be heard is the dull roar of the blast furnace half-way up the shed, and the subdued noise of the traversing table in the roof above you. The floor is of soft, yielding sand, similar to that of which the moulds for the castings are made, and it is noiseless under the feet. The men sit or kneel on the ground, with their patterns beside them, and construct the duplicates to receive the molten metal. As soon as the LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 117 moulds are finished the dark, grimy labourers bring the molten liquid, either carrying it in a thick iron vessel hned with firebricks and having a spout on one side — as you would carry a stretcher — or wheeHng it along in a big cauldron that swings like a pot, and pour it in through a small space left for that purpose. The chief interest to the visitor centres in the furnace that contains the molten fluid. This is a large, cylin- drical structure, enclosed in a steel frame, towering high into the roof and emitting a terrific heat all around. Near the top is a large platform, reached by an iron stairway, up which you are invited to mount by the grimy furnaceman, more often in jest than in earnest, for the heat there is overpowering. The handrail of the stairway seems nearly red-hot, and the air, puffed out from the furnace, strikes you full in the face, so that you are almost suffocated with it. On the platform is the feeding-place where the fuel and metal are charged — coke to produce the heat and material for the molten fluid, either old broken up castings, or bars of new pig iron. Both iron and coke are thrown in and fused up together. The fluid metal collects and flows out in front, while the debris of the coke — what Uttle remains after combustion — is ejected through a small aperture at the rear. The iron, by its weight, sinks to the floor of the furnace, while the filth and ashes of the coke remain floating on the top — there is no fear of the two intermixing. An iron conduit, working on a hinge, conveys the Uquid metal into the pots for the moulds. When the vessels are filled the shoot is raised, and tliis stops back the metal that goes on accumulating till the next pot is in position. There is a great attractiveness in the operation of filling the vessels with the molten fluid that, yellowish- white in colour, flows like water from the interior, ii8 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY sparkling and spluttering as it drops into the receptacle beneath. The heat is very intense at all times, and the toil continuous ; hundreds of moulds are waiting to be filled from the furnace. Having occasion to visit the shed recently I pushed a way through the crowd of labourers waiting to have their pots filled and stood beside the furnaceman as he was running out the metal. He took no notice of my presence, but kept his eyes fixed upon the conduit. " Very hot to-day 1 " I shouted. " Yes, 'tis," he replied, without turning round. " How much metal does the furnace hold ? " " Don' know." " What's your heat ? " " Don' know." " How many tons of metal do you run out in a day ? " " Don' know." " You must have an idea." " Don' know. Got no time. We're busy." " Are you always on at this rate ? " " We kips on till us stops, same as the rest on 'em, an' has a sleep in between." Then, turning round to one of the new arrivals he shouted — " What ! bist thee got back 'ere agyen, CharHe ? Thee't eff to wait a bit. I got none for thee yet awhile." CharHe nodded and grinned, with the sweat streaming down his nose and chin ; the whole company smiled appreciatively. Perhaps Charlie was carrying metal for one of the less important moulds, and was used to being put aside and made to wait a few moments, or he may have been one of the day men, of whom there are but a small number in the shed. Nearly everything is done at the piece rate ; a few special jobs alone are done accord- ing to the day work rule. Under these circumstances LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 119 Charlie might have no objection to waiting five or ten minutes. Most of the moulders dwell in the town, though many of the labourers prefer to inhabit the region round about the borough, in those viDages of easy access to the railway centre. Some of the journeymen have served their apprenticeship at small country towns and villages — perhaps in the same county and district — at which agricultural machinery is manufactured. Such as these will be sure to import local methods and characteristics and they will always retain some part of their individual style acquired during their term of apprenticeship. Though the difference of method may not be very great, it will be productive of good results ; it is by a com- bination of several practices and systems that perfec- tion is ultimately attained. Very often, in the midst of a teasing operation, a mate or passer-by may suddenly call to mind a similar difficulty he had in some far-off village yard and thus he will be able to supply the key to the situation. According to the theory of the works' officials, no difficulties should ever be encountered — they should not even exist. In practice, however, difficulties will often be met with, and when the work- man is compelled, by the lowness of his prices, to push ahead at a great speed he is sometimes apt to become confused with a difficulty and to overlook a point that, to the leisured overseer, wiU be quite obvious and simple. CHAPTER VIII GETTING TO WORK — THE AWAKENING IN THE COUNTRY — STEALING A RIDE — THE TOWN STIR — THE ARMY OF WORKMEN — " CHECKING " — EARLY COMERS — CLERKS AND DRAUGHTSMEN — FEATURES OF THE STAFF At an early hour the whole neighbourhood within a radius of five or six miles of the factory is astir ; there is a general preparation for the coming day's work. The activity will first begin in the villages furthest from the town. Soon after four o'clock, in the quiet hamlets amidst the woods and lanes, the workmen will leave their beds and get ready for the long tramp to the shed, or to the nearest station touched by the trains proceeding to the railway town. Many of the younger men have bicycles and will pedal their way to work. They will not be forced to rise quite as early as the rest, unless ^'hey live at a very great distance. A few work- men I know have, for the past twenty years, resided at not less than twelve miles from the town and have made the journey all through the year, wet and dry together. The only time at which they cannot get backwards and forwards is when there are deep floods, or after a heavy snowstorm. Then, if the fall has been severe and the water or snow lies to any depth on the roads, they will be compelled to walk or to lodge in the town. Sometimes the fall of snow has taken place in the night and the workman, under these circumstances, will be forced to take a holiday until it melts and he is able to journey along the road again. 120 LIFE IN A R.\ILWAY FACTORY 121 I have heard manj' accounts, from workmen who had long distances to walk to the factory, of the great and terrible bhzzard of 1881, when the drifts in many places along the highways were from sixteen to twenty feet deep. One sturdy fellow took great pride in relating how he made the journeys daily — of six miles each way — during the whole time the snow lay on the ground, though many were frozen to death in the locality. Another workman whom I knew walked regularly to and from the village for fifty years, and at the end of that time bethought himself to get a tricycle. It was amusing to see him, with snow-white hair and the per- spiration pouring down his weather-beaten old face, pedalling home from work after a very hot and scorch- ing day at the rolHng mills. What with the fatigue of the day's work and the extraordinary exertions required to propel the machine, he was very nearly exhausted by the time he reached home. Everyone along the highway turned to have a second view of the old man as he trundled his machine along, puffing and blowing with the effort, his face red and fiery ; but he was not to be deterred from the innovation. It is probable that walking would have been the easier way of getting backwards and forwards, for the machine was nearly as heavy as a farm cart. There was a slight saving of time, however, and it is a common saying among work- people of all sorts that " Third-class riding is better than first-class walking." After the old man's death the tricycle became the property of a band of farm boys who used it as a training machine ; it was for a long time a source of fun and amusement to the villagers. Very often, in the remote villages, where there is no access to the stations at which the factory trains call, a party of workmen club together and hire a conveyance to bring them daily to the town ; or they may subscribe 122 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY the money and buy a horse and cart and contribute equally towards the expense of keeping them. An arrangement is made with the proprietor of a pubhc- house in the town. The horse is stabled and the vehicle stored for a small sum, and the men ride backwards and forwards, comfortable and independent. It was the custom, years ago, during haymaking and harvest-time for farmers to come in with conveyances from the out- lying villages and meet the men and drive them home. They went straight from the factory to the farmyard or hayfield, and, after a hearty tea in the open air, or a square meal of bread, cheese and ale, turned in and helped the farmer, both enjojdng the change of work and earning a couple of shilhngs a night as additional wages. This practice was very popular with the factory men, who never ceased to talk about it to their town mates in the shed and rouse them to envy with the frequent narration. Of late years, however, the custom has died out. Labour is too cheap and machinery too plentiful for the farmer to have any difficulty in getting his crops together nowadays. The majority of the villagers, though compelled to leave home for the town at such an early hour, will yet rise in time to partake of a light breakfast before start- ing for the shed. The country mothers are far more painstaking in the matter of providing meals than are many of those in the town ; they think nothing of rising at four a.m. in order to boil the kettle and cook food for their husbands and sons. Though the goodman may protest against it and declare that he would rather go without the food than give his wife so much trouble, it makes no difference. Every morning, at the usual hour, the smoke goes curling up from the chimney ; a cup of hot, refreshing tea is invariably awaiting him on the table when he arrives downstairs. After the LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 123 repast he starts off in abundant time and takes his leisure on the road ; one rarely sees a countryman hurrying to work in the morning. The boys, on the other hand, will not be as punctual in starting off to work ; they will usually be late in setting out, very often delaying till the last moment. They will, moreover, often loiter on the way bird's-nest- ing or reading, or perhaps they may start into the farmer's orchard and carry off the rosy-cheeked apples to eat in the shed or to divide out among their mates and companions. At one time there were three brothers of one house in the village, all working in the factory, though they never under any circumstances went to the town together. The eldest of the three always led the way, the second following five minutes later, and the youngest brought up the rear at a similar interval. The return home at night was made in the same manner : it is unusual to see the members of a family or house- hold going to work together. Very often the village resident will work for an hour in his garden or attend to his pigs and domestic animals before leaving for the railway shed. If the neighbour- ing farmer is busy, or happens to be a man short, he may help him milk his cows or do a Uttle mowing with the scythe and still be fresh for his work in the factory. I have known those who, during the summer months, went regularly to fishing in the big brook, or practised a little amateur poaching with the ferrets, and never missed going to gather mushrooms in the early mornings during autumn. Several boys of the village, especially on the dark winter mornings, used to watch for the freight-trains that sometimes stopped at the signal station and steal a ride down to the works, hanging on to the rails of the brake van, or cUnging to the buffers. The practice 124 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY was attended with considerable risk, and the punish- ment, had they been detected, would have been sharp and severe. It was difficult to see them sitting in the shadow of the tail lamps, however, though once or twice we were reported by the signalmen and chased by the goods guards. At one time the train ran through the station without stopping, with three youngsters chnging to the rails of the guard's van, and it was only checked by accident twelve miles higher up the line. A great chase across fields in a drenching downpour of rain followed, but the goods guard had to own himself beaten and returned to the van. One of the boys was fond of lying down between the metals, and of allowing the trains to thunder along above him — cer- tainly a dangerous proceeding, though he did not think so at that time. All these practices are well-nigh im- possible now. Greater care is taken to keep trespassers off the Hue and the modern system of transverse sleepers for the track hardly permits of lying down between the metals. One morning, nearly dark, as a village lad was going to work down the Hne, he was much frightened at seeing a man behaving in a mysterious and suspicious manner underneath one of the bridges. He appeared to be selecting a spot in which to he across the rails, and as there was a fast train approaching close at hand, the youngster soon became considerably alarmed. To his rehef, however, as the engine drew near, the unknown one got off the track, ran up the bank and disappeared. At the same spot, soon afterwards, a young man, sus- pected of a criminal offence, threw himself in front of an express and was cut to pieces. After that occurrence we boys shunned the Hne, for that winter at least, and passed to work along the highway. We had many narrow escapes from being knocked down by engines, LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 125 trains and waggons in the station yard at different times. One morning, being very late, I ran between some waggons that were being shunted, when only a very narrow space remained before the vehicles closed up. In spite of warning shouts, I skipped through quickly, but as I cleared the rails an old shunter, who was waiting on the other side, swung his arm round and struck me a terrific blow behind the ear with his open hand, and loudly scolded me for taking such risks. Half stunned with the blow, I ran off, and freely forgave the old man for his well-meant chastisement. I often meet him now in the town, many years after the escapade, and always remember the incident, though he has doubtless forgotten it long ago. By five o'clock the people of the inner circle of the radius without the town are well awake, and twenty minutes later the dreaded hooter bellows out, Uke the knell of doom to a great many. The sound travels to a great distance, echoing and re-echoing along the hills and up the valley seventeen or twenty miles away, if the wind is setting in that direction. This is the first warning signal to the workman to bestir himself, if he has not akeady done so ; to awake from dreams to realities, to shake off the warm, comfortable bed- clothes and don his working attire. It is now the turn of the town dweller to stir. Very soon, here and there, a thin spire of smoke arises from the chimney, telling of the early cup of tea in preparation. The oldest hands, a good many of them grey and feeble, are to be seen making their way towards the entrances to the works. It will take some of them quite half an hour to reach the shed, though that is no more than three- quarters of a mile away. By and by others will come from their houses and join those who are just arriving from the country. These are the town's early risers. 126 LIFE IN A IL\ILWAY FACTORY Some time yaH elapse yet before the reg^-ilar stream comes forth to fill the street and make the pavements ring \nth their countless footsteps. Although a few may prefer to come leisurely to work and perhaps wait in the slied some ten minutes before it is time to start at the macliines. the great majority loiter till the very last minute and spend not a second of time, more than they are absolutely bound, upon the company's premises. At ten minutes to six tlie hooter somids a second time, then again at five minutes, and finally at six o'clock. This time it makes a double report, in order that the men may be sure that it is the last hooter. Five minutes' grace — from six till six-five — is allowed in the morning ; after that everyone except clerks must lose time. As soon as the ten-minutes hooter sounds the men come teeming out of the various parts of the town in great numbers, and by five minutes to six the streets leading to the entrances are packed with a dense crowd of men and boys, old and young, bearded and beardless, some firm and upright, others bent and stooping, pale and haggard-looking, all off to the same daily toil and fully intent on the labour before them. It is a mystery where they all come from. Ten thousand workmen ! They are hke an army pressing forward to battle. Tramp ! tramp ! tramp ! Still they pour down the streets, \nth the regularity of trained soldiers, quickening in pace as the time advances, until they come ver^* nearly to the double and finally dis- appear through the entrances. Some of the young men's faces are ghastly wliite, very tliin and emaciated, telling a ston.- of ill-health — consmnption, very hkely — while others are fresh and healthy-looking — there are fat and lean among them. Some there are still bearing traces of yesterday's toil — large black rings around the eyes, or sharp lines underneath the chin and LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 127 continued round the back of the neck. A little more soap and water would have removed them, but in all probabihty the youngster was extra tired, or in a great hurry to get off to play, or go a-fishing, and so could not endure a tedious toilet. Others, again, come blundering along with eyes only half open — having obviously missed the morning swiU — with their shirt unbuttoned at the neck, their boots not laced up, untidy and unkempt, and in a desperate hurry. This one is bare-headed, that one carries his hat in his hand, and another wears his hind before. Many have had no time even to look for their working clothes, but have clapped on the first that met their eyes on arising from bed ; you often see one enter the shed dressed in odd garments, and sometimes wearing a shoe of a sort. The boys and youths are usually the last. They always experience greater difficulty in leaving the comfortable bed, and the pater familias will often have had trouble in inducing them finally to wake up and think about work. They do not reaUse the seriousness of the business as he does, and are very careless on first awaking. By and by, however, the truth dawns upon them ; up they scramble, dress, and run out of doors and up the street, and very often do not stop till they come to the shed. I have many a time, as a boy, run from the village to the factory, four miles distant, in thirty-five minutes, as the result of oversleeping. When the youngsters reach the shed, after a long run, they will require a speU of a few minutes before they can start work, and the forgers and hammermen will often have to shout at them several times before they are sufficiently rested to begin. A great many of the crowd bring their breakfast and dinner with them, either to eat it in the shed, or in the mess-rooms provided for the purpose. Some of the 128 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY men carry it in a canteen, held under the arm or slung with a string over the shoulder and back. Others bring it tied up in red handkerchiefs, and very many, especially of the town dwellers, wrap it up in old news- papers. The country workmen are more particular over their food than are their mates of the town. Though their fare will be plainer and simpler — seldom amounting to anything more tasty than bread and butter, cheese or cold boiled bacon — they will be at great pains to see that it is very fresh and clean. That which strikes one most forcibly about the morning crowd is the extraordinary quiet and sober- ness, both of the men and the juveniles. They seldom speak to each other as they hurry along through the streets and tunnels towards their several destina- tions — not even those who toil side by side at the same forge or machine, however much they may talk later on in the day. They do not — except in somewhat rare instances — even wish each other " Good morning." If they happen to speak at all it will usually be no more than to utter a curt " Mornin'," which is often responded to with a very impohte and often positively churhsh " 'Ow do ! " And as for a smile I A morning smile on the way to work is indeed a rarity. Now and then the careless-hearted lads may indulge in a httle playful banter, though even this is not common, but the men never smile in the early morning. There is the day's work to be faced, the smoke and heat, the long stand at the machine, the tedious confinement, the hard word and bitter speech, the daily anxiety, the unnatural combat for the necessaries of life, and it all looms big on the horizon. By and by, as the day advances and the hands of the clock slowly but surely record the death and burial of the hours, the set features will relax, and the tongue will regain its ofhce. The LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 129 fire of human sympathy will be rekindled and man and boy will be themselves again. But this wiU be not yet. For the present everyone is concerned with his own necessity. He is marching to battle, the issue of which is doubtful and uncertain. When the first victory has been won, which is at dinner-time for him, he will dissolve and be natural and genial, but not now. It is noteworthy that the country workmen will prove to be more sympathetic than those of the town. Many of them will bid " Good morning " to everyone they meet, whether they know them or not. They do not stand upon any kind of formality; answered or not they persist in the salutation, and always add the christian name of the individual where it is known to them. In the street, near the entrances, are coffee stalls, where, for the modest sum of a halfpenny, the workmen may obtain a cup of the steaming beverage, which is usually of a weak quality and not at all hkely to derange the stomach of the individual who swallows it. Another halfpenny will purchase a bun or scone, a slice of " lardy " or currant cake, if anyone shall desire it, so that there is no need for any who can afford a copper each morning to go hungry to work. Some workmen bring food from home in their hand and eat it standing by the stall, where they have stopped to partake of a cup of tea or coffee. It is pathetic, especially on cold, wintry mornings, to note the rivet boys and others of the poorest class as they approach the entrance by the coffee stalls. Their eyes are fixed longingly on the steaming urns and piled-up plates of buns ; they would like to gulp down a good big cup of the liquid and munch several of the cakes. But such luxuries are not for them. They have not a halfpenny in the world, so they content I 130 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY themselves with a covetous look and pass on to the labour. Now and then a father, with his little son, wiU stop to share a cup of coffee, or they may have one apiece, but this is not a common occurrence. All the money is needed elsewhere — for clothes, boots, and household requirements. The better class of work- people — journeymen and such like — never drink tea or coffee at the stalls. That is beneath their dignity. They do not like to be seen breaking their fast in public, and they speak of the beverages as " messes " and " slops." A few of the workmen will loiter about the street till six o'clock, by which time some of the public- houses will be opened. They will require a mug of ale or a Uttle spirit to put them in order ; perhaps they were drunk overnight and want a " livener " before starting in the morning. At about three minutes past six a smart rush for the entrance is made, and those bringing up the rear will be forced to put on a good spurt in order to gain the shed in time. They have either dawdled about at home, or were late in rising ; whatever the reason may be, every morning finds them in the same pre- dicament. The same workmen are always first or last ; year in and year out there is Little variation in the individual time-table. What a man is this morning he will be to-morrow morning ; there is no change w^eek after w^eek or month after month. Moreover, he that is late at the first beginning of the day's work wiU most certainly be in the same position at break- fast-time and dinner-time, too. He will come to be noted for that characteristic ; he is bound to be late in any case. Such men alwaj'S parcel out their time with exquisite nicety, so that when the hooter begins to sound they have about twenty yards to run in order to reach the check-box. Immediately after the rear LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 131 part of the crowd has disappeared within the entrance the ponderous doors are closed with a loud bang, and the town without looks to be deserted. The men inside the yard scatter, some this way and some that, and are soon out of sight in the different sheds. All that can be seen now are a few clerks sauntering along, usually wearing a flower in their button-hole, and glancing at the morning newspaper. Every workman is provided with a brass check or " ticket," round in shape hke a penny, or oblong, with a number stamped upon it, corresponding to his name in the register. This has to be placed in the check-box each time the man enters the shed, and it is the only accepted proof of his attendance at work or absence from it. If he loses or mislays the ticket he will be fined a sum equal to half an hour's wages, whether he hkes it or not, and he will consequently often be forced to pay fourpence or fivepence for a portion of metal that is worth no more than a farthing. This will be the price of having his name registered, or, if he is dissatisfied with the arrangement, he can return home and wait till after the next meal-time. Similarly, in the morning, after the five minutes' grace, whoever is late is charged quarter of an hour for the first five minutes, and half an hour for the next, i.e., till six-fifteen, though there is no reason whatever why a workman should be fined so heavily. A fairer thing to do would be to fine all late- comers a quarter of an hour's wages and allow them to check till quarter-past six. This is the latest time for checking the first thing in the morning. No work- man is admitted later than that hour, but must wait till the re-start after breakfast. The country workmen will be among the first arrivals at the shed, though they are not usually the earliest comers of all. Some of the townsmen are early risers, 132 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY and come regularly to the premises half an hour before it is time to begin work. It is remarkable that those who are addicted to very early rising, that is, earlier than is really necessary, will most certainly be found to be deficient in brains and intellect. You will in- variably find such ones to be dull-witted, and lower in the mental scale than are many who hurry and come late to business. The old adage — / "Early to bed and early to rise, Makes a man healthy, wealthy, and wise," may be true enough in all three particulars, but it does not necessarily follow that a strict observance of the rule will also endue him with a plentiful supply of brains and intellectual keenness. Healthy it will certainly make him. The application of a httle common-sense will easily demonstrate that one reason of his retiring early is the fact that he has no mental pursuits, nothing in which to interest himself outside his daily occupa- tion, so that he is already deficient, and must perforce betake himself to bed. Being free from mental worry and not troubling about intellectual hobbies, he will sleep soundly, enjoy the maximum amount of rest, and wake up fully refreshed and vigorous in the morning. All that such men as these think of is their day's work, their food and sleep ; they have no other object or ambition in Hfe. As to the entire wisdom of the rule, that is another matter. It was counted sufficiently wise formerly, but we of this day are made of sterner material. Horses and oxen work hard, rest well, enjoy very good health, and appear to be satisfied, if not actually happy, but one man is of more value than many horses or oxen. Work and sacrifice are the only things that will raise a man in the estimation of the world and set him up LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 133 as a worthy example to his fellows. To those who are content merely to hve, and not to shine, may be addressed the words of the Ant spoken to the Fly in the Fable : Nihil labor as ; ideo nil habes — " You do nothing, and consequently you have nothing." At the same time it must be admitted that those who retire early and rise early nearly always prove to be the strongest workmen ; they will be capable of great physical exertions and staying powers. But when all has been said, such men are rather to be pitied than envied. They are Httle more than mere tools and the slaves of their employers — the prodigal squanderers of their powers and Hves. It is a privilege of the shop clerks to arrive a Httle later than the workmen, and to leave a little in advance of them at meal-times and in the evening. The members of the principal office staff enjoy a still greater dispensa- tion, for they do not begin work at all before nine o'clock in the morning and finish at five-thirty in the afternoon. The clerks are the most numerous of all the trained classes at the factory. With the draughtsmen they form an imposing body, yet though they rank next the foremen and heads of departments, they are not taken very seriously by the rank and file, except when they appear in the shed with the cashbox to pay the weekly wages. For the sake of distinction the shop clerks are called the " weekly staff," and the managers' and other clerks, with the draughtsmen, are denominated the " monthly staff." The first-named of these are paid weekly with the workmen ; the others receive their salary once a month. The shop clerks are chiefly recruited from the personnel of the sheds, while those of the monthly staff are chosen from over a wider area. In the case of them considerably more training and experience will be required. They must be possessed of specific abilities, 134 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY and have gone through classes and taken examinations in order to quaUfy for the positions. It is usual for the more intelligent lads at the higher elementary schools of the town to be recommended to the chiefs of the factory offices. If their qualifications are considered satisfactory, they are started in one or other of the clerical departments and instructed in the several duties. By entering the offices young, and passing from point to point, they have every opportunity of becoming pro- ficient, and are in course of time promoted according to their abihties. The clerks of the sheds naturally enjoy the confidence of the overseers. They know everything pertaining to piecework prices and output, and are consequently able to furnish the chief with whatever information he desires upon any point. In addition to the clerk there is a checker, who books every article made and supervises the piecework outside the office, and, as if that were not sufficient, a piecework " inspector," who is commissioned with the power to report upon any price on the spot and to make any reduction he thinks fit. AU these co-operate and together supply particulars of the workman and his job, how much he makes on a shift, the precise time it takes him to finish an article ; and if it is necessary one or the other stays behind after working hours and computes the number, of forgings, or other uses made, and is a perfect spy upon his less fortunate mates of the shed. An unscrupulous clerk may thus work incalculable mischief among the men. He often influences the fore- man in a very high degree, or he even dictates to him, so that you sometimes hear the clerk spoken of as the " boss " and the foreman himself styled the " bummer." Under such circumstances it will not be wondered at that the clerk is sometimes an unpopular figure in the LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 135 shed and is looked upon with disfavour, though very often unjustly so. A great deal depends upon the temper and honesty, or dishonesty, of the overseer, for the clerk, in most cases, will take the cue from him. If he is honourable and " above board/' he will not tolerate any covert dealings and tale-bearing. If, on the other hand, he is shifty and cunning, he will encourage all kinds of slimness and questionable proceedings on the part of his clerks. The members of the monthly staff and draughtsmen occupy quarters grouped around the managers' offices, and do not often appear in the workshops. When they do so it will be on account of some extraordinary busi- ness, or they may come in with the foreman to take a look round and view the machinery. They usually bring a book or dramng in their hand, or under the arm, so as to have some kind of excuse in case they should be challenged by a superior, for even they are not allowed to go wherever they wiU. I have known draughtsmen to come regularly to the shed provided with a tape- measure, books, and plans, and take the dimensions of a machine again and again. No doubt they were in need of a Httle exercise and anxious to see the stampers and forgers at work. Very few clerks, in spite of their leisure and oppor- tunities, are bookish or endowed with a taste for litera- ture ; out of over a thousand at the factory less than twenty are connected with the Literary Society at the Works' Institute. The students and premiums have their debating classes on matters connected with engin- eering. They meet and read papers on technical sub- jects, but have httle interest in anything natural or spirituel. CHAPTER IX FIRST OPERATIONS IN THE SHED — THE EARLY DIN — ITS EFFECT ON THE WORKMEN — CHARGING THE HEATS — THE OIL FURNACE — THE " AJAX " — HARRY AND SAMMY — ^THE " STRAPPIE " — HYDRAULIC POWER — WHEEL-BURSTING Arrived in the shed the workmen remove their coats and hang them up under the wall, or behind the forges. If any shall be seen wearing them by the foreman when he enters they will be noticed and marked : it is a common rule, \vinter and summer, to take them off on coming into the workshop, except in places where there are no fires. A terrible din, that could be heard in the yard long before you came to the doors of the shed, is already awaiting. Here ten gigantic boilers, which for several hours have been steadily accumulating steam for the hammers and engines, packed with terrific high pressure, are roaring off their surplus energy with in- describable noise and fury, making the earth and roof tremble and quiver around you, as though they were in the grip of an iron-handed monster. The white steam fills the shed with a dense, humid cloud hke a thick fog, and the heat is already overpowering. The blast roars loudly underground and in the boxes of the forges, and the wheels and shafting whirl round in the roof and under the wall. The huge engines, that supply the hydrauHc machines with pressure, are chu-chu-ing above the roof outside ; everything is in a state of the utmost animation. If you were not fully awake before and sensible of what the day had in store for you, you 136 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 137 are no longer in any doubt about the matter. All sluggishness, both of the mind and body, is quickly dis- pelled by the great activity everywhere displayed around you. The very air, hot and heavy, and thickly charged with dust as it is, seems to have an electrical effect upon you. You immediately feel excited to begin work ; the noise of the steam, the engines, the roar of the blast, and the whirling wheels compel you to it. At the same time the morning freshness, the bloom, vigour, the hopeful spirit, the whole natural man will be entirely quelled and subdued after the first few moments in this living pandemonium. Wife and chil- dren, friends and home, town and village, green fields and blue skies, the whole outside world will have been left far behind. There is no opportunity to think of anything but iron and steel, furnaces and hammers, the coming race and battle for existence. Moreover, as everything is done at the piece rate, the men will be anxious to make an early start, before the day gets hot. It is especially true of the stampers and hammermen that " A bird in the hand's worth two in the bush," and a good heat performed before breakfast is far better than depending upon exertions to be made at a later part of the day. So, before you can well look around you, before the foreman can reach the shed, in fact, the workmen are up and at it. Those who are earliest on the place usually make the first start. They, and especially the furnacemen and forgemen, often begin before the regulation hour, and make haste to get their fires in a fit condition to receive the metal. First of all, the coal furnaces have to be clinkered. A large steel bar and a heavy sledge break the clinker ; the fire-bars are with- drawn, and down plunges the white-hot mass into the " bosh " of water beneath. When this is performed 138 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY new fuel is laid on, light at first, and sloping gently to the rear wall. The corners are well filled ; the floor of the furnace, recently levelled with fresh sand, is firmly beaten down with the heavy paddle, and all is ready to receive the ingots or blooms. Immediately the forger and his mates swarm round with the metal, either using the crane and pulley, or charging it in upon the peel. The chargeman grunts and scolds and the furnace door is raised, Ughting up the dark corners behind the forges. Now the hammer- driver winds the wheel that opens the valve, and fills his cyHnder with the raucous vapour ; the heavy monkey travels noiselessly up and down, preparing to beat the iron into the shape required. Little by little, as the steam is absorbed by the engines and hammers, the din of the boilers subsides. The tremendous amount of power required to drive the various machines soon reduces the pent-up energy, and by and by the priming ceases altogether. The steam will continue gradually to diminish until the first meal-hour, when it wiU have reached a low figure, as indicated by the pressure gauge. During the interval, however, it will have risen again, and long before it is time to recommence work the boilers will be roaring off their superfluous energy with the same indescribable din and fury. To obviate the noise of the simultaneous priming of the boilers an escape valve was recently constructed, and a pipe affixed to carry it through the roof. Owing to the incapacity of the tube, however, the noise, instead of being diminished, was considerably in- tensified. People heard it in every quarter of the town and thought it was an explosion. No one in the vicinity of the shed could sleep at night, so at last complaints were made to the manager, and the use of the valve was discontinued. LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 139 Now the oil furnaces will have been lit up and the smiths' forges kindled. The two foremen will have arrived and made their first perambulation of the shed, and everything will be in a state of bustle and confusion. Certainly the sparks will not be flying, nor the anvils ringing yet. It will take fully twenty minutes to get everything into order and to produce the first heat. But there is a deadly earnestness evident all round. It will not be long before the busy Titans are stripped to the waist, turning the ponderous ingots and blooms over and over, and raining the blows upon the yielding metal. The oil forge hails from the other side of the Atlantic, and is an innovation at the shed. It is attached to machinery of the American type, and is well suited for the game of hustle. It is not very large, and occupies but a small space anywhere, but it has this advantage, that it may be moved to any position ; it is not a fixture, as are the other furnaces. It is oblong in shape, with an arched roof ; and the heating space is not more than several cubic feet. The front is of brick, with as many apertures as are required for the bars of metal, and the back and ends are enclosed in a stout iron frame. The oil — derived from water-gas and tar — is contained in a tank as high as the roof, fixed outside the shed, and is conducted through pipes to the furnace. A current of air from the fan blows past the oil- cock and drives the fluid into the furnace. The heat generated from combustion of the oil is regular and intense ; the whole contrivance is speedy and simple. This is so, however, only when the oil is good and clear. Then there will be scarcely any smoke or fume. The slight flame emitted from the vent-hole on top will be of a copperish colour, and the interior wiU ghtter like a star. The furnace will go right merrily ; there 140 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY will be no need for the workman to wait a moment. But when the oil is cheap and inferior, or absolutely worthless — as it often is at the shed — the system is a most foul and abominable nuisance. As soon as the forger attempts to Hght up in the morning, tremendous clouds of black, filthy smoke pour out of every httle crack and hole and mount into the roof. After strik- ing against the boards and rafters this beats down to the ground again and rolls away up the shed, fining the place from end to end, half suffocating the workmen with the sickening, disgusting stench, and making their eyes smart and burn. Several times during the operation of lighting up, by reason of the irregular flow through the feeder, the oil in the furnace will explode with a loud bang, shooting out the flames and smoke to a great distance, and frequently blowing the whole front of the forge to pieces, to the great danger of the stampers and the amusement of the other workmen and smiths — for the oil system of heating is not at all popular with the men of the shed. The stampers' furnaces, to the number of five or six, are behaving in the same manner, and as there are no chimneys to carry off the smoke the whole smother is poured out into the shed. This will very soon be more than the average man can stand. With loud shouts and curses, down go hammers and tools ; the blast is shut off from the fires and a rush is made for the open air until the nuisance is somewhat abated. The overseer walks round and round, viewing the scene with great ill-temper, defending the oil and the furnaces, and blaming the lighters-up for everything, at the same time darting angry looks at those who, half suffocated, have sought refuge outside. So, no matter what the time of year may be, whether summer or the dead of winter, when the chiUing winds drive LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 141 through upon the stampers shivering at their fires, he has every door and window thrown open, and often does it himself and stands hke a sentinel in the doorway, that no one shall close them up till he is quite satisfied. If he moves away and the half-frozen workmen steal along and adjust the doors, he returns, closes them entirely, and forces the stampers to endure the whole smother, because they dared to meddle with the doors when he had opened them. By and by, as the heat in the furnaces increases, the smoke will diminish somewhat, though as long as the oil is inferior they will continue to emit a dirty cloud accompanied with deadly fumes and intense volumes of heat, which are forced out by the blast to a distance of several yards, making it impossible for the youth to get near enough to attend to his bars without having his arms and face scorched and burnt. The roof and waUs, for a great distance around, are blackened with the soot. There is no mistaking the cause of it, though it is a favourite recommendation of the oil furnaces that they consume every particle of their vapour. When the oil is of a sufficiently good quality this actually happens ; it is only when the fuel is cheap and bad that considerable unpleasantness arises. Our entry to the shed was made through the large door in the north-west corner, near which the first oil furnace is situated. This furnace is attached to a new kind of forging machine conveniently named the " Ajax/' by reason of its great strength. Ajax was the name of two of the mighty ones who fought before Troy, but the manufacturer does not inform us whether the machine is named after Ajax, the son of Telamon, or he that was the son of Oileus, though perhaps the latter is intended. Standing alongside the oil furnace is the first of the drop-stamper's forges, and next to 142 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY that, in a line, are the three drop-stamps themselves. Opposite the Ajax is the foreman's office— a two-storied building— and a httle to one side, straight from the door, is a coal furnace, upon which is superimposed a large " loco " boiler. This reflects a tremendous heat all round, and, together with the furnaces and forges, makes that part of the shed, though near to the door, ahnost unbearably hot, so that it has come to be called " Hell Corner " by the workmen. The line of hammers and furnaces is continued up the workshop to the far end under the wall. There also, fixed to the masonry, are the main shafting and pulleys, whirled round at a tremendous rate by the engine in the " lean-to " outside. At the end of the Hne stand the heavy steam-hammers and, under the wall outside, the blower house, containing machinery for forcing the air for the smiths' fires. A huge stack of coal and coke is visible through the door at the other end. A small single fan is attached to the oil furnace with the Ajax in order to supply it with air. This travels at a high rate of speed and makes a loud roar, thereby adding to the confused din of the hammers and other machinery. Standing further out in the shed is a second row of smaller steam-hammers and forges with drills, saws, shears, pneumatic apparatus, other oil furnaces, and the American stamping-hammers with then: trimmers and appUances. Beyond them is an open space reserved for future arrivals in the shape of manufacturing plant, and towards the south wall are two lines of powerful hydrauUc machines and presses with furnaces and boilers attached for heating the plates of metal for punching and welding. The Ajax machine operates by up-setting. It is worked by youths, one of whom heats the rods of metal, while the other sets them in the dies and presses LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 143 the treadle that brings the machine head forward. As soon as the furnace is sufficiently hot fifteen or twenty bars are thrust through the brickwork in front of the forge, the lubricators are filled, the belt pulled over, and the work begins. The belts flap up and down on the pulleys with a loud noise, the cog-wheels rattle and clank, the " ram " travels backwards and forwards incessantly, chcking against the self-act, the furnace roars and the smoke and flames shoot out. When the bars are white-hot the assistant hands them along ; his mate grips them and inserts them in the dies, then presses the treadle with his foot. Imme- diately the steel tools close up and the ram shoots forward ; in about two seconds the operation is complete. Very often the water, running continually over the tools to keep them cool, becomes confined in the dies as they close. The heat of the iron converts it into steam, and, as the ram collects and forces the material, it explodes with a loud report, almost like that of a cannon. Showers of sparks and hot scale are blown in all directions, and if the operator is not careful to stand somewhat aside, his face and arms will be riddled with the tiny particles of shot-hke metal ejected by the explosion. It is not uncommon to see his flesh covered with drops of blood from the accident. The bits of metal will adhere tightly underneath the skin, and must be removed with a needle, or otherwise remain till they work out of their own accord. Both youths of the Ajax dwell in the town, and are known about the corner by the names of Harry and Sammy. Harry's father was an infantryman, and Sammy's parent served in the Navy. There is a little of the roving spirit about both of them — each possesses a share of the paternal characteristic. Harry's father, however, is an invahd, and he is forced to stay at home 144 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY and help keep him and his mother, otherwise he would long ago have bidden farewell to the shed, Ajax and all. Sammy, on the other hand, is free and unfettered, but though he has made many attempts to enter the Navy, they were all in vain. First, he was not sufficiently tall or broad in the chest, and later, when, after a course of exercises with dumb-bells, he was able to pass the examinations, he was refused on account of his teeth, which were badly decayed. This was a great dis- appointment to Samuel. He sulked about for several days afterwards, quarrelled and fought with his mate, and was generally inconsolable. The boys' chargeman had to intervene as peacemaker and he comforted Sammy, who shed a few tears and finally became re- conciled to the forge again, though he often defiantly affirmed that he would not be beaten, not he ! He would go to Bristol and get a job aboard ship ; he would not stop there in that hole all his life ! Both Sammy and Harry dress much alike, and they resemble each other in their habits. They are both nimble and strong, active, energetic, and high spirited. Both have commendable appetites, and they are especi- ally fond of drinking tea. They have a passionate regard for sports, including boxing and football, but, over and above all this, they are hard workers ; every day they are sure of a good sweating at the furnace and Ajax. Both wear football shirts — Sammy a green one and Harry a red and white — in the forge, and they have football boots on their feet. If you should turn out Sammy's pockets you would be sure to find, among other things, half a packet of cigarettes, a pack of cards, a mouth organ, a knife, a comb, and a small portion of looking-glass. A great many of the town boys and young men carry a small mirror in their pockets, by the aid of which they comb and part their hair and study their LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 145 physiognomies. At meal-times, as soon as the hooter sounds, they hasten to the nearest water-tap, give their faces a rough swill and, with the aid of a portion of looking-glass, examine them to make sure that they are free from the dust and soil of the smoky furnace. Though the companions of Ajax work hard and per- spire much they do not become very tired, apparently, for after the most severe exertions they are still ready to indulge in some sport or other, and run and play or wrestle and struggle with each other on their way down the yard. Arrived home they have their tea, wash and change, and come back to the crowded parts of the town to see and be seen and be moved on by the policeman, returning late home to bed. In the morning they will often be sullen and short-tempered. This invariably wears off as the day advances, however, and they will soon be up to the usual games, singing popular songs and imitating the comic actors at the theatre^ where they delight to go once or twice a week. Close behind the oil furnace, in a recess of the waU, is the fan that drives the blast for this part of the shed, supplying four forges altogether. The fan itself is of iron, enclosed in a stout cast-iron sheU or case, and is driven from a countershaft half-way up to the main shafting. Multiplication takes place tlirough this from the top pulley, and whereas the main shaft will make but one hundred and twenty revolutions a minute, the fan below will; in that space, spin round two thousand times. As the engine is running day and night, for more than twenty hours out of the twenty-four, the number of revolutions made by the fan will be over two millions daily. Although, viewed on paper, these figm-es appear high, yet, if you should stand near and watch the fan itself, it would seem incredible to you that it would K 146 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY require such a long time in which to complete them. The speed is terrific, and this you may know by the sound, without troubhng to look at the gear. The rate of the belts, from the pulleys on to the countershaft, is a further proof of the tremendous velocity of the machine. Although strained very tight on the wheels they make a loud noise, flapping sharply all the while ; one may easily gauge the speed of an engine by the sound of the belts alone. The fan itself, at normal times, emits a loud humming noise, hke that of a threshing- machine, but when the speed of the engine increases through the relaxation of some other machinery, or the sudden rise of steam pressure in the boilers, it seems to swell with a dreadful fury, and assails the ear with a vicious and continuous hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo-hoo, hoo-hoo- Hoo-Hoo-Hoo, like some savage beast ravenous for its prey. The oscillation of the fan is imparted to everything around. The very ground under your feet trembles, and if you should place your hand upon the outer sheU, or on the wooden guard around it, you would experience something Uke an electric shock, strangely pleasant at first, but very soon necessitating the removal of your hand from the \dcinity. It is dangerous to meddle with the fan while it is in motion. A stout wooden guard is erected around it to prevent any object from coming into contact with the wheels or the interior. If a nut or rivet head should happen to fly and be caught in it, the shell would immediately burst. Very often excessive speed alone will cause a fan to explode. The effect is similar to that of a steam or gas explosion ; the heavy cast-iron frame will be shattered to bits, and hurled to a great distance. I remember one in the smithy that exploded and blew up through the roof, making a huge rent. For safety's sake the fans are often constructed under- LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 147 ground in order to lessen the danger of explosion, if one should happen. It is remarkable that while the pulley on the counter- shaft is traveUing at a tremendous speed, so that the spokes are generally invisible, and there appears to be nothing but the rim and centre whirhng round, if you look up quickly you will see one spoke quite plainly as it flies over, then it will be entirely lost to view with the rest. The space of time during which it is visible is exceedingly short — it could be no more than a fraction of a second — yet in that brief period the eye perceives it clearly and distinctly : it is something similar to taking a snapshot with a camera. Formerly, when all the belts were of leather and thickly studded with large broad-headed copper rivets, the boys used to draw near to them and take small lessons in electricity. This could only be done in the case of belts that travelled at a very high rate of speed, such as the one on the fan or the circular saw. Standing dangerously near the wheels they held a finger, or a knuckle, very close to the belt in motion, and were rewarded with seeing a small stream of electric sparks, about as large in volume as the stem of a needle, issuing from the finger-tip or knuckle, accompanied with a slight pain like that produced by the prick of a pin. The velocity of the belt, with the copper, attracted the electricity within the body and drew it out in a tiny visible stream from the flesh. All the belts for high speed work at this time, however, are made of another material, i.e., a preparation of compressed canvas, without rivets. Instead of being laced together they are fitted with a steel-wire arrangement for connection. The ends are inserted, as you would bend the fingers of both hands and thrust them one between the other, and a piece of whalebone is pushed through. Slight 148 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY as this may seem to be, it is yet capable of withstanding a great strain, and the whole runs much more smoothly than did the old-fashioned leather belts. A man is specially kept to attend to everything per- taining to the belts. He is known to all and sundry as the " strappie." Directly anything goes wrong with the connections he appears on the scene smothered in oil from head to foot, and looking very cloudy and serious. He is usually in a great hurry and is not over- polite to anyone. First of all he gives the signal to have the engine stopped. As soon as the shafting is still, armed with a very sharp knife, he climbs up the wall, in and out among the wheels, and unceremoniously cuts away the defective belt. Arrived on the ground again, he draws out the belt, motions " right away " to the engineman, then rolls it up and disappears. In a short while he comes back with it strongly repaired, or brings a new one in place of it. The shafting is stopped again, and up he mounts as before. When he has placed it over the shaft and connected the ends, he pulls it half-way on the wheels and ties it loosely in that position with a piece of cord. As the engine starts the belt assumes its position on the wheel automatically ; the piece of cord breaks, or becomes untied, and faUs to the ground, and everything goes spinning and whirling away as before. If a belt is merely loose the strappie brings a potful of a substance he calls " jam," very resinous and gluey, some of which he pours on the wheel and belt while in motion. This makes the belt " bite," or grip well, and brings the machine up to its maximum speed with the shafting. Sometimes, if the shafting has not been oiled punctu- ally, it will run hot, or perhaps a small particle of dust will obstruct the oil in the lubricator and produce friction. News of this is soon pubhshed abroad by a LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 149 loud creaking noise that everyone can hear. The work- men take up the cry and shout " Oil, oil," at the top of their voice ; then the engine-driver comes forth with his can and stops the screeching. Occasionally the spindle of the fan wiU run hot, and especially so if the belt happens to be well tight. This, by reason of its great speed, will soon generate a fierce heat ; I recently ran to attend to it and found the spindle of the fan a bright red-hot. Thanks to the warning of the belt, which was sHpping owing to the greater exertion required through tightening of the bearings by expansion, I was just in time to prevent an accident. In another moment the fan might have been a total wreck. Through a doorway in the wall, in an extension of the shed, stand several boilers used as auxiliaries, and, near to them, are two powerful pumping engines and their accumulators, which obtain the pressure for the whole hydraulic plant of the department. The engines are of a hundred and twenty horse-power each, and are fitted with heavy fly-wheels that make forty revolutions a minute at top speed. These draw the water from a neighbouring tank and force it into the accumulators, from which the pressure is finally derived. The accumu- lators are constructed in deep pits that are bricked round and guarded with iron fencing. They are large weights of fifty tons each — there was originally one of a hundred tons — and are built about a central column of iron or steel standing fifteen or twenty feet above the floor level. Contained in the lower part of the weight is a cylinder ; into this the water is forced by the engines and the pressure obtained. The power of the water, when a sufficient volume has accumulated, raises the weights high into the roof and keeps them there, with a httle rising and falHng, corresponding to the action of the presses in the shed. When the weights have 150 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY risen to a certain point they operate a self-act, and the engines stop. Similarly, when they sink below the point they displace a second small lever that communi- cates with the engine valves and re-starts the pumps. The pressure put on the water is enormous ; it often amounts to two thousand pounds per square inch. Since the operation of water is much slower than that of steam, however, the power is not nearly as effective. It would be impossible by its agency to drive machinery at a high rate without the use of gear, though for punch- ing, pressing, and welding some kinds of work the system is admirable and unsurpassed. The engine that drives the lesser machinery of the shop stands in a " lean-to " and is not nearly as powerful as are those that operate the pumps. A httle higher up, in another small lean-to, is a donkey engine that drives the " blower," which produces blast for the forges and fires. This machine is vastly superior to the old- fashioned fan, and the speed of it is quite low ; there is no danger of explosion or other rupture. It is a pleasure, since so much manufacturing plant is introduced to us from foreign countries — America, France and Germany — to reflect that the idea of the blower is English. There is a considerable amount of American- made machinery at the works^ and the percentage of it increases every year, though it is often far from being successful. At the same time, it must be conceded that our kinsmen over the sea are very clever in the design- ing and manufacture of tools and plant, and many of their ideas are particularly briUiant. The Enghsh maker of manufacturing tools follows at some httle distance with his wares. These, though not actually as smart as the others, are yet good, honest value, the very expression of the Englishman's character. The chief features of American machinery are — smartness LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 151 of detail, the maximum usefulness of parts, capacity for high speed and fiimsiness, styled " economy," of structure : everything of theirs is made to "go the pace." English machinery, on the other hand, is at the same time more primitive and cumbersome, more conservative in design and slower in operation, though it is trustworthy and durable ; it usually proves to be the cheaper investment in the long run. One often sees American tackle broken all to pieces after several years' use, while the British-made machine runs almost ad znfinilum. At a manufactory in Birmingham is an old beam engine that has been in use for more than a century and a half, and it is almost as good now as when it was new. The same may be said with regard to English- made agricultural machinery. A modern American mower wiU seldom last longer than four or five years, but I know of English machines that have been in use for nearly thirty years and are as good as ever, generally speaking. One man attends to the engines that drive the shop machinery and the " blower." It is his duty to see that the shafting is kept clean and the bearings well oiled, to watch over the belts and to notify the strappie when one becomes loose or slips off the wheel. Dressed in a suit of blue overalls, and equipped with ladder and oil-can, he remains in constant attendance upon liis engines and shafts. He will also be required to keep a watchful eye upon the valves, to regulate the steam to the cylinders, and to maintain a uniform rate of speed for the lathes and driUs. Occasionally, if the pressure of steam in the boilers should rise very suddenly — which sometimes happens, as the result of a variable quahty of coal and the diversity of heats required by the furnace- men — the engine, in spite of the regulators, will rapidly gain speed and " run away," as it is called. This may 152 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY also result from the disconnecting a particular machine engaged on heavy, dragging work, such as the saw, or fan, both of which require great power to drive them at their high rate of speed. Considerable danger attaches to the running away of an engine, especially where it is provided with a heavy fly-wheel. This, if it is whirled round at an ex- cessive speed, is Hable to burst, and the consequences, in a crowded quarter, would be disastrous. The danger of bursting hes in the tremendous throwing-off power generated from the hub of the wheel, about the shaft ; as the sections forming the circle of the wheel are brought rapidly over there is a strong tendency for them to be cast off in the same manner as a stone is thrown from a shng. If the wheel is exactly balanced, however, and every part of precisely the same weight, so as to ensure perfectly even running on the shaft, the danger of bursting will be small. Grindstones burst much more commonly than do metal wheels. There is not the same consistency in stone as in iron ; moreover, there may be a flaw some^vhere that has escaped the eye of the fitter or overseer. Consequently, if the speed of the engine driving the stone should be immoderately in- creased, it will not be able to withstand the throw-off, and will fly to pieces, inflicting death, or very severe injuries upon all those in the vicinity. CHAPTER X STAMPING — THE DROP-HAMMER STAFF — ALGY AND CECIL — PAUL AND " PUMP "— " SMAMER "—BOILERS— A NEAR SHAVE The drop-stamps stand in the corner, close under the wall. They are supplied by three coke forges, and by the coal furnace before mentioned. A drop-stamp, or drop-hammer, is a machine used for stamping out all kinds of details and uses in wrought iron or steel, from an ounce to several hundredweights. It differs from a steam-hammer properly so called in that while it is raised by steam power it falls by gravity, striking the metal in the dies by its own impetus, whereas the steam-hammer head is driven down by a piston. Three hands are employed at each machine. They are — the stamper, his hotter, and the small boy who drives the hammer. A similar number compose the night shift ; the machines are in constant use by night and day. All the work is done at the piece rate, and the prices are low ; the men have to be very nimble to earn sufficient money to pay them for the turn. The hands employed on the drop-hammers are of a fairly uniform type, though there are several distin- guished above the others by reason of their individual features and characteristics. Chief among them are the two young hammer boys, Algy and Cecil, Paul the furnaceman, and a youth who rejoices in the preposter- ous nickname of " Pump." Algy drives the end drop- stamp for the chargeman and Cecil the next one to it, 153 154 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY larger and heavier. Algy has several nicknames, one of which, from his diminutive stature, being " Teddy Bear," and the other, carrying with it a certain amount of sarcasm, is plain " Jim." Sometimes, also, he is called " Dolly " or " Midget." Cecil boasts of a string of christian names, the correct list being Cecil Oswald Clarence. Questioned concerning the other members of the family he informs you that his brother is named Reginald Cuthbert, his schoolgirl sister May Alberta, and his baby sister Ena Merle. From some cause or other he himself has not obtained a regular nickname ; he is rather summarily addressed by his surname. No one in the shed ever deigns to caU him by his christian name, it is too unusual and high-sounding, too aristo- cratic and superb. Bob or Jack would have been pre- ferable ; scarcely anyone at the works goes beyond a monosyllable in the matter of names. The boys are of the same age — fifteen or thereabout — but they are dissimilar in stature and in almost every other respect. Algy is short and small, plump and sturdy, while Cecil is inclined to run. He is tall for his age, and very thin. His body is as fiat as a man's hand ; he has no more substance than a herring. Algy's features are round, regular, and pleasant ; he is quite a handsome boy. His forehead slopes a little, his nose is perfect in shape. He has frank, grey eyes sparkling wth fun and good-nature, a girlish mouth, and small, pretty teeth. Cecil, on the other hand, is not what one would style handsome. He has thin, hollow cheeks and small, hard features. His forehead is narrow, and his eyes are rather large and searching — expressing strength and keenness. His mouth is stern, and his hps pout a httle : they are best represented by the French s'allonger — les Uvres s'allongent, as Monsieur Jourdain's did in Mohdre, when he pronounced the vowel LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 155 sound of u. He has a particularly fine set of teeth, and he has a way of grizzing them together and showing them when in the act of making a special exertion that gives him a savage expression. Both boys are pale. Algy's face, when it is clean, shines like a glass bottle ; Cecil's skin is incHned to be yellow. Both have dark rings around the eyes, especi- ally Cecil, who is the more delicate of the two — they are neither very robust-looking. Their hair is very long, and it stands out well from underneath their cloth caps and stretches down the cheeks before the ears. They are consequently often assailed with the cry — " Get yer 'air cut," or — " You be robbin' the barber of tuppence," or — " Tell yer mother to use the basin," suggesting that the boys' hair is cut at home. It is a common charge to lay to small boys in the shed that their mothers used to put a basin over their heads and cut the hair around the outside of it. Both boys wax indignant at being taunted about the basin, and reply to the other remark with, " You gi' me the tuppence, then, an' I'll have it cut." Occasionally, more by way of being sarcastic than out of any desire to show good-nature, the stampers will make a collection towards defraying the barber's expenses, and the next morning the boys will turn up at the shed nearly bald : they have had their hair cut this time with a vengeance. Several times Algy has come to the shed wearing a pair of wooden clogs, but, as everyone teased him and called him " Cloggy," he cast them aside and would not wear them any more. Clogs belong rather to the Midlands and the North of England, and are very rarely seen in the railway town. The least respectable of all the boys' clothing are their shirts. They are usually full of big rents, being split from top to bottom, or torn quite across the back, the lower part falling down and 156 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY exposing the naked flesh for a space of a foot, and they are of an inscrutable colour. One day_ an entire sleeve of Algy's shirt dropped clean away, and Cecil's was rent completely up one side so that his entire flank and shoulder were visible. Though the stampers laugh at Cecil and sometimes grip hold of whole handfuls of his flesh, where the shirt is torn, he is not very much dis- concerted. Algernon blushed considerably, however, when his mate quietly told him one day that he could see his naked posterior through a rent in his trousers. Although the boys' clothing is untidy and dilapidated they are not kept short of food, and their appetites are truly enormous. They bring large parcels of provisions to the shed — thick chunks of break and butter, rashers of raw bacon, an egg to boil or fr}', and sometimes a couple of polonies or succulent sausages. The whole is tied up in a red dinner-handkerchief or wrapped in a news- paper ; you would often have a difficulty in getting it into an ordinary-sized bucket. The youngsters have to stand a great deal of chaff over their parcels of pro- visions. The men often take them in their hands and weigh them up and down, showing them about the shed, and asking each other if they do not want to buy a pair of old boots. At breakfast- or dinner-time the lads obtain a roughly-made frying-pan, or take the coke shovel, and, after rubbing it out with a piece of paper, cook their food, usually frying it together and dipping their bread in the fat alternately. Then, if it is fine, stiU stripped of their waistcoats, they go out in the yard and sit down, or crouch by the furnace door and clear up the food to the last morsel ; they will often not have finished when the hooter sounds the first time to warn the men to come back to the shed. When the meal is over, if there is yet time, Algy will produce from his pocket some Uterature of the Buffalo Bill type, or a LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 157 school story, of which he is fond, and read it. Cecil will not deign to look at " such stuff," as he calls it, but will borrow a newspaper, or some part of one, from his mates, and greedily devour the contents of that. Though neither of them has left school for more than a year, or, at the outside, fifteen months, they have forgotten almost everything they learned, even to the very rudiments in many cases. Their knowledge of grammar, arithmetic, poetry, geography, and history has entirely lapsed, or, if they remember anything at all, it will be but a smattering of each. To test their memory and knowledge of these matters the boys' chargeman occasionally offers them prizes, and enters them into competition with other lads of the shed, some of whom have not been away from school for more than five or six months, but one and all show a deplorable lack of the faculty of retention. Whether it is the result of too much cramming by the teacher, or whether it is that the rising generation is really deficient in mental capacity, they are quite incapable of answering the most simple and elementary questions. The chargeman's plan is to offer them pennies for the names of half-a-dozen capitals of foreign countries, half-a-dozen foreign rivers, six names of British kings or British rivers, the capitals of six English counties, or the names of the counties themselves, six fish of English rivers, six wild birds, half-a-dozen names of wild flowers, the capitals of British colonies, the names of six English poets, or a few elementary points of grammar, and so on. The answers, when any are vouchsafed, are often ludicrous and amazing : the intellectual capacity of the boys is certainly not very brilliant. During these tests the chargeman was astonished to learn that Sahsbury is a county, Ceylon is the capital of China, 158 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY and that Paris stands on the banks of the river Liffey. As for the preterite tense, not one had ever heard of it. Only one out of six could give the names of the six counties and kings complete, though another of the lads had strong impressions concerning a monarch he called the "ginger-headed" one, but he could not think of his name. Not one could furnish the requisite list of fish, fowl, and natural wild flowers, but httle Jim, struck with a sudden inspiration, shouted out "jack and perch," for he had recently been fishing in the clay-pits with his brother. The others frankly confessed they did not know anything about the matter ; if they had ever learned it at school they had forgotten it now. Anyway, it was not of much use to one, they said, though it was all right to know about it. Not one of the half-dozen, though all were born in the town, could give the name of a single Wiltshire river. Paul is not permanently attached to the furnace in the corner, but came to fill the place of one who had met with an accident. As a matter of fact, Paul is everybody's man ; he is here, there, and everywhere. He can turn his hand to almost anything in the second degree, and is a very useful stop-gap. Forge he cannot, stamp he cannot, though he is a capital heater of iron, and makes a good furnaceman ; he is a fair all-round, inside man. But somehow or other, everyone persists in making fun of Paul, and contrives to play pranks and practical jokes upon him. Whatever job he is engaged upon his mates address ridiculous remarks to him ; they will never take him seriously. Some one or other, in passing by, will knock off his hat ; this one gravely takes him by the wrist and feels his pulse, and that one will give him a rough push. Another puts water over him from the pipe, pretending it was by accident ; whatever reply he fnakes his mates only LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 159 laugh at him. As a rule, Paul takes it all in good part, though sometimes he will lose his temper and retahate with a lump of coal, or any other missile upon which he can lay his hands. Paul would be the tallest man in the shed if it were not that he stoops sHghtly as the result of having had rheumatics. As it is, he is quite six feet in height, bony, but not fleshy, with broad shoulders and large limbs. As he walks his head is thrown forward ; he goes heavily upon his feet. His features are regular and pleasant ; he has grey eyes and bushy brows. His skin is dark with the heat and grime of the furnace ; his expression is one of marked good-nature. In appearance he is a perfect rustic ; there is no need to look at him the second time to know that he dwells without the municipal border. It is this air of rusticity, combined with his simplicity of character and behaviour, that makes Paul the butt of the other workmen. They would not think of practising their clownish tricks upon others, for there are many upon whom it would be very inadvisable to attempt a jest without being prepared for a sudden and violent reprisal. Paul's home is in the village, about three miles from the town. There he passes his leisure in comparative quiet, and, in his spare time from the shed, cultivates a large plot of land and keeps pigs. This finds him employment all the year round, so that he has no time to go to the public-house or the football match, though he sometimes plays in the local cricket eleven. He takes great interest in his roots and crops, and almost worships his forty perch of garden. During the summer and autumn he brings the choicest specimens of his produce in his pocket and shows them to his mates in the shed ; he usually manages to beat all comers with his potatoes and onions. i6o LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY In spite of Paul's simplicity of behaviour, one cannot help being attracted to him by reason of his frankness and open-heartedness ; he would not think of doing an}i:hing that is not strictly above board. Though rough and rude, blunt and unpohshed, he is yet very honest and conscientious. Certainly he is not as sharp and intelligent as are many of the towTi workmen, but he is a better mate than most of them, and when it comes to work he wiU stand by 3^ou to the last ; he is not one to back out at the slightest difficulty. How Pump came to be Pump is a mystery ; no one knows the origin of the nickname. " They called I Pump a long time ago," says he. Very Ukely it was given to him extemporaneously, with no particular relation to anything ; someone or other said " Pump," and the name stuck there at once. Pump is just under eighteen years of age. He drives the hea\^ drop- stamp on the day-shift, and, o^\ing to certain char- acteristics of which he is possessed, he always attracts attention. He is very loud and noisy, fuU of strong words and forcible language, though he is extraordinarily cheerful and good-natured. He is short in stature, very strong and much given to sweating ; in the least heat his face will be very red and covered with great drops of perspiration. His forehead is broad and sloping, he has immense blue eyes, tapered nose, bronze complexion, a sohd, square countenance, and a tremendous shock of hair. In driving the hammer he has acquired the unusual habit of following the heavy monkey up and down \\dth his eyes, and the expression on his face, as he peers up into the roof, induces many to stop and take a peep at him as they pass by. To all such Pump addresses certain phrases much more forcible than pohte, and warns them to " clear out " \\ithout delay if they do not " want LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY i6i something." They usually respond with an extra- special grimace, or work their arms up and down as though they were manipulating the engine from which he derives his nickname. As a mate Pump is variable. With the men of one shift he can agree very well, but with the others he is nearly always at loggerheads. The fact is that Pump's stamper on one shift does not like him, and will not try to hke him, either. He quite misunder- stands his driver's characteristics, and will not see his good quahties underneath a certain rugged exterior. Accordingly, they quarrel and call each other evil names all day. Very often the stamper will throw down his tongs and walk off. Thereupon Pump lowers the hammer defiantly, folds his arms, and tosses his head with disgust, while the furnaceman, waiting with his heat, calls to them to " come on." Now the stamper picks up his tongs quickly, shouts loudly to Pump, " Hammer up, there ! " and on they go again, the stamper snorting and muttering to himself, and glaring fiercely from side to side, while Pump bursts into song, with a broad grin on his countenance. Some- times the stamper, in a towering fury, will come to the chargeman and swear that he will not hit another stroke with " that thing there," and demand another mate forthwith, but with a little tact and the happy application of a spice of good-humour, the situation will be saved, and everything will go on right merrily, though the old trouble will certainly recur. Pump confides all his troubles to the chargeman and sheds a few tears now and then. He is full of good intentions and tries to do his level best to please, but he cannot avoid friction with his fiery and short-tempered mates of the fortnightly shift. He has one very special and ardent desire, which is L i62 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY to go on night duty ; he is for ever counting up the days and weeks that must pass before his birthday wiU arrive, and so raise him to the age necessary for undertaking the shift. In common with most other youths, he looks upon the night turn as something " devoutly to be wished," but I very much fear that a few weeks of the change will modify his opinion of the matter, if it does not entirely disillusion him. Notwithstanding a certain amount of novelty attaching to the working on the night-shift, it is attended with many hardships and inconveniences. The greater part of those who have to perform it would willingly ex- change it for the day duty. There was at one time another highly distinctive " character " attached to the drop-stamps. He revelled in the nickname of " Smamer." Where he obtained the pseudonym is unknown, though it is notable that the word has an intelHgible derivative. Smamer is undoubtedly derived from the Greek verb (r/xav = sman, meaning to smear, and, afterwards, from frju,a/^a 1 = soap, so that the nickname is meant to designate a smearer. As there are many who are in the habit of smearing their faces with soap, the nickname would seem to have a very wide and universal application. Be that as it may, our Smamer was a smearer of the first order ; he usually stopped at that and did not care to prosecute the matter further. His face daily bore traces of the initial process of washing, and that only ; it was a genuine smear and Httle besides. Whoever first honoured him with the appella- tion was a person of discernment, though he might not have been aware of the origin of the word. You often hear a workman say that So-and-so is " all smamed up " with oil or some other greasy substance. ^ Classical, crix^v,