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LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
UNIFORM WITH THIS VOLUME
THE READERS' LIBRARY
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Full list of Tttlet can be had from
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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, <r/j.^fjLa.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 163
Smamer was one of the forge hands and heated
iron for the middle drop-stamp. His home was in the
country, several miles from the town ; winter and
summer he tramped to and from the shed. For
several years after his father and mother died he lived
in the cottage by himself, tilled his own garden, pre-
pared his food, performed his housework, made his bed,
and did his own washing, though he was no more than
nineteen years of age. He was noted for his eccentric
mode of living. Whatever the weather might be he
scarcely ever wore an overcoat. He often came to
work wet through to the skin, and reached home at
night in the same condition, where he received no
welcome of any sort, but had to light his own fire
before he could dry his clothing or prepare his meal.
To every inquiry as to whether he was wet or not he
made one reply ; he was " just a little bit damp about
the knees," that was all.
In manner he was quiet and rather sullen ; he was
never very sweet-tempered, though he was a quick and
clever heater of iron and a very good mate. About his
native village he was rough and noisy, fond of fighting
and disturbance. He was frequently in conflict with the
police, and often on the point of being summoned before
the Bench for some offence or other, but he usually
scraped out of the difficulty at the last moment, either by
means of apologies, or by making some kind of restitu-
tion to the injured party. At week-ends, with a band
of associates, he paid visits to the neighbouring villages
and fought with the young men, until the whole of them
became so well-known to the poHce that wherever they
went they were recognised and promptly hustled off
in the direction of their native place.
During the autumn months Smamer visited all the
orchards along the road on the way to work, and came
i64 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
to the shed with his pockets crammed full of apples.
These he used to divide out among his mates, who ate
them with little or no compunction ; there is small
searching of conscience among the boys of the factory,
especially when the contraband happens to be sweet,
juicy apples plucked from the farmer's trees. Very
soon, however, the habit of the life began to tell upon
him. His continually getting wet, and the having no
one to provide him with any kind of comfort, ruined
his constitution ; in a few months he wasted away and
died. A small party of mates from the shed attended
the funeral at the little village churchyard : that was
the end of Smamer. His place at the forge was soon
filled ; he was not missed very much. Everyone said
he had but himself to blame ; there was no sjmipathy
meted out to him. His brother, who also worked on the
drop-stamps, had been kiUed by a blow on the head with
a piece of metal from the die only a short while before.
They lay side by side in the Httle walled enclosure, for
ever oblivious of the noise and din of the thunderous
hammers and the grinding wheels of the factory.
There are several others, distinguished with titles of an
expressive kind, working on the drop-stamps. Of these
one answers to the nickname of " Bovril," one is
" Kekky Flapper," one is " Aeroplane Joe," one
" Blubber," and another is known about the shed as
" Wormy." How they came to possess such inglorious
appellatives cannot with certainty be told ; a very
little will suffice to brand you with an epithet in the
work-shed. In addition to these, in the vicinity of
the drop-stamps in the corner are an ex-groom, a grocer,
a musical freak, a comedian, a photographer, a boy
scout, a territorial, a jockey, a cowman, a pianoforte
maker, and a local preacher.
Situated over the coal furnace that feeds the big
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 165
drop-stamps is a boiler of the " loco " pattern, one of
those responsible for the tremendous din that is raised
every day at meal-times when the steam is not required
for the engines and hammers. These boilers have all
served their time on the line — in passenger or goods
traffic — and, after their removal from the engine frames,
they have become distributed over the company's
system and throughout the factories. The distance a
boiler is required to travel under steam on the railway
is about thirty thousand miles ; after completing this
it is superseded and removed from the active list on the
permanent way. By the time the boiler and engine
have travelled together so many miles they will be half
worn out. The wheels, by reason of the frequent
appHcation of the brakes and " skidding " on the rails,
will be grooved and cut about, and the machinery will
require new fittings and bearings. After the boilers
have been removed from the frames they are over-
hauled and tested and then sold out to the different
sheds and stations, wherever they may happen to be
wanted.
The method of transacting business between the
different sheds and departments at the works is exactly
like that employed by outside firms and tradesmen.
Bills and accounts are rendered, and the whole formula
of hire and purchase is entered into by the different
parties ; everything, in fact, except the actual payment
of money, is duly carried out. The sheds are required
to show a balance on the right side at the end of each
year ; percentages are charged for working expenses,
and all the rest is profit. Thus, some sheds will show
profits of many thousands of pounds annually, though
upon paper only ; the surpluses do not exist in reality.
Although the new boiler costs £1,000 it is sold to the
shed second-hand for £200, so that the cost of ten for
i66 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
the workshop was only £2,000. The charge for setting,
and fitting, and also for repairs and cleaning, however,
is very great ; a big sum is needed to keep them in a
fit condition for work. After they have been erected
above the furnaces they are covered with a thick jacket
of a compound of magnesia and fibre, to enable them
to retain the heat, and they are afterwards painted
black, so as to harmonise with the general environment.
The steam pressure of the repaired boiler is usually
fixed at about a hundred and twenty- five pounds per
square inch. The capacity of each boiler is very great,
and the composite power of the whole set formidable ; if
one of them should happen to explode the result would
indeed be disastrous. A small staff of men superintends
them by day and night, and greater care is taken of
them than was the case formerly. I can remember
when the shed was several times within a hair's breadth
of being blown up and forty or fifty men hurled to
perdition.
A few years ago, instead of trustworthy men being
appointed to superintend the boilers, they were consigned
to the charge of several youths, who were very careless
and negligent in their work, and who seemed to have
no idea whatever of the tremendous responsibility rest-
ing upon them for the safety and welfare of the Hfe in
the shed. Provided with mouth-organs and bones,
or Jew's harps, they would play and skylark about for
a long time and leave their boilers unattended at con-
siderable risk. I have often known them to be away
from their posts for an hour at a stretch, and to allow
the water in the boilers to become aknost entirely evapor-
ated before they returned to fill them up again, which,
as everyone knows, is an exceedingly dangerous practice.
By the common regulation attaching to boilers, the
water should never be permitted to fall below that point
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 167
when it is visible in the gauge-glass. If it is allowed to
do so the position becomes dangerous immediately, and,
to obviate accident, the bars of the furnace fire should
be withdrawn and no cold water admitted.
Once a youth — a wild, reckless fellow — ^was absent
from the boiler an unusually long time in the middle of
the morning before dinner. The stampers watched the
water in the gauge-glass drop little by little and finally
vanish, and still no one came to attend to it. Being
a little anxious about it I sent several men and boys
to try and find the boilerman, but without avail.
His mates were nowhere to be found either, and
the foreman was away from the shed at the time.
From being anxious I soon felt alarmed. The matter
was becoming serious, and we were not allowed,
under any circumstances, to meddle with the injectors
ourselves.
As I was warning aU men in the locality of the danger
the boilerman arrived, a little frightened, but in a
desperate mood. I advised him to take the usual
course in such a case, to have the fire withdrawn from
the furnace and allow the boiler to burn, but as this
would have meant certain dismissal for him he decided
to risk everything and fill up the boiler or explode it.
As he was determined in his foolhardy resolution we
collected our mates and left the shed, retiring to a safe
distance. By good fortune, however — by pure luck,
and nothing else — the boiler received the water safely,
though with a great deal of shuddering, and the danger
was past. To make the best — or the worst — of it,
there were three men on the back of the boiler at the
time, laying on the coat of magnesia, for it had not been
erected many days. Although we gave them warning
of the danger they took not the slightest notice, but kept
working away, in a hurry to get the job done, for it
i68 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
was piecework. If the boiler had exploded, packed
as it was with terrific pressure and priming furiously,
they would have been blown to atoms.
The bold and daring of the shed indulge in many jeers
and uncomplimentary remarks, if some others, in the
face of real danger, should adopt precautionary measures
and take heed of their safety, but experience has taught
me that it is better to be apprehensive and cautious and
to take pains to safeguard oneself than to score a cheap
victory by bravado and carelessness. When danger
threatens in the factory, the best course is to stand
quite clear at aU costs ; it is then no shame to put into
practice the words of the old proverb, slightly amended :
" He that works and runs away wiU Uve to work another
day." By far the greater proportion of the accidents
that happen daily at the works are the direct result of
inattention, of not taking notice of warnings uttered
b}^ others, and the failure to exercise the instinct of
self-preservation natural to each individual. It is not
that the men are absolutely careless of themselves ;
it is rather that the care they do take is not con-
siderable or sufficient.
CHAPTER XI
FORGING AND SMITHING — HYDRAULIC OPERATIONS —
" BALTIMORE " — " BLACK SAM " — " STRAWBERRY "
AND GUSTAVUS — THE "FIRE KING" — " TUBBY " —
BOLAND — PINNELL OF THE YANKEE PLANT
The drop-stamps and forgers, together with the plant
known as the Yankee hammers — so called by reason of
their having been introduced from the other side of the
Atlantic — are the hfe and soul of the shed. The
hydraulic machines, through their noiseless and almost
tedious operation and the considerably less skill required
on the part of the workmen in carrying out the various
processes, are dull and tame in comparison with them.
The steam-hammers, both by their noise, speed, and
visible power and by the alertness and dexterity of the
stampers and forgers, are certain to compel attention.
There is a great fascination, too, in standing near the
furnace and watching the sparkling, hissing mass of
metal being withdrawn by the crane, or seeing the heated
bars removed from the oil forge and clapped quickly
on the steel dies to be beaten into shape. No one can
withstand the attraction of the steam-hammers ; even
those who have spent a hfetime in the shed like to stand
and watch the stampers and forgers at work.
Forging and smithing are, without doubt, the most
interesting of all crafts in the factory ; other machinery,
however unique it may be, will not claim nearly as
much attention. Visitors will pass by the most elabor-
ate plant to stand near the steam-hammers, or to
109
170 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
watch the smith weld a piece of iron on the anvil. The
small boy who has just been initiated into the shed, the
youth, the grown-up man, and the grey-haired veteran
are bound to be attracted by the flashing of the furnace
and the white-hot metal newly brought out. They are
greatly delighted, too, with the long, swinging blow of
the forging hammers, or the short, sharp stroke of the
stampers ; to watch the metal being transposed and con-
forming to the pressure of the dies, to see the sparks shoot-
ing out in white showers, and the men sweating ; to feel the
earth shaking, and to hear the chains jinghng, the steam
hissing and roaring and the blows echoing like thunder
all the time. To stand in the midst of it and view the
whole scene when everything is in active operation is
a wonderful experience, thrilling and impressive. You
see the lines of furnaces and steam-hammers — there are
fifteen altogether — with the monkeys travelling up and
down continually and beating on the metal one against
the other in utter disorder and confusion, the blazing
white light cast out from the furnace door or the duller
glow of the half-finished forging, the flames leaping
and shooting from the oil forges, the clouds of yellow
cinders blown out from the smiths' fires, the whirling
wheels of the shafting and machinery between the
lines and the half-naked workmen, black and bare-
headed, in every conceivable attitude, full of quick
Ufe and exertion and all in a desperate hurry, as though
they had but a few more minutes to live. And what
a terrific din is maintained ! You hear the loud ex-
plosion of the oil and water appUed for removing the
scale and excresence from the iron, the ring of the metal
under the blows of the stampers or of the anvil under
the sledge of the smiths, the simultaneous priming of
the boilers, the horrible prolonged screeching of the
steam-saw slowly cutting its way through the half-
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 171
heated rail, the roaring blast, the bellowing furnace,
the bumping Ajax, the clanking cogwheels, the groan-
ing shears, and a hundred other sounds and noises inter-
mingled. There is the striker's hammer whirling round,
this one pulling and heaving, the forgeman running out
with his staff, the stamper twisting his bar over, the
furnaceman charging in his fuel, the white slag running
out in streams sparkhng, spluttering, and crackling, the
steam blown down from the roof through the open door,
the thick dust, the almost visible heat, the black gloom
of the roof and the clouds of smoke drifting slowly about,
or hanging quite stationary like a pall, completely blot-
ting out the other half of the shed, all which form a
scene never to be forgotten by those who shall happen
to have once viewed it.
The hydrauUc work, on the other hand, though inter-
esting, is not engrossing. There is a lack of life and
animation in it ; it is not stirring or dramatic. The huge
" rams " of the presses, though capable of exerting a
pressure equal to two hundred tons weight, descend
very slowly ; the quick, alert steam-hammer could
strike at least ten or a dozen blows while the ram is
once operating. So rapid is the blow of the steam-
hammer that the pressure raised in the metal by the
impact of the dies is often still unspent when the hammer
rebounds, so that, as the dies separate, if the metal is
very hot, it explodes and flies asunder. The speed of
the rebound may be gauged by the fact that the stamper
can actually see the flow of metal in the dies from the
blow after the hammer has left it. The metal, as the
result of this, wiU frequently overflow the edge of the
bottom die, and when the hammer descends again the
top die will have to shear away a quarter, or half
an inch.
It is instructive to note the effect of the blows on the
172 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
hot metal. Continual beating it will quickly raise the
temperature of the iron or steel ; I have many times
raised the heat of a piece in operation from a dull yellow
to a brilliant welding pitch during the delivery of three
or four blows. Hammers have recently been invented
that, with continually beating on cold metal, will make
it sufficiently hot to aUow of drawing and shaping ; but
though such machinery is interesting, it is not of much
use for serious manufacture. Compressed air, directed
on metal of a dull yellow heat, will soon considerably
increase its temperature ; you may easily burn a hole
quite through a six-inch steel bloom by the method.
The flying of sparks through the air will greatly
intensify their heat ; after travelling a few yards they
will become very dazzHng and brilliant and explode
like fireworks. Sometimes a piece of this superfious
metal, an ounce or more in weight, forced out from the
die with the blow, will shear off and fly to a great distance
— often as much as sixty or seventy yards. This, at
the moment of leaving the die, may be no more than a
dull yellow, but by the time it falls to the ground it
will be intensely hot and will throw off a shower of hiss-
ing sparks. The shearing-off of the bur is a source of
great danger to the workmen. I have several times
been struck with pieces and been brought to the ground
in consequence ; the effect is almost as though you
had been struck with a bullet from a gun.
Nothing of this kind is ever possible with the hydraulic
machines. If a weld is to be made it must be performed
with one stroke of the ram ; after the top die leaves
the metal it will be too cool to receive any benefit from
a second application of the power. Welding by hand
or steam power is always preferable to that performed
by hydraulic action ; a joint that is made with six or
ten smaU quick blows wiU be far more effective and
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 173
durable than where the iron has been simply squeezed
together by one operation of the ram. As soon as the
hydraulic dies meet the metal is considerably chilled.
Instead of intensifying the heat, as in the case of the
steam-hammer, the cold tools greatly lessen it. The
weld, when made, will most certainly be short and
brittle.
Some portion of the personnel of the shed has already
been given, but of the hundred and fifty comprising
the permanent staff of the place several are conspicuous
among the rest for strangeness of habit, queer char-
acteristics, or strong personality. The men are a
mixture of many sorts and of several nationalities —
English, Scotch, Welsh, and Irish. There is the shaggy-
browed, fierce-looking son of Erin ; the canny Scot from
Motherwell over the border ; the gruff and short-
tempered old furnaceman from Dowlais ; the doughty
forger from Middlesborough ; the cultured cockney
with his superb nasal twang ; the Lancastrian with
his picturesque brogue ; a representative of distant
Penzance ; an ex-seaman, nicknamed " The Jersey
Lily," from the Channel Islands, and those hailing from
nearly every county in the Midlands and south of
England, from " Brummagem Bill " to " Southampton
Charlie." There are ex-soldiers and sailors with arms
and breasts tattooed with birds, flowers, serpents, fair
women and other emblems, and who have seen service
in the East and West Indies, China, Egypt, or the
Transvaal ; those who constantly pride themselves on
having once been in gentlemen's service — though they
do not tell you how they came to leave it ! butchers
and bakers, professional football players, conjurers,
bandsmen, and cheap- jacks.
" Baltimore " works the middle drop-stamp, about
halfway up the shed, and, in the line of smaller steam-
174 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
hammers opposite to him, toils a mulatto known to
everyone about the place as " Black Sam," or " Sambo."
They are old hands, having both come to the premises
as boys, where they have since been, except for the time
when " Baity" was absent for the annual training in
the local Militia. It is not explained how he came to
receive the nickname. Black Sam is so called from his
very dark complexion, his short, black, curly hair and
large, dark eyes. Baltimore is rather ordinary in appear-
ance. His forehead is low, his cheek-bones high and his
nose irregular. His lips are thick, he has a pointed
chin and lantern jaws. He is of medium height, square
and broad shouldered. As he walks his shoulders sway
to and fro and up and down, keeping time with liis
footsteps ; he is exceedingly unmilitary both in physique
and movement.
It was by reason of these characteristics that Balti-
more obtained the attention of his shopmates. They
all laughed rudely to see him in the old-time MiUtia
uniform — scarlet tunic much too big, with regulation
white belt, baggy trousers too long in the legs, heavy
bluchers on the feet and, instead of the swagger head-
gear worn in the Service to-day, the old Scotch cap
with long streamers behind and a little swishing cane
in the hand or under the arm. It is carefully handed
down and passed from one to the other that when Baity
was at home on furlough all the small boys of the street
would gather round him, sniggering and jeering, and
making fun of his cut and appearance, and it is said
furthermore that he used very unceremoniously to drive
them away with his cane crying — " Get out, you young
varmints ! 'Aven't you never seen a sojer before ? "
In the shed and at the furnace he continued to attract
attention and be the subject of jocular remarks made
by his workmates. They never would take him seri-
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 175
ously, not even though he came in time to work one of
the biggest drop-stamps and be reckoned among the
honourable company of forgers.
To aU the superfluous attentions and mock regard of
his fellow-mates Baltimore preserves a good-natured and
even an indulgent attitude ; he is not at all discon-
certed with their wit and sarcasm. Though not one of
the most skilful of workmen, he is very shrewd and
painstaking ; his whole heart and soul are in the busi-
ness. From morning till night he is toiling and sweating
over his blooms and forgings, and when he is off the
premises he is still concerned with his occupations at
the hammer. He will sometimes tell one of his mates
how he lay awake the greater part of a night working
out in his mind some problem connected with a diffi-
cult piece of forging and then came in the next morning
and triumphantly finished the job.
Sambo's father was an army veteran, a sergeant, who
took for his wife an Indian woman and became the
parent of a family, of whom Samuel is the eldest. He
is of medium height, thin, but very erect, with low
shoulders and long neck. The forehead is sloping, the
nose rather thick. He has large dark eyes with tre-
mendous whites, short woolly hair, high cheekbones,
skin very dark and sallow. The whole countenance
is long and the head angular ; he has the clear character-
istics of the half-cast. The general opinion is that
Sambo is out of place in the shed. He ought rather
to have been trained for a Hfe on the stage ; without
doubt he would have made a good pantomimist. Both
his appearance and manner are comical ; he causes
everyone to smile by reason of his ludicrous expressions
and grotesque facial contortions.
Sambo is quite aware of his own funniosity and readily
lends himself to the amusement of the small fry that
176 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
sometimes come to gaze upon him. Snatching up a
shovel, he claps it to his shoulder as though it were the
traditional nigger's instrument and, rolling his eyes
and turning up the whites of them, pretends to be
fingering the banjo while he sings a few lines of the
" Swanee River " or other coon song. Sam.bo has
always been the butt of the rougher section in the shed
and has been forced to suffer many indignities. It
was a common thing for the bullies of the place to throw
him on the ground and disgrace him. This they con-
tinued to do long after he had married and become the
father of children.
Working just beyond Sambo, at the next furnace, is
the very shadow of a man — a mere frame, a skeleton,
which a good puff of wind might very Hkely throw down.
He is stripped to the waist and hatless. His hair is
long and it stands upright. His flannel shirt is thrown
open ; his trousers merely hang on him, and he is as
black as a sweep with the smoke and grime of the
furnace. This is " Strawberry," sometimes also known
as " Gooseberry." His features are remarkably small
and fine, and his neck is no bigger round than a span.
He does not appear strong enough to do any work, but,
for all that, he is very tough and wiry. Many a one
laughs at him and tells him that he is melting away
" like a tallow candle," but he answers them all boldly
and tells them, with a merry twinkle in his tiny dark
eyes, that he is all right. " You look after yourself,
mate, and don't fret about me," says he.
Strawberry was at one time a cobbler, and used to
get his living by the patching up and renovation of old
soles. Long after he entered the shed he kept up the
employment in his spare time, but by and by he dis-
continued the work and betook himself to the more
genteel though less lucrative pursuits of flute-playing
LIFE IN A R.4ILWAY FACTORY 177
and photography. For a time he donned uniform and
played in the local band, and then, after a while, that
had to be discontinued. Now all his thought and care
is to take photographs and make models of steam-
engines, magic lanterns and cinematographic instru-
ments. Mounted on a cycle, and provided with a
camera, he scours the country round at week-ends for
customers and comes home and does the developing
and printing on Sundays. He is thoroughly versed
in time exposures and the various mysteries of photo-
graphic development. Wherever he goes he carries a
book of instructions in his pocket, and if you stop to
speak with him for a moment he is sure to tell you of
some new lens or snap-shot arrangement he has lately
made, or wearies you nearly to death with an attempted
explanation of the compounds in his home-made de-
velopers — " Hypo-tassum " something or other, and
the rest of it.
Another of Strawberry's hobbies is the blind poring
over fusty books, several hundreds of years old, bought
at auctions and usually fit for nothing but the fire or
dust-heap. These he treasures with great care, and he
is frequently trying to expound the contents of them
to his workmates, and to any others who will suffer to
listen to him for a few moments. His latest passion is
to seek out old caves, ruins and legendary sites ; he is
musician, artist, engineer, archaeologist and antiquarian
combined. What he will become ultimately no one
knows. I much fear, however, that he will suffer the
furnaceman's fate in the end and perish of the smoke
and heat of the fires.
Strawberry succeeded Gustavus, who died under
very sad circumstances. Poor Gus was most unfor-
tunate, though such cases as his are not of uncommon
occurrence. He had been through the war in South
M
178 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
Africa, and had fought there for his country. He had
not been long on the furnace. His health was not good
at the best of times. If regard for a man's health were
had at the time of putting him on a job Gus would
never have gone to the fires, but there is a ruthless, and
very often a sinister, disregard of a man's physical con-
dition when he is wanted to fill a difficult post. About
a year before Gus's wife contracted milk fever, after
confinement. This affected her reason and she had to
be removed ; her case was pronounced hopeless —
absolutely hopeless. This came as a great shock to
Gus ; there were five little children, all babies, one of
them new-born. He had no friends to come and take
care of them and he was poor — very poor. Accord-
ingly, with a little assistance from the neighbour, he
determined to look after them himself. The oldest
boy prepared the meals by day ; Gus saw to the general
needs at night and did the washing Sundays. Very
soon one of the mites fell ill and had to go to the work-
house hospital. All the others but one suffered sick-
ness, and Gus very soon followed suit. Worn out with
the day's work at the furnace and obliged to toil and
watch half the night over his infants, he soon fell a
prey to ill-health, and was compelled to stop at home
from work.
Then the little stinging insects of the shed began to
cavil and sneer. " He's oni shammin'. Ther's nothin'
the matter wi' he. He's as well as I be. He oni wants
to shirk the furnace. Kip un to't when a comes in."
By and by Gus started work again, but not till the over-
seer had played a treacherous trick upon Mm and tried
to have him rejected at the medical examination through
an innocent and incautious remark he had chanced to
let faU concerning himself. The fact of the matter was,
Gus was a broken, ruined man. His general health
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 179
was gone. His sight was failing ; his constitution was
wrecked. For several weeks he dragged himself to
work, in a last desperate effort to keep a home for his
babes and supply them with food, though anyone
might have seen that he was in positive torture all the
while. At last he could bear up no longer. He came
to work the fore part of the week, then stopped at home ;
in three days he was dead. His httle boys and girls
went to the workhouse, or to charities. One has to
die before his mates in the shed think there is anything
the matter with him. Then, in nine cases out of ten —
especially if he happens to be one of the poorest and
most unfortunate — he is mercilessly sneered over.
Probably that was his own fault. They even blame
him for dying ; in three days he is almost totally for-
gotten. Cruel hearts and feehngs are bred in the atmo-
sphere of the factory.
There is one " Fire King " and only one ; all the
others are mere apprentices — nobodies. He comes
from " The Noth," from Middlesborough, of great iron
fame. Without doubt he is a marvel. He is always
talking about the " haats " they used to draw " way
up there." It was prodigious. There is nothing like
it down south. ' ' Wales ! I tell you Wales is a dung-
hill ; they can't do it for nuts." He looks at you with
inexpressible scorn. Then he plunges the bar into the
furnace hole and stirs up the coals, " stops up " again,
peers through the iron door and comes back mopping
his face with the wiper. " I tell you tha be a lot o' cow-
bangers about here. Tha never sin a furnace nor a
haat afore. When I was at Sunderland " — here he
gives an especially knowing wink, and scratches one
side of his nose with his forefinger, drawing his head
near to your ear and speaking in an undertone — " when
I was at Sunderland, though I says it myself, there
i8o LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
wasn't a man on the ground as could hold a candle to
Phil Clegg, The manager alius used to stop and talk
to me about the haats, and slip a crown piece into mi
hand for a drink. ' Clegg,' says he, 'I've learned from
you what I never knew before.' " All this is accepted
with reserve in the shed. It may or may not have been
true ; one is not compelled to believe all the extraordin-
ary reports circulated by the forgers and furnacemen.
Some years ago the doughty one was set to do some
initial forging in steel blooms and spoiled three parts of
the material by overheating. " Bad steel ! damn bad
steel ! 'Twunt stand a bit o' haat," said he. The
matter was accordingly reported to the managers, and
word was sent to the firm that had manufactured the
blooms — " Bad steel ! Bad steel ' " passed all along
the line. Then the manufacturers' representative came
to inspect the process and to report upon the quality of
the metal. The Fire King scraped his leg and scratched
his nose and talked much of " kimicals/' winking at his
mates and getting his metal to a fizzing heat. " Too
hot, too hot," said the representative. " Aye ! man,
but we must get it so hot or the hammer wunt bate it
down, ' ' the Fire King replied. ' ' Get a heavier hammer, ' '
said the inspector, touching the spot immediately, and
walking off in disgust. The steel was all right, it was
merely overheated. Thereafter the Fire King's prestige
visibly diminished. He became the scorn of the furnaces ;
he was humbled and disgraced for ever. He was sub-
sequently put in charge of the damping-up of the
furnaces, and he styled himself foreman of the night
shift there, which was one, besides himself.
After all, " Tubby " is the best furnaceman. He
hails from Wales, " the true old country, where the men
comes from," according to him. Tubby is short, fat
and round, about the size of a thirty-six barrel, and he
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY i8i
is extremely short-legged. His head is quite bald and
shines well. His features are regular and well-formed.
He has an aristocratic nose, thick neck, and shoulders
shapeless with fat. At the fire he strips off his outer
shirt and only retains his flannel vest. The sleeves of
this are cut short to the shoulders and it is fastened at
the neck by means of strings threaded with a bodkin.
He drinks an enormous quantity of cold water, and it
is singular that he never uses a cup but swallows it
from the large two-gallon pot. To this habit he attri-
butes his uncommonly good health and fine proportions.
He is a genius at the fire. Whether the furnace be
in a good or bad condition he will soon have it as radiant
as a star, and he is marvellously cool at it. His speech
has a strongly Welsh accent and he talks with great
rapidity, especially when he happens to become excited.
At such times it is difficult to understand him ; he pours
out his words and sentences like a cataract.
Notwithstanding the old furnaceman's skill and general
inoffensiveness, he could not escape a little practical
joking at the hands of the youths. In the shed was an
iron bogie, in the shape of a box, just big enough to
contain his Falstaffian body. When he was on night
duty he always seized upon this as a sleeping bunk for
meal hours. Resting it upon the handles forward he
sat in it, with his head at the back and his feet hanging
over the front, and slept profoundly, with his arms
folded and a coat drawn over his face. When he had
fallen asleep several hard-hearted youths came up
quietly and attached a strong rope to each handle of
the bogie. They then raced off with it as fast as they
could travel, going out of the shed and returning by a
roundabout route to the furnace over bricks and stones,
steel rails, and anything else that happened to be in
the way. The jolting was terrific, but the bogie was
i82 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
drawn at such a rate that poor Tubby dared not attempt
to get out and was forced to endure it as best he could.
Arrived back at the furnace the youths speedily decamped
and Tubby never knew for certain who had perpetrated
the joke upon him in the darkness,
Dominus vobiscum. Et cum spiritu tuo. Domine
sanctorum. The old ash-wheeler leans on his shovel and
thus addresses you with profound gravity, as though
he were the reverend Father himself ministering to his
flock in the church. Boland is an Irishman and hails
from far Tipperary. He brought his old mother over
to England many years ago and has since dwelt in the
railway town. He is a typical Hibernian. He is square-
set and distinctive in feature, with heavy brows, thickish
nose, strong eyes, and firm, expressive mouth. Notwith-
standing the fact that he is slighted by the critical of
the shed he has a good many virtues ; underneath his
rough exterior is concealed a wealth of kindness and
good-nature. In common with the bulk of his race he
is a CathoHc in religion. If you should approach him
on the subject you would be surprised at his interest in
and affection for his Church and doctrine : he is im-
movable in his simple and childlike faith. In speaking
of any matters connected with it his voice wiU be
solemn and hushed; he is filled with reverence and
awe. Though not a very constant church-goer he yet
manages to attend at festival times and pays consider-
able attention to the sermon. He will always tell you
the text, and in summing up the Father's oratorical
abilities he tells you, as a climax, that he can " go back
in history two hundred years."
The last and most important of all to be dealt with
is Pinnell, of the Yankee Plant. He is by far the hardest
working man in the stamping shed. In the first place
he cannot help being a hard worker, for it is his nature
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 183
so to be. Rest and he are most inveterate enemies.
He must find something or other to do ; he could not
be idle though he tried never so hard. In the second
place he is bound to work hard. The job requires it,
or, at any rate, the " super " requires it, which is a
slightly different matter. Pinnell used to work one of
the small drop-stamps and was always remarkable for
his conscientiousness and dogged perseverance. He
was the first to start work and the last to finish. He
would never take a moment's spell. If there had been
no work he would promptly have made some, and have
kept plodding away at his forge and stamp. Accord-
ingly, when the miraculous tools from the other side of
the Atlantic — which, in the opinion of the Yankee in-
novator, were going to smash up the other section alto-
gether and displace half the men in the shed — were
introduced, Pinnell was the man selected to start the
process and lead the way for others. He had to demon-
strate what the machines were capable of doing, and
upon his output would be based the standard of prices
for those to follow after or work beside him.
The introduction of the Yankee hammers and the oil
furnaces for heating was the beginning of hustle in the
shed. Everything was designed for the man to start as
early as possible, to keep on mechanically to and from
the furnace and hammer with not the slightest pause,
except for meals, and to run till the very last moment.
His prices were fixed accordingly. Every operation
was correctly timed. The manager and overseer stood
together, watches in hand. It was so and so a minute ;
that would amount to so much in an hour, and so much
total for the day. If Pinnell flagged a little — it is dread-
ful to have to keep hammering away for hours in an
exhausted condition, with never a moment's pause — if
he flagged a little, or checked the oil somewhat in the
i84 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
forge, the overseer promptly set it going again and
pricked him on to greater effort, answering his words —
if he ever dared utter any — with a wheedHng and
plausible excuse, and telling him it was not at all hard ;
" Just a busy little job," and so forth. If nature re-
quired that he should leave the forge and walk across
the shed, that was the subject of a note — " One minute
and three-quarters gone." Did he think he could beat
the records of all the other men at the stamps? The
manager hoped he would try hard to do so, he wanted
the machine to be quite first in output. The prices
were weighed, chiselled, and pared with great exactness,
even to the splitting of a farthing : "A halfpenny is
too much for this job ; I shall give you three-eighths."
Moreover, the overseers only timed him in the morning,
after breakfast, which is the most active part of every
day, and when all are fresh and fit for work, or never, so
that the prices were fixed at a time when everything was
going at its best. It is impossible to maintain the same
speed in the afternoon, or even during the latter part of
the morning towards dinner-time, that one is capable
of after breakfast.
So Pinnell was little by little broken in to the new
conditions. Whatever protests he made were of no
avail. If the acute manager happened to make a slight
misjudgment and give him a fair price for a job, one or
other of the shed overseers — though always very flip
with him to his face — rushed off privately and informed
about it, and had it cut down to the dead level. Very
often the overseers competed with each other to see
which could make the lowest quotation in order to get
into favour with the managers. Once, after playing an
underhanded game in the fixing of prices, the foreman
even induced Pinnell to leave his hammer and forge and
go and protest to the manager himself, though he knew
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 185
very well the matter was nothing but a farce. When
the deluded one arrived at the office he was received
with studied courtesy. A httle arithmetic was entered
into, and it was proved beyond all doubt that the job
was well, and even generously, paid for. Accordingly,
feeling rather foolish at his boldness in going to the
manager and his failure to succeed in the matter, Pinnell
returned to his work, while the overseer stood in hiding
and watched him back to his hammer, laughing at his
simplicity.
When at last he found that there was no escape for
him, he settled down in despair, and decided to bury
himself at the toil. So exacting is the labour it admits
of no interest whatever in anything else. It is a body-
and soul-racking business, just that which keeps the
whole man in a crushed and subdued state, and makes
him a very part of the machinery he operates. It was
nothing but the man's natural zeal for work and grit
that kept him at the task. Night after night he went
home to his wife and children as tired as a dog, too tired
even to read the newspaper, or write a letter. He
simply sat in the chair or lay on the couch till bed-time,
completely worn out with the terrible exertions.
Very soon the abject misery of his condition found
expression in words to his workmates. He was con-
tinually wishing himself dead. He said he should like
to die out of it. Life was nothing but a heavy burden,
and there was nothing better in sight in the future ;
only the same kilUng toil day after day. He often
wondered when he should die. He had heart enough
for anything, but somehow he felt he could never keep
it up, and everyone told him he was " going home
sharp." At the same time, nothing would prevent him
from turning up at the hammer day after day ; iU or
well he was sure to be at his post. Sometimes, when
i86 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
his wife exhorted him to stay at home and recuperate
and locked the doors against him, in the early morning
he escaped to work through the window. There was
no detaining him at all ; he felt bound to come to the
shed and endure the daily punishment. To intensify
his sufferings everyone told him it was his own fault.
He had no one to blame but himself ; he should not
have been such a fool as to lend himself so easily to it,
they said.
So, eternally tired with the work — he has two forges
to attend to, he heats all his own bars, drives his own
hammer with the foot and operates the heavy trimmer
by the side of it in the same manner — half-choked and
blinded with the reeking smoke and fumes of the oil,
sore-footed with using the treadle, his arms Mistered
and burnt with the scale and hot water from the glands
and valves — they are very often in bandages — his hands
cut and torn with the sharp ends of the bars, or burned
with the hot ones that sometimes shoot out from the
die and sHp white-hot through his palm and fingers,
beaten and distressed with the heat, the gazing-stock
of everyone that passes through the shed and who look
upon him as a freak and a marvel, he keeps plodding
away, a much be-fooled and over-worked individual,
the utter victim of a cruel and callous system.
CHAPTER XII
FIRST QUARTER IN THE FORGE
" HEY-Up ! "
" What's up ? "
" Wake up ! "
" What's the matter ? "
" Get up ! "
" Go to hell ! "
" You-u-u ! Tell me to go to hell, will you ? I'll
smash you. I'll— I'll "
"Come on, then! Try it on! I'm not afraid of
you ! You're nobody ! "
" Well, wake up ! and jump about when I tell you."
" Wake up yourself, whitegut ! "
" Who are you calling whitegut, eh ? Who are you
calling whitegut ? "
" Who shot the sheep and had to pay for it ? "
" Blast you ! I've had enough of your jaw. I'll
put your head in that bucket of oil."
" Will ya ? You got to spell able first."
Scuffle, in which the younger is thrown down to the
ground, after which he gets up and runs away, crying :
" Baa-a-a ! "
" rU give you ' Baa-a-a ! ' Wait till I get hold of
you ! "
" Baa-a-a ! Baa-a-a ! "
" Take that I you-u-u ! " throwing a lump of coal
that misses him and goes flying through the office
window.
187
i88 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
"Ha! ha! ha! ha! ha!
' Everybody's doing it, doing it, doing it ;
Everybody's doing it now.' "
" Yes, and you'U be doing it directly ! 'Tis all your
fault. If you was to look after your work instead of
acting about so much that wouldn't have happened.
Blasted well light that fire up ! "
" Here's the gaffer comin'."
" A good job too ! I don't trouble."
" What the heU's up this end ? Ya on a'ready this
mornin' ? I'll send the pair of you home directly."
'I 'Tis my mate here. He's the cause of everything.
He's no good to me. He won't do nothing "
" D'ye hear this ? "
" I alius does mi whack."
" Don't talk to me. Hello ! What's this 'ere ?
Who bin smashin' the window ? Ther'll be hell to pop
over this. If I reports ya you'll be done for, both on
ya."
" Please, sir, I kicked a piece of coke and it went
through the pane."
" Hey ? "
" The hammer fled off the shaft and went through
the window."
" Why the devil don't 3'ou look after the shaft then,
and keep the wedges tight. You'U knock somebody's
head off presently. I daresay you was at that blasted
football again. The first I ketches at it I'll sack. Have
un clean off the ground. I'U give un football ! "
" Light that fire up, Laudy ! "
" Got a job on over 'ere, gaffer."
" Wha's the trouble ? "
" Top cyUnder busted, ram cracked, and the crown
of the furnace feU in."
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 189
" How did that happen ? "
" Night chaps, I s'pose. 'Twas done when we got
here this mornin'."
" You're out for the rest o' the wik then. Set yer
mind at rest on that. Damn it ! Everything happens
on nights. This blasted night work's a nuisance. Go
and tell Deep Sea and fetch the brickies, and get they
on to't. Wher's yer mates ? "
" Waitin' instructions."
" They can go home, and stop ther' if tha Hkes. Got
nothin' for 'em to do. Go and tell 'em."
" Sign this order, sir."
" Come on then, quick ! No time to mess about
with you. Hello ! Bailey's Best ! Wha's this for ? "
" Leg irons."
" You don't want best for them. Cable's good enough
for they. What ya thinkin' about ? "
" Have a look at this 'ere die, guvnor ? "
" Wha's up wi' he ? "
" Wants dressin' out, or else re-cuttin'."
" Spit in him, and get yer iron hot ! "
" Wanted on the telephone, quick ! Number fifteen
shop."
" Got no coke out at the hip, gaffer ! "
" The water tank's half empty."
" The glass on the boiler's smashed."
" Please, sir, the chargeman's out, and he got the key
of the box."
" And my mate bin an' squished the top of his finger
half off."
" Damn good job, too ! How many more on ya ? "
" Are you coming to answer number fifteen ? "
" Oh, be God ! "
" Another day doin' nothin'. You can never start
till the middle o' the wik."
igo LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Steady on with that oil, Laudy ! Steady on, I
tell you ! He'll go off directly."
BANG ! "
There ! What did I tell you ! "
" Oh, Christ ! My eyes got it."
" Serves you damn well right ! I told you on it.
You got the front half out now. Get some oily waste,"
" There's plenty here."
" You haven't got the back stopped up yet. Get
some wet sand and stop that hole up. Now then !
Be quick with you ! "
" Steady on a bit, then ! I don't want to get burned
to death."
" Serve you right if you was to ! "
" Steady on, I say ! Damn well do it yourself then !
I'm not going to get myself burned."
" I shut him off. Make haste with you. Ya ready ? "
" Right."
Foo-oo-oo-oo-oo.
" What a blasted smoke ! Shut some of that oil
off."
" Let it alone ! That won't hurt. We wants to get
on."
" It gets down my inside. I shall spew in a minute"
"That'll do you good."
" Shut some of it off."
" Let it alone, I tell you ! "
" I'm not going to be pizened."
" 'Tis no worse for you than 'tis for me."
" I can't see two yards."
" HeUo ! Hello ! What the hell's on there ? "
'" Sweep ! Sweep ! Sweep ! "
" Steady on with that oil, mate ! We gets all the
smoke here."
" I can't help it."
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 191
" Yes you can help it, too ! Shut some of that oil
off."
" That won't make no difference."
" Wind off, mate ! and hammer down. This is a
bit too thick. Hey ! Gaffer ! Are we expected to
work in this ? "
" That'll kill the worms in yer guts."
" I can't stand this. My head aches splittin'. I'm
half-smothered."
" We don't care a damn about the smoke, mate, as
long as we can get the iron hot. 'Tis no worse for you
than 'tis for the rest. If you don't like it you can stop
out. There's plenty more to take yer place."
" That's all you get for your trouble ! Wants the
inspector in here. It's worse than bein' up the chim-
muck. Go on, mate ! Hammer up, Jim.' "
" He'll be all right directly, old man. He ain't got
hot yet."
" Hot, be hanged ! He ought to be dropped in the
middle of the sea, and you along with him ! The pair
of you ought to be down with the Titanic."
" Don't talk wet ! "
" Come on, Laudy ! and put some pieces in the fire."
" I ain't filled the lubricators yet."
" Ain't filled the lubricators ! What ya bin at this
half-hour ? "
" God ! Give us a chance."
" 'Twill be breakfast-time before we makes a start."
" I wish 'tood be ! I wants mine."
" What the hell a' ya talkin' about ? "
" Baa-a-a ! "
" Now then ! You knows what I told you ! Get
and put some pieces in the fire."
" Can't find my tongs now."
" Where did you leave 'em last night ? "
192 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Chucked 'em down."
" What's this here ? "
" That en' them."
" Damn well go and look for 'em then. You'll lose
your head directly."
" Strike a light, mate ! That key's in there tight."
" Look out ! Hold that bar up."
" I wants the tongs first."
" I shan't hit you."
" I don' know so much."
" Come on ! A couple o' blows'll do the trick."
" Not in these trousers ! "
" Old Ernie's thinkin' about the Tango."
" The tangle, more hkely."
" Don't you worry, mate ! "
" Ya got him ? "
" Right ! "
Slap, slap, slap.
" Whoa ! Wait a minute. That hammer's comin' off."
" Hold him up."
" Is he shifted ? "
" He's gone a bit, I think."
" Hold your hand the other side, and feel him."
" Now go on. Steady, mate ! "
Slap, slap.
" Ho ! Hooray ! "
" What did I tell you ? "
" Everybody's doin' it, doin' it, doin' it."
" Our mate's strong this mornin'. He bin eatin'
onions.'
" Give us a bit of that packing. That thin piece !
Now get the pinch bar, and prise the monkey up."
" How's that ? "
" A bit higher. Right ! That'U do."
" Key in ? "
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 193
" Ah ! Slap him in."
" Give us the sledge."
" Get that big un."
" Shaft's broke in two."
" Get the furnace one, then."
" How about packing ? "
" Same as before."
" Look out, then ! "
" Blow up, mate ? "
" Right away with you."
" How tight do you want him ? "
" As tight as you can get him. Slip him in. That'll
do now."
" Hey-yup ! Hammer up. He's burned a bit, mate."
" Be hanged ! You only got half a piece."
" Can't help it. That was stoppin' to get the key
out."
" Go on. Hit him ! "
Bang, bang, bang.
" Whoa ! That'll do."
" What's the dies Hke, chum ? "
" All right now."
" Blow up ? "
" Ah ! Let's have you."
" Tool up, mate ! "
" The chain's twisted."
" Can't you see it's upside down ! D'you want to
smash the bounder ? Now go on."
Bang.
" Light again."
Bang.
" That'll do. Oil up."
1 " Pi, Pi, Balli! Let's have you! whack 'em along
there ! "
1 iral, TToi, ;8dXXe = Boy! boy! whack 'em along.
N
194 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Hullo ! "
Whizz.
" As quick as you like, mate ! We've got to move
to-day. Hit him, there ! "
Bang, bang, bang.
" Whoa ! Tool up, quick ! Light, now ! "
Bang.
" One more. Light ! "
Bang.
" That got him."
"Pi, Pi, BaUi! AU hot! AU hot! Let's have
you ! "
Whizz.
" Hooray ! "
''Not much afore breakfast, but look out aater ! "
" Wormy 's makin' some scrap on the next fire. Look
at 'im ! "
" Rat, O ! Rat, O ! Get that rat out o' the fire, old
man."
" Don't burn 'em ! Don't burn 'em ! "
" Another snider, O ! "
" The blasted jumper won't work."
" Oil they tongs a bit."
" Pizen that rat in the fire."
"Go to the boneyard and dig Smamer up, and fetch
he back."
" What the hell are ya talking about ? Don't you
never spile one ? "
" Hair off 1 Hair off ! "
" Don't get your bracers twisted."
" TeU him off, kid."
" I'll put my hand in your mouth directly."
" You're the finest worm I've ever seen."
" Come on here, and not so much of your old buck 1 "
" Get out of the road, and let Pep have a try."
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 195
" Damn well get away from here ! Who the hell can
hot iron with you about ? Your face is enough to spoil
anything."
" Get 'em hot ! Get 'em hot ! "
" Get hold of that lever, you reptile ! "
" I've seen better things than you crawling on
cabbages."
" How's that ? Will that do for you ? "
Whizz. Slap.
" Get that muck out o' your fire."
" Hit him hard ! Right up."
Bang, bang, bang. Knock.
" Keep off the top ! "
" You said right up."
" Shut some of that steam off."
" Steam's aU right."
• " Shut it off, I tell you ! "
" Shut it off yourself ! Mind the tongs, or you'll
get it."
Bafig, bang, bang, bang.
" Don't answer me back or I'll flatten j^ou out."
" Nothing's never right for you. You ought to be in
a bigger town."
" Tool up, there ! "
" Rope's off the wheel, mate ! "
" Shut the blasted wind off."
" He's cut all to pieces,"
" Tha's knockin' the top. I told you of it. I shall
ast the gaffer for another mate. This'll take us till
dinner-time. Go and get the spanners, and ast Sid for
a new rope, and look sharp about it ! "
"Now, Laudy! Wake up with you! We shan't
earn damn salt."
" I don't trouble. I can't help it."
" Well ! Come on, then."
1^6 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Tongs won't hold 'em."
" Get another pair."
" Which uns ? "
" There's plenty more about."
" I'm sick o' this job."
"You don't like work."
" 'Cause you're so fond of it ! "
" Don't waste them ends off. They won't fill up as
it is."
" I reckon the fella as started work ought to come
back and finish it."
Crack.
Boom.
Bump.
" Don't burn the damn things ! Look at that ! All
over me."
" My clothes is afire."
" What's yer Uttle game there, eh ? Med as well kill
a fella as frighten him to death."
" Oo ! My grub got it ! "
" Get these others out first."
" What O ! I'm not goin' to see my grub burn.
What do yon think ? "
" AU the damn lot'll be spoiled."
" I don't care a cuss ! I got some tiger in there."
" Steady that oil a bit."
" God ! Doan it stink ! "
" Shut some of it off, I tell you. It's running all over
the place."
" Half on it's water."
" That second one there, and keep to the top row."
" Hey-up ! "
Crack.
" Why don't you be careful ? "
Snap. Bump.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 197
" Back tool's jammed now."
" The safety bolt's broke."
" Shut the belt off."
" Look out, then ! "
" Stop the oil, and pull them others out."
" Let 'em alone ! We shan't be a minute."
" Well ! Jump about then."
" Here's Calliper King comin' ! "
" Tell him to clear off. We can do very well without
him. That fellow makes me bad."
" If you was to put the spanner on the nuts sometimes
you wouldn't get half the trouble."
" All right, mate ! There's no damage done. We
can't think of everything."
" Your bearings are hot."
" They'll get cold directly."
" You might get them seized."
" Damn good job ! Shove some oil into 'em, kid ! "
" Who are you calling kid ? "
" Look out, there ! "
" I shall report you, mind ! "
" You can please yourself. 'Twon't be the first time.
If you'll only keep out o' the road we shall be all right.
Blow up, Laudy ! "
Foo-00-00-00-00.
" Pull the belt over."
" Right ? "
"I'm ready."
" Take him, then."
Crack.
Click, clack. Bump.
" How's that ? "
" That got him. Now we shan't be long ! "
" Yip ho ! All new uns ! "
" I got that pistol in my pocket."
198 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Is he any good? "
" Kill at hundred and twenty."
" What ? Inches ? "
" Inches be damned ! Yards, man ! "
" You never killed anything with him."
" Ain't he, though ? I know he have."
" What have you killed ? A dead cat ? "
" Dead cat ! You're afraid to let me try him on you."
" You couldn't hit a barn door."
" I tell you what I done."
"What's that? Oh! I know. Who shot the
sheep ? Baa-a-a ! "
" Shut your blasted head ! "
" Pride o' the Prairie ! Got any cartridges ? "
" Half a boxful."
" Slugs or bullets ? "
" Slugs."
" Let's have a look ! "
" Get this work done first. 'Twill be breakfast-
time directly."
" Hey-up ! He's slightly wasted."
" I should blasted well think so."
Crack.
Boom.
" Hello ! There's another snider ! "
Bang.
" Keep him there ! We don't want your scrap."
" Pi, Pi, Balh ! Tha's a good heat, mate ! "
" We haven't done anything yet."
" What ! Tell somebody else that yarn ! Hear that,
Jim ? "
" Wha's up ? "
" Chargeman says we ain't done nothin' yet."
" More we ain't, have us ? "
" Have us not ! Tha's only a rumour."
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 199
" I didn't think we had."
" You bin asleep an' only just woke up. All good
uns, too."
" We shall want 'em, bi what I can see on it."
" What d'ya mean ? "
" Look at the next hammer ! They won't start
to-day."
" How's that, mate ? "
Whizz.
" Mind my toe."
" Good shot, that ! "
" Cool your tongs out."
" Have a drink."
" Put it on the anvil."
Bang, hang, hang.
" Whoa ! Tool."
" Ain't he slippy ! "
" Light blow."
Bang.
" That takes a bit of doing, one hand ! "
" Come on, Lightning ! "
" Unknown swank ! "
"All hot! All hot!"
" You'll get the price cut directly."
" Come and see the boys ! "
" I'm a-lookin' at ya ! "
" Ain't a burned one yet."
" Don't make a song about it."
" You got a good mate on the hammer."
" Fifty without stoppin' the wind. All new uns ! "
" See who you are ! "
" Stand back, and mind the mallet ! There's one
for you. Wormy ! "
" Take a couple, mate ? "
" Come on with 'em."
200 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
Slap, slap.
Ba7ig, hang, hang.
Bang, hang, hang.
" Fire's gettin' low. Wants some more coke up."
" Wher' d'ye want thase few pieces, Willums ! "
" Tip 'em up anywhere, Mat ! "
" All you'll get to-day."
" You're talking wet. They won't last five minutes."
" You'll hef to see gaffer, then. We got to channge
knives."
" Get out of the road, or you'll get your whiskers
singed."
" Dossent thee fret thy kidneys. This is too damn
hot for me. You got no room to mauve."
" Somebody got to do a bit."
" Thee dossent do't all."
" You'd have to go home if I did."
" Top hammer's stopped now. Middle un's ready."
" What's up a-top ? Going to start, there ? See
that rope's all right ! Have the sharp edges took off
the wheel."
" We be done for."
" What's the matter ? "
" Top block broke. Only had forty more to do."
" Ram up, and get your dies out. Give a hand
there, mates."
" 'Tis all bad luck this mornin', ain' it ? "
" 'Tis the chaps as make the luck. What do you
think ? We get on aU right."
" Here's the bummer in a tear."
" Why the hell don't you be careful ! You'll break
all the tackle in creation. First one thing and then
another. Ropes and wheels and dies. You wants to
go home for a month. That 'ood teach 'e a lesson.
You don't trouble a damn for nothing."
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 201
" I asked the fitters to see to it, and they wouldn't
come."
" That block was never strong enough for the
job."
" Go an' fetch Moses. What ya goin' to put in
next ? "
" Pull-rod levers. Die seventy-two."
" Don' want them. Put in hunderd an' one."
" Chargeman says levers. Wanted urgent. Chaps
bin up after 'em."
" Let 'em wait. I'm the foreman. You knows
that."
" All right, Don' make no difference to me."
" Did you send for me ? "
" I did. Get on wi' new blocks for piston rods."
" Any alterations ? "
" Not as I knows on."
" We've had complaints about the others."
" I don't care. Let 'em file 'em. The devils be never
satisfied.'"
" Better have 'em a bit stiffer ? "
" They'm stiff enough. They wasn't set level."
" They was as level as a billiard table, gaffer ! "
" I could a' shoved my finger underneath 'em."
" I had 'em packed tight everywhere."
" Then you didn't have yer iron hot, 'Tis no good
to arg' the point. Take care wi' the next lot,
mind ! "
" Let him go to hell ! He'd make anybody a damn
har. Key out. Hang on to that spanner. Damp
up, and shut the blower off. Fetch the iron trucks.
We shall want some help to get these out o' the
way."
" Billy, sing that song,
That good old song to me ! "
202 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Now, Jacko ! Give us a hand here."
" I can't. My leg's bad."
" That won't hurt your leg, will it ? I wants your
hand, not your leg. 'Tis all in the gang."
" I got one stuck on the jumper."
"All right. Blind you! We'll do it ourselves. This
is a show ! Come on, mates ! Keep the handles down,
and mind he don't tip."
" Give him a blow on that bar to get him off the
jumper, can't ya ; and don't stick up there doin' nothin'.
You ain't heard our mate's new nickname, have you,
Wormy ? "
" No. What's that ? "
" Flannel. Know why that is ? "
" No."
" Cos water alius makes him shrink. Look at him !
The only curly-headed boy in the family ! "
" You hump-backed, monkey-faced baa-boon ! You
broke loose from the Zoo, you did. I won't hit another
stroke for nobody, now, damn if I do ! "
" Get out ! I'll spiflicate you ! "
" I'll bash the tongs across your head."
" What ya goin' to do ? Take that ! Now what
ya goin' to do ? I've had enough of your jaw."
" Let the kid alone, can't you ! "
" I'll get my own back on him, before night, see if I
don't. I'll drop the hammer on his head."
" Fetch him out, Wormy ! "
" Hey-yup ! "
Whizz-z-z.
" Keep that hammer still, wiU. ya ! Hit him if you
dares ! Now go on. Steady ! "
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
" Whoa ! whoa ! steady ! steady ! Light when I
tell ya ! "
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 203
Bang, bang, bang, bang, bang, bang.
" Blast you ! What a' you doin' ? You smashed
him all to pieces."
" I told you I'd do it."
" Workin' your breakfast-time, there ? "
" Goin' to keep on all day ? "
" Ain't you goin' to chuck up ? "
" How's the balance ? "
" What ! only just started ? "
" Whack 'em along ! "
" How many more ? "
" Work 'em out ! "
" What time is it ? "
" 'Ere's old Sid with the checks ! "
" What's up, Flannigan ? "
" Only wants two minutes ! "
" Flatfoot's gone by."
" You're on late, mate ! "
" What's going to happen ? "
"Got a book-ful? "
" Tool up, there ! "
" Put him up yourself ! "
" Put that tool up. Wormy, and catch hold o' that
lever."
" Light blow ! "
Bang.
" Whoa ! That'll do."
" What cheer, Sid ! "
" Stand back, here, and let's get by."
" Wants a lot o' room for a little un, don't ya ? "
" Not so much as you. Not so much as you. My
time's precious, not like yourn. We got summat to
do, we have."
" Ah ! Sit on your backside an' count they checks
out, that's aU."
204 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Goin' to have your bit o' brass when I offers it to
you ? "
" Put him on the anvil."
" Shan't ! Take him in your hand. Lose him, and
then blame me."
" My hand's oUey ! "
" Don' matter ! Wipe him in your breeches, can't
you ? Come on, kidney bean-stick ! "
" Little fat maggot ! "
" Go on, bones ! "
" Pimple on a cabbage ! "
" Alpheus ! "
" Sideus ! "
" Nemo mortalium omnibus horis sapit! "
" a-(fipayiSovvxo.pyoKO[ji7]Tr]s."
" Lend my father your wheelbarrow ! "
" Using your knife breakfast-time, kid ? "
" No ! I got bread and scrape."
" Who got the frying-pan ? "
" You can have him for a fag."
" I got a bit o' dead dog, I have."
" What d'ya call it ? Looks hke a bit of Irish."
" That never died a natural death ! "
" That drove many a man up a tree ! "
" Lend us that catalogue of fireaims, Dick ! "
" He's underneath the bucket."
" How much longer ya going to keep on ? "
" I wants to get my blocks right afore breakfast."
" Laudy ! You left that rotten stinking oil on."
" No, I didn't ! "
" Yes you did ! Stop it off, and put that board in
the hole ! "
" I tell you it's shut off. That's only the stink you
can smell."
" It makes me feel rotten. I shan't want any grub."
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 205
" Ain't it damn hot ! We shall be dead afore night."
" Hit him, Wormy ! "
Bang, bang, bang.
" Whoa ! "
" What's the die like ? "
" Wants to go over a bit yet."
" Chuck it up ! "
" Lie down, can't you ! "
" Mind your own business ! "
" Put him through the tool."
" Got the coke ready for after breakfast, Jim ? "
" Ah ! "
" I'm going to put you through your facings, by and
by."
" I don't trouble ! I ben' a-goin' to work no harder
for nobody."
" Look out for Ratty ! He's peepin' about. He's
going to report the first one as puts his coat on afore
the hooter goes."
" He's worse than old Wanky ! "
" 'Tis all damn watchmen here ! "
" How's the minutes ? "
" It's quarter past."
" There's the buzzer ! "
" There he goes ! "
" Tools down, mates ! "
" Whack 'em down ! "
" Hooter ! "
" Hoo-ter-r ! "
" Hoo-00-ter-r-r ! "
CHAPTER XIII
THE NIGHT SHIFT — ARRIVAL IN THE SHED — " FOLLOWING
THE TOOL " — THE FORGEMAN'S HASTE AND BUSTLE —
LIGHT AND SHADE — SUPPER-TIME — CLATTER AND
CLANG — MIDNIGHT — WEARINESS — THE RELEASE —
HOME TO REST
Whatever the trials of the day shift at the forge may
be, those of the night turn are sure to be far greater.
For the da^^time is the natural period of both physical
and mental activity. The strong workman, after a
good night's rest and sleep, comes to the task fresh,
keen, vigorous, and courageous. Though the day before
him be painfully long — almost endless in his eyes — he
feels fit to do battle with it, for he has a reserve of
energy. In the earh* morning, before breakfast, he is
not at his best. He has not yet "got into his stride,"
he tells you. His full strength does not come upon him
suddenly, it develops graduall3^ He can spend and
spend and spend, but cannot exhaust. Nature's great
battery continues to yield fresh power until the turn of
the afternoon. Then the rigid muscles relax, and the
flesh shows loose and flabb3^ The eyes are dull, the
features drawn ; the whole body is tired and languid.
But this is with the day shift, working in the natural
order of tilings. A great change is to be observed in
the case of the night turn. There nature is inverted ;
the whol^ scheme is reversed. The workman, unless
he is well seasoned to it, cannot summon up any energy
at all, and he cannot conquer habit, not after months, or
206
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 207
even years of the change. When, by the rule of nature,
he should be at his strongest and the exigencies of the
night shift require that he should sleep, that strength,
bubbling up, keeps him awake, dead tired though he
be, and when he requires to be active and vigorous just
the reverse obtains. The energy has subsided, the sap
has gone down from the tree. Nature has retired, and
all the coaxing in the world will not induce her to come
forth until such time as the day dawns and she steals
back upon him of her own free will. That is what,
most of all, distinguishes the night from the day shift,
and makes it so wearisome for the pale-faced toilers.
There is a poignancy in preparing for the night shift,
the feeling is really one of tragedy. This is where the
unnaturalness begins. Everyone but you is going home
to rest, to revel in the sweet society of wife and children,
or parents, to enjoy the greatest pleasure of the workers'
day — the evening meal, the happy fireside, a few short
hours of simple pleasure or recreation and, afterwards,
the honey-dew of slumber. As you walk along the
lane or street towards the factory 5^ou meet the toilers
in single file, or two abreast, or marching like an army,
in compact squads and groups, or straggling here and
there. The boys and youths move smartly and quickly,
laughing and talking ; the men proceed more soberly,
some upright with firm step and cheerful countenance,
others bent and stooping, dragging their weary limbs
along in silence like tired warriors retreating after the
hard-fought battle.
There is also the inward sense and knowledge of even-
ing, for, however much you may deceive your external
self, you cannot deceive Nature. Forget yourself as
much as yon please, she always remembers the hour
and the minute ; she is far more painstaking and
punctual than we are. The time of day fills you with
2o8 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
a sweet sadness. The summer sun entering into the
broad, gold-flooded west, the soft, autumn twihght,
or the gathering shades of the winter evening, all tell
the same story. It is drawing towards night ; night
that was made for man, when very nature reposes ;
night for pleasure and rest, for peace, joy, and com-
pensations, while you — here are you off. to sweat and
slave for twelve dreary hours in a modern inferno, in
the Cyclops' den, with the everlasting wheels, the smoke
and steam, the flaring furnace and piles of blazing hot
metal all around you.
Within the entrance the place seems almost deserted.
The huge sheds have poured out their swarms of work-
men. The black-looking crowds have disappeared, and
the great, iron-bound doors are closed up and locked.
The watchmen, who have been patrolling the yard and
supervising the exodus of the toilers, are returning to
their quarters. Only the rooks are to be seen scavenging
up the fragments of bread and waste victuals which
the men have thrown out of their pockets for them.
Arrived at the shed you are greeted with the famihar
and dreadful din of the boilers priming, the loud roar
of the blast and the whirl of the wheels. The rush of
hot air almost overpowers you. You feel nearly suffo-
cated already, and half stagger through the smoke and
steam to reach your fire and machine standing under
the dark, sooty wall. As you thread your way in and
out between the furnaces and among the piles of iron
and steel you receive a severe dig in the ribs with the
long handle of the man's shovel who is cleaning out the
cinders and chnker from beneath the furnaces, or the
ash-wheeler, stripped to the waist and dripping with
perspiration, runs against you roughly with his wheel-
barrow and utters a loud " Hey-up ! " or otherwise
assails you with " Hout o' the road, else I'll knock tha
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 209
down," and hurries off up the stage to deposit his load
and then comes down again to get in a stock of coal
from the waggon for the furnaces. Here the smith is
preparing his fire, while his mate breaks up the coke
with the heavy mallet ; the yellow flames and cinders
are leaping up from the open forge by the steam saw.
The oil furnaces are puffing away and spitting out
their densest clouds of pitchy smoke, fihing the shed,
while the stamper fixes his dies and oils round, or half
runs to the shears in the corner and demands his stock
of iron bars to be brought forthwith. The old furnace-
man, sweating from the operation of clinkering, shovels
in the coal and disposes it with the ravel. The forging
hammers ghde up and down, clicking against the self-
act, while the forger and his mates manipulate the
crane and ingot, or charge in the blooms or piles. Every-
one is in a desperate hurry, eager to start on with the
work and get ahead of Nature, before she flags too much.
It is useless to wait till midnight, or count upon efforts
to be made in the hours of the morning.
All this is during your entry to the shed and often
before the official hour for starting work. On coming
to your post you, too, strip off hat, coat, t and vest, and
hang them up in the shadow of the forge, then bind
the leathern apron about your waist, see to your own
fire and tools — tongs, sets, flatters, and sledges — obtain
water from the tap by the wall, shout " Hammer up ! "
to your mate, and prepare to thump away with the rest.
The heat of the shed in the evening, from six o'clock
till ten o'clock, is terrific in the summer months. For
hours and hours the furnaces and boilers have been
raging, fuming, and pouring out their interminable
volumes of invisible vapour ; the sun without, and the
fires within have made it almost unbearable. The
floor plates, the iron principals, the machine frames,
O
210 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
the uprights of the hammers — everything is full of heat ;
the water in the feed-pipes is so hot as to startle you.
As the hour draws on, towards nine or ten o'clock,
this diminishes somewhat. The cool night air envelops
the shed and enters in through the doors, restoring the
normal temperature, though, if the night be muggy,
there will be scarcely any diminution of the punishment
till the early morning, when there is always a cooling
down of the atmosphere.
Now the general toil commences in every corner of
the smithy. The brawny forger pulls, tugs, or pushes
the heavy porter ; the stamper runs out with his white-
hot bar, spluttering and hissing, and poises one foot on
the treadle while he adjusts it over the die, then P«w-
tcku, pom-tchu, ping-tchu, ping-tchu, goes the hammer,
and over he turns it deftly, blows away the scale and
excrescence with the compressed air, and pom-tchu,
ping-ichu, again repHes the hammer. Here he claps
the forging in the trimmer, click goes the self-act, and
down comes the tool. The finished article drops through
on to the ground ; the stamper thrusts the bar into the
furnace, turns on more oil and off he goes again. The
sparks swish and fly everywhere, travelling to the
furthest wall ; he wipes away the sweat with the
blistered back of his hand, looking half-asleep, and
rolls the quid of tobacco in his cheek.
Hard by the smith is busy with his forge and tools.
His mate is ghastly pale and thin in the yellow firelight,
though he himself looks fat and well. He sets the blast
on gently till the iron is nearly fit, then applies the
whole volume, to put on the finishing touch and make
the iron soft and " mellow." This lifts up the white
cinders in clouds and blows them out of the front also,
so that now and then they lodge on the blacksmith's
arms and in his hair, but he shakes them off and takes
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 211
little notice of them. He jerks the jumper up and
down once or twice, turns the heat round quickly, then
shuts off the blast, and with a lion-hke grip of the tongs,
brings it to the anvil and lays on with his hand-hammer,
while his mate plies the sledge. Presently he throws
down his hammer, grips the " set tool " or " flatter,"
and his mate continues to strike upon it till the work
is completed. If the striker is not proficient and misses
once or twice, he jerks out, in a friendly tone — " On the
top, or go home," or, "Go and get some chalk" — i.e.,
to whiten the tool — or, " Follow the tool, follow the tool,
you okkerd fella." Once, when a smith had a strange
mate — a raw hand — with him, and bade him to " Follow
the tool," when he put that down the striker continued
to go for it tiU it flew up and nearly knocked out the
smith's eye, but he excused himself on the ground that
he thought he had to " foUow the tool."
Here is a skinny, half-naked fellow, striving with all
his might to draw a heavy bogie piled up with new
blooms, half a ton or more in weight. His head is
thrown far forward, about a yard from the ground.
His arms, thin and small, are strained like rods of iron
behind his back ; only his toes grip the ground. He
shouts out to someone near for help.
" Hey ! Gi' us a shove a minute."
" Gi' thee tha itch ! Ast the gaffer for a mate. I
got mi own work to do," the other replies, and keeps
hammering away.
Next is a belated stamper in want of tools. " Hast
got a per o' tongs to len' us a minute, ole pal ? "
" Shove off wi' thee and make a pair, or else buy some,
like I got to. Nobody never lends I nothin'," is the
answer he receives.
This one wants a blow. " Come an' gi' I a blow
yer."
212 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" Gi' thee a blow on the head. I got no time to mess
about \vi' thee."
Another is concerned as to the hour — there are those
whose thoughts are always of the clock, anxiously
awaiting the next stop. " Wliat time is it, mate ? "
" Aw ! time thee wast better," or " Same as 'twas
last night at this time. Thee hasn't bin yer five
minutes it."
Perhaps the steam pressure is low. " Wha's bin at
wi' the steam, matey ? We chaps can't hit a stroke."
" Got twisted in the pipes, I 'spect. Go an' put thi
blower on, an' fire up a bit, an' run that slag out."
This one cannot obtain his supply of bars from the
shears. " Now Matty ! Hasn't got that iron cut ?
I can't wait about for thee."
" D^^alnt thee be in sich a caddie. Thee ootn't get
it none the zooner. Other people got to live as well
as thee, dost naa ! "
" All right ! I shall go and see he," (the overseer).
" Thee cast go an' do jest whatever thee bist a-mine
to. 'Twunt make a 'appoth o' difference."
By and by the overseer comes up and shouts — " Hey !
Can't you let these chaps on, Matthews ? "
" No, I caan't ! Tha'U hef to woite a bit. Ther's
some as bin a-woitin' all night, ver nigh. 'Tis no good
to plag' I, else ya wunt get nothin' done at aU."
Here is the forger bellowing at Ms driver. "Go on!
Go on ! Hit him ! Hit him ! Hit him ! Light, ther' !
Light ! 'Old on ! 'Old on ! Whoa, then ! Castn't
stop when I tells tha ? Dost want to spile the jilly
thing ? Gi' us up they gauges. A's too thick now.
Up a bit, ther ! Hit un agyen ! Light now ! Light !
Light! That'U do! Whoa! Take 'old o' this bar,
an' gi' us that cutter. Now, Strawberry ! turn 'e over
in the fire, an' don' stand ther' a-gappatin'. 'Aaf thi
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 213
'ed '11 drop off in a minute. Ther's a lot to do yet, else
ya won' get no balance, Hout o' the road, oot ! "
" Haw-w-right. Kip yer wool on. 'Tis a long time
to mornin' it. Thee bist alius in a caddie," the other
answers.
" Shet thi 'ed, an' mind thi own business, else I'll
fetch the gaffer to thee ! Pull up ther', an' le's 'ev un
out on't. We be all be'ind agyen ! Everybody else
ull a done afore we begins ! Hang on to that chayn,
Fodgy ! Now then ! All together ! Ugh ! "
So the ingot is brought out with shouts and cries,
the ratthng and jinghng of chains and the loud roaring
of steam in the roof outside. The blaze of the furnace
and the spluttering, white-hot metal make it as light as
day in the shed. The forger and his mates stagger
under the weight of the ingot and porter-bar and in-
cUne their heads to escape the fierce heat. Their faces
and necks are burnt red and purple — of the colour of
blood-poisoning. Their shirt sleeves are hanging loose
to protect their arms ; they wear thin, round calico caps
on their heads and leathern aprons about their waists.
At the first blow or two the sparks shriek around, and
especially if the ingot is of steel and happens to be well-
heated. The smiths yell out at the top of their voice
and rush to save their clothes hanging up beside the
forge. The men's faces look transfigured in the bright
light. Their shadows, huge, weird, and fantastic, reach
high up the wall, even to the roof. The smallest object
is thrown into relief and the shafts of the sledges cast
a shadow as sharp and clear as from the sun at mid-day.
As the mighty steel monkey descends, half covering the
white mass, the shadow falls on the roof, walls, and
machinery around, and rises as the smooth, shapely
piston glides upward into the cyHnder ; up and down,
up and down it goes, like the rising and falling of a
214 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
curtain. This continues till the heat of the forging
diminishes and the rays of the metal are no longer
capable of overpowering the light cast out from the fire-
holes and the smoky, sleepy-looking gas-jets hanging
in hues adown the smithy.
As the iron becomes cooler the hammer beats harder
and harder. The oscillation is very great and the
sound nearly approaches a ring. The steam roars over-
head and leaks and hisses through the joints of the
pipes and glands. The oil in the stamper's dies explodes
with a cannon-Hke report. The huge hydrauHc engines
tchu-tchu outside ; the wheels whirr and hum away in
the roof, and the smith's tools clang out or ring sharply
on the anvil. Without, through the open doors, the
night shows inky black ; the smoke and steam beat
down and are blown in with the wind, or the fog is sucked
in quickly by the currents. Now the rain beats hard
on the roof and runs through in streams, while the wind
clatters between the stacks and ventilators overhead
with a noise like thunder ; or, if it is mid-winter, the
light, featheryenergy begins to bubble up within
you ; you feel to be approaching the normal condition
again. The fatigue now gives place to a feeHng of un-
reality and stupidity ; you seem to be dazed and irrit-
able, as though you had been aroused from sleep before
the accustomed time. Now you experience deep pains
in the chest, resulting from loss of sleep. The head
aches as though it would burst and the eyes are very
painful and " gritty," but you feel cheered, neverthe-
less, with the thought of daylight, the coming cessation
from toil, and the opportunity of obtaining a breath of
fresh, pure air again. The overseer slips to and fro
quickly about this time in order to keep the men well
on the move, pricking here and prodding there, and
visiting those whom he knows will tell him all the news
of the night's work — such as may have escaped him.
The toilers pay him but little attention, however, and
keep plodding languidly away.
Steadily, as the day dawns, the light within increases,
red, white, or golden, stealing through the thick glass of
the roof or by the wide open doors, and soon after one
appears with a long staff and turns off all the gas. It
is really day once more, and there is not much longer to
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 223
go. At twenty minutes past five the hooter sounds
loudly, calling up the men of the day shift, and the
pace flags visibly. A few, however, who have not done
any too well in the middle hours of the night, hammer
away with increased energy right up to the last, for they
know the day overseers and the chargemen will go
round and feel the forgings to see how late the others
were toiling. If the iron is cool they know that their
mates have been dilatory and the tale is told around.
A few minutes before six o'clock the engines slow
down and stop and the roar of the blast ceases. The
steam-hammers are lowered with a loud thud and the
furnace fires are banked up ; the mighty toil is over,
for this turn, at any rate. Now the forgers and stampers
unbind their aprons and roll them up ; the smiths stow
their tools, placing these in the iron box and those in
the boshes of water to soak the shafts and tighten the
handles of the sledges. After that they swill their hands
at the tap, put on muffler, jacket, or great-coat, and file
out of the shed — dirty, dusty, tired and sleepy-looking.
Not for them the joy of morning, the vigour, freshness
and bloom, the keen delight in the open air, the happy
heart and elevated spirit. They slouch away through
the living stream of the day toilers now arriving as black
as sweeps, half-blinded with the bright daylight, blink-
ing and sighing, feeling unutterably and unnaturally
tired, out of sorts and out of place, too, and crawl home,
like rats to their holes, to snatch a little rest, and re-
cuperate for new efforts to be made on the following
turn.
Few of the men's wives or parents in the town will
be up to welcome them at that early hour and provide
them with warm tea and a breakfast. Accordingly,
some go home and straight to bed without food at all,
a few walk about the streets or out towards the country
224 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
for an hour or so till the home fire is lit, while others
go home and get the breakfast themselves. Perhaps,
if trade in the shed is brisk, they will be required to
work overtime till eight or nine o'clock. I have done
this for months at a stretch and afterwards walked home
to the village, ofttimes sitting down on the roadside to
rest, reaching home at about ten o'clock and getting
to bed an hour before noon, to be awakened by every
slight noise without the house. At one time I was
aroused by the old church clock striking, at another by
the sound of the school bell, or the children at play
underneath the window, or by the farm waggon. At
four in the afternoon, rested or not, you must rise again,
wash and dress, snatch a hasty meal, and plod off to the
town, four miles distant, forgetful of everytliing behind
you — the gentle peace of the village, the long hue of
dreamy-looking hills, the haymakers in the field, the
sweetly sorrowful sound of the threshing machine by
the ricks in the farmyard, the eternal pageantry of the
heavens, the whole natural hfe and scenery of the world.
The knowledge of the loss hes hke lead at the heart and
fills one with a keen regret, a poignant sense of the cruelty
of the industrial system and your own weakness with
it ; yet one must hve. But there is real tragedy in
working the night shift at the forge.
CHAPTER XIV
INFERIORITY OF WORK MADE BY THE NIGHT SHIFT —
ALTERING THE GAUGES — THE " BLACK LIST "—
" DOUBLE STOPPAGE CHARLIE " — " JIMMY USELESS "
— THE HAUNTED COKEHEAP — THE OLD VALET — THE
CHECKER AND STOREKEEPER
The work produced on the night turn is greatly inferior
to that made by the men of the day shift. It is im-
possible to do good work when you are tired and weary.
One has not then the keenness of sense, the nerve, nor
the energy to take the requisite pains. You are not
then the master of your machinery and tools, but are
subject to them ; even where the work is with dies
and performed mechanically, there will be depreciation.
Perhaps the stamper's tools have shifted a little. The
keys want removing, the dies re-setting and then to be
rammed up tight again. But he is too weary to do
much with the sledge, so he keeps dragging along with
his dies a-twist and makes that do, whereas, if he were
working by day he would rectify them immediately
and bang away at top speed.
It is the same with the forger. He, too, tough as he
is, cannot maintain the precision he would exercise by
day. The pile or ingot on the porter-bar seems to him
to have doubled in weight. The flash of the blazing
metal half bhnds him. He cannot stand the heat so
well ; it is all against turning out good work. Unless
the bloom is kept exactly square under the stroke of the
hammer it lops over on one side and obtains an ugly
T, 225
226 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
shape, which it will be impossible to rectify ; there is
nothing more unsightly to the eye of the careful smith
or hammerman than a shabby piece of forging. Very
often, too, a portion of slag or sand from the bed of the
furnace has adhered to the pile and, falling away, has
left a hole in the metal. Although, in the uncertain
light, the forger may think that he has hammered it
quite out, when he views the piece by daylight he finds
it rough and untidy and perhaps worthless. It may be
too small now ; there is not enough metal to clean up
under the tools of the slotting- or shaping-machine.
Then there is the smith's weld or bend to be con-
sidered. In the first place, the smith is hable to mistake
the heat of his parts by gaslight, for then they appear
brighter and hotter than they really are, and when he
brings them out to the anvil, the metal, instead of
shutting up well, will be hard and glassy under the tools.
It will, consequently, go together badly and leave a
mark or " scarf," which is not at all desirable, though
the weld may be strong enough inside. In such a case
resort will be had to " nobbling " ; that is, covering up
and concealing the scarf with the small round ball of the
hand-hammer. This must be done secretly, for no fore-
man would tolerate much of it. It is looked upon as a
mark of bad workmanship, though the bluff old overseer
of the regular smiths' shed may condone it in a few
cases with : " Hello ! You be at it agen then ! But
ther', you be no good if you can't do't. I alius
said any fool can be a smith but it takes a good man
to nobble." The smiths, under ordinary circumstances,
are not allowed to use a file. They must finish their
job manfully with the sledge and tools, otherwise they
might fake up a bad forging, with nobbling and fihng,
and make it look as strong as the best.
There are more cases of ill-health among men of the
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 227
night than of the day shift, but the reason of this will
be obvious to any. It is evident that the unnatural
conditions of all-night toil must weaken and wear down
the body and render it unfit to bear the strain put upon
it, and especially to withstand the cold draughts from
the doors and roof, which are the most fruitful source of
sickness among the workmen — a large number is always
absent with chills and influenza. Small regard for a
man's health is had at any time in the factory. It is
nothing to the officials that he is out on the sick Hst,
unless he happens to be drawing compensation for an
injury. I remember once, when work was slack in the
shed, the day overseer left orders for the night boss to
send the men outside in the yard and keep them there
for two or three hours shifting scrap iron, in order that
they might " catch cold and stop at home, and give the
others a chance."
Accidents, too, are frequent on the night shift ; the
greater part of the more serious ones happen on that
turn. Then the men, by reason of the fatigue and
dulness, are unable to take sufficient care of them-
selves ; they lack the quick presentiment of danger
common to those of the day shift. There is also the
matter of defective light and carelessness in the use of
tools, and, very often, the mad hurry to get on in the
first part of the night — the wild rush and tear of the
piecework system. It was not long ago that " Smamer's "
brother was killed at the drop-stamps with a blow on
the head, shortly after starting work. A jagged piece
of steel, ten or twelve pounds in weight, flew from the
die and struck him between the eye and ear knocking
out half his brains. As things go, no one was to blame.
The men were all hurrying together to get the work
forward, but he was murdered, aU the same, done to
death by the system that is responsible for the rash
228 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
haste and frenzy such as is common on the night
shift.
Nearly all whitewashing and painting out the interiors
of the sheds is done by night, when the machinery is
still. This is performed by unskilled hands — youths,
for the most part ; from one year's end to another they
are employed at it, taking the workshops by turn.
The work is very unhealthy and extremely dangerous.
The men construct a little scaffolding and work upon
single, narrow planks, or crawl Uke flies along the net-
work of girders in and out among the shafting, with a
single gas-jet to afford them light. One false step or
overbalancing would bring them down to the ground,
thirty feet below, amid the machinery ; death would
be swift and certain for them if they should miss their
footing on the planks. Their wages, considering the risks
they take, are very low ; i8s. or 19s. a week is the
amount they commonly receive. Several of the men,
whom I know personally — steady fellows and good
time-keepers — had been getting iSs. a week for twenty'
years till recently ; then, after persistent apphcations
for an advance, they were granted the substantial rise
of IS. a week ! One sturdy fellow, braver than the rest,
on meeting the manager one day, complained to him of
the low w'ages, but was unsuccessful. His overseer,
upon hearing of it, promptly told him to clear out,
which he afterwards did, and went to Canada and saved
^^150 in less than a year. When the small boys asked
Bill Richards, the old smiths' foreman, for a rise, he
used jokingly to tell them to " Get up a-top o' the
an\Til."
The running expenses of much of the " labour-saving "
plant is truly enormous and very often so great as
entirely to counteract the much boasted profit-making
capacity of the machine, but the managers do not mind
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 229
that in the least as long as they can show a reduction
of hands. If, by any means at all, they can get one man
to do what formerly required the services of two or
three, they do not trouble about machinery or fuel
expenses ; the losses incurred by these they make good
by speeding up the workman and getting a bigger share
out of him. They would rather pay fabulous sums for
plant and running expenses than allow the workman
to get a few shillings more in wages.
The wholesale waste of material, fuel, and energy, in
many of the sheds, is appalling ; many thousands of
pounds are annually thrown away in this direction.
Walk where he will the keen observer will detect waste ;
no one seems to trouble about the real economy. I
have seen it daily for years and have made numerous
suggestions, but to no purpose ; the overseers are too
stupid and ignorant, or too haughty and jealous, to
carry out ideas, and the managers are no better. They
squander thousands of pounds in experiments and easily
cover up their short-comings, but if the machineman
happens to break a new tool, or spoil metal of a few
pence in value, he is suspended and put on the " black
list."
If a workman sees a way to make improvements in
processes and the hke, he immediately falls into dis-
favour with the overseers. Some years ago I, as chief
stamper, was anxious to improve the process of making
a forging, and also the forging itself, and waited on the
overseer with a view to having the alteration made,
but I could not obtain his sanction for a long time. At
last, as new dies were to be made, I succeeded, after
some difficulty, in obtaining his consent for the improve-
ment. Happening to enter the die shed while the job
was in the lathe I was told by the machineman that no
alteration had been authorised. Grasping the situation,
230 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
I took a bold course, carried out the suggested altera-
tion myself, and set the dies in the steam-hammer. The
improvement was a complete success. I was cursed
and abused by the overseer, and he was highly con-
gratulated by the staff in my own presence and hearing.
The improvement was not to be permanent, however.
Shortly afterwards the dies were re- cut, and made in the
old way again. At another time, when I had assisted
the overseer with an idea, he would not speak to me
for a fortnight.
Many times after that I stood for improvements, and
was rewarded with the cutting of my prices and the
threat of dismissal, and I had the mortification of being
" hooted " by my shop-mates into the bargain. The
fact of the matter is, workmen and overseers, too, want
to run along in the same old grooves, at any rate, as far
as processes are concerned. The foreman and manager
think they have done enough if they merely cut a
price ; they are too blind to see that improvements in
the process of manufacture is the first great essential.
There are many jobs in the sheds which have been done
in the same old way for half a century. It is painful
to contemplate the ignorance, stupidity, and prejudice
of the staff in charge of operations.
Every shed has an institution called " The Black List."
This Ust is filed in the foreman's office and contains the
names of those who have been found guilty of any
indiscretion, those who may have made a little bad work,
indifferent time-keepers, and, naturally, those who have
fallen into disfavour with the overseer on any other
account, and perhaps the names have been added for no
offence at all. When it is intended to include a work-
man in the list, he is sent for to the office, bulHed by
the overseer before the clerks and oihce-boy, and warned
as to the future. " I've put you on the black list.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 231
You know what that means. The next time, mind,
and you're out of it. I give you one more chance."
Not long ago an apprentice — a fine, smart, intellectual
youth — was asked by a junior mate to advise him as to
a piece of work in the lathe and went to give the re-
quired assistance. While thus engaged he was sent for
to the office and charged with idling by the overseer.
He tried to explain that he was helping his mate, but
the foreman would not Hsten to it. " Put him on the
black list," he roared to the clerk. The lad's father,
enraged at the treatment meted out to his son, promptly
removed him from the works, and sacrificed four or
five years of patient and studious toil at his trade. It
is useless to continue in the shed when you have been
stigmatised with the " black hst." You will never
make any satisfactory progress ; you had better seek
out another place and make a fresh start ^ in hfe.
A favourite plan of the overseer's is to catch a man
in a weak state and force him to undergo a strict medical
test. As a matter of fact, the " medical test " is a
farce ; it is merely an examination by one of the staff.
Even if the workman passes the test satisfactorily it is
recorded and tells against him. Quite recently one of
the forgers came to work with a black eye, as the result
of a private encounter, and the overseer, after jesting
with him concerning it, communicated with the ex-
aminer and hustled him off to pass the " medical
test."
" What have you been at with the hammer ? " said
I to Httle Jim one day, finding the lever working very
stiffly.
" I dunno. The luminator's broke," answered he.
" The what broke ? " I inquired.
^ I am told that the "Black List" has now been abolished.
It certainly existed down to several years ago.
232 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
" That there yu-bricator, the thing what you puts
the oil in," he repHed,
Most of the articles stamped seemed to suggest some-
thing or other to Jim's childish mind. One job, made
three at a time, looked Uke " Httle bridges " ; something
else resembled great butterflies. This was like an air-
gun, and that "just like little pistols." Jim's opinion
of factory work is interesting— he is a little over fifteen
years of age. Coming up to me one day, cap, waistcoat,
everj^thing cast aside, his shirt unbuttoned, his face soot
black, and with the sweat streaming down his nose and
chin, he said naively—" This is what I calls a weary
Hfe. This place is more Uke a prison than anything
else." After that he wished to know if I had any apples
in my garden, or, failing that, would I biing him along
some crabs in my pocket ?
" Double Stoppage Charhe " was well-known at the
works. He first of all used to keep his wife short of
cash, telhng her each pay-day it was " double stoppage
this week." He often figured in a pubHc place, too,
and invariably made the same excuse. It was always
" double stoppage week " with him, so he came to be
honoured with the nickname of " Double Stoppage
Charhe." There was also " Southampton CharUe," who
had seen service with the Marines, and who was for ever
talking about the " gossoons " and telling monstrous
yarns of things — chiefly of bloody fights and ship-
wrecks. He took pride in informing you that he had
been told he would have made a capital speaker of
French, by reason of his wonderful powers of " pro-
nounciation."
Jimmy Eustace — better known as " Jimmy Useless "
— was full of poaching adventures and midnight tussles
with the gamekeepers and poUce. He was delighted
to tell you of how they dodged the men in blue and
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 233
waded half a mile, up to their necks in water, along the
canal in the dark hours in order to keep out of their
clutches. This happened in his young days, in the
neighbourhood of Ufiington. He was always somewhat
of a rake, though he was a very clever constructor of all
kinds of iron work. Everyone called him " an old fool,"
however, when Queen Victoria's new Royal Train was
made, and the workmen went out in the yard to see it.
" He go to see that thing ? Not he ! He could make
a better one than that standing on his head, any day."
His long grey hair hung down as straight as candles
and his grey beard had the true lunar curve. He
chewed half an ounce of tobacco at a time, and spat
great mouthfuls of the juice about everywhere.
A little humour is occasionally in evidence in the life
that is lived by the grimy pack of toilers in the factory
sheds. There is, for instance, the story of the young
man engaged to be married to a smart lass, and who
gave himself certain unjustifiable airs, representing
liimself as holding a position in the drawing office. After
the wedding took place, at the end of the first week, he
took home i8s. in wages and was severely taken to task
by his spouse and mother-in-law. It transpired that
he was employed pulling a heavy truck about ; that
was the only " drawing office " to which he was
attached.
One young fellow was subjected to the ridicule of his
mates by reason of an accident that befell him on liis
wedding-day. He lived far out in the country, and, on
the morning of the ceremony, just before the appointed
hour, happening to give an extra specially good yawn,
he dislocated his jaw and had to be driven twelve miles
to a doctor. Another artless youth, newly brought into
the shed, when he was put to withdraw the white-hot
plates from a vast furnace, finding the iron rake much
234 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
too short, tied a piece of tar-cord on the end in order
to lengthen it !
The riveter and his mates occasionally practise the
ludicrous. One day, when " Dobbin," the " holder-
up," who was short-sighted, was sitting underneath the
floor of the waggon with his head against the plate,
dozing perhaps, the riveter began to beat on the floor
with his hand-hammer and severely hurt his mate's
cranium. Shortly afterwards Dobbin unconsciously
took his revenge. It is usual to " drift " the holes with
a steel tool in order to make them clear to admit the
rivet, and on this particular occasion the riveter thrust
his finger through instead and Dobbin, seeing it in the
dim Hght and thinking it was the drift, gave it a mighty
ram upwards with the dolly and smashed it.
Then there is " Budget," who works one of the oil
furnaces, with only half a shirt to his back and hair
six or seven inches long and as straight as gunbarrels ;
whose face, long before breakfast-time, is as black as a
sweep's ; who slaves like a Cyclops at the forge and is
frequently quoting some portions of the speeches of
Antonio and Shjdock in the " Merchant of Venice,"
which he learnt at school and has not yet forgotten.
He sprang out of bed in a great fright, seized his food
and ran at top speed, and only partly dressed, half
through the town in the darkness to discover finally
that it wanted an hour to midnight : he had only gone
to bed at ten o'clock. His father is a platelayer on the
railway receiving the magnificent sum of i6s. a week in
wages, and his mother, after suffering five operations,
was lately sent home from the hospital as incurable ;
it is a struggle to make both ends meet and to keep
the home respectable. It is no wonder that Budget's
shirt is always out of repair and that he himself is racked
with colds and influenza.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 235
There is romance in every walk of life, and legends of
ghosts and spirits that frequent desolate ruins and dark
places, but few would think to find such a thing as a
haunted forge or coke heap, though they were believed
to exist by the credulous among the night-men at
the factory. " Sammy," the cokewheeler, had a mortal
dread of the cokeheap at midnight, by reason of strange,
weird noises he had heard there in the lone, dark hours,
and the men at the fires often had to wait for fuel, or
go and get it in for themselves. Accordingly, certain
among them determined to frighten the old man still
further. For several nights in succession, at about
twelve o'clock, someone scaled the big high heap at the
back and waited for Samuel's return from the shed with
his wheel-barrow. When he arrived the hidden one
set up a loud, moaning noise and started to clamber
down the pile. The coke gave way and fell with a
crash, and Sammy, stuttering and stammering with a
childUke simplicity and in a paroxysm of fear, rushed
off and told how the " ghost " had assailed him.
The haunted forge was in the smith's shed, adjoining
the steam-hammer shop. There a simple fellow was
by a waggish mate first of all beguiled into the belief
that a treasure was hidden beneath the floorplate and
anvil, and then induced to go alone during the supper-
hour in the hope of obtaining a clue from the " spirit "
as to its exact whereabouts. Accordingly he went
fearfully in through the darkness and up to the fire,
while his mate, concealed in the roof, moaned and spoke
to him in a ghostly voice down the chimney, telling how,
many years before, he had been murdered on that spot
and his body buried there together with the treasure,
and promising to discover it to the workman if he
would come secretly to the fire a fixed number of nights
and not communicate the matter to any outsiders.
236 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
This went on for some time, until the unhappy dupe
was made ill, and driven half out of his mind with crazy
fear, and things began to get serious. Suddenly the
noises stopped, and the midnight visit to the forge was
discontinued.
Cases have occurred in which a man has actually been
driven out of his mind by continual and systematic
trading on his weakness, and by a downright wicked
and criminal prosecution of the unscrupulous game.
Teddy, the sweeper-up, who was a young married man,
and highly respectable, but who discovered a trifling
weakness, was assailed and befooled with disgusting
buffoonery and drivelling nonsense to such an extent
that he became a perfect mental wreck, to the complete
amusement of the clique who had brought it about, and
who indulged in hysterical laughter at the unfortunate
man's antics and general condition. To such a point
was the foolery carried that Teddy had to be detained,
and he fell seriously ill. In a fortnight he died, and
those who had been the chief cause of his collapse went
jesting to his funeral. It was nothing to them that they
had been instrumental in his death ; a man's life and
soul are held at a cheap rate by his mates about the
factory.
Jim Cole is considerably out of place in the factory
crowd ; ill-health and other misfortunes were the cause
of his migration to the railwaj^ town. He is a Londoner
by birth, and was first of all a valet in good service ;
afterwards he bought a cab and plied with it about the
streets of the metropolis. As a valet he lived with a
sister of John Bright, and was often in attendance upon
the famous statesman and orator. John Bright's faith
in the Book of Books is well nigh proverbial ; the old
valet says whenever he went to his room in the morning
he was always sitting up in bed reading the Bible.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 237
As a cabman Jim was brought into contact with
many celebrities, and it is interesting to learn in what
light great men appear to those who are at their service
about the thoroughfares. He knew Tennyson well by
sight. The famous poet was never a favourite with the
" men in the street." His testiness of manner and
severity were well-known to them ; to use Jim Cole's
words : " They hated the sight of him." " There goes
the miserable old d 1/' they would say to each other.
Carlyle was not a favourite with the cabmen either.
They said he was " hoggish," and " too miserable to
live." Everyone was in his way, and everything had
to be set aside for him. His brilhant hterary fame was
no recommendation in the face of his stern personal
characteristics.
Oscar Wilde was " a very nice man." There was
not a bit of pride in him ; he would talk to anyone. He
would not walk a dozen yards if he could help it, but
must ride everywhere. He often gave cabby a shilHng
to post a letter for him. One day Jim Cole was driving
him, and they met Mrs Langtry in her carriage. There-
upon Oscar Wilde stopped the cab, got out, and stood
with one foot on the step of the popular actress's carriage,
remaining in conversation with her for nearly an hour.
At the end of the journey Oscar stoutly denied the
time, declared he was not talking to Mrs Langtry for
more than ten minutes, and refused to hand over the
fare demanded. Ultimately, however, he admitted he
might have been mistaken, and so came to terms and
paid the extras.
Once James was engaged to drive the celebrated
Whistler and Mrs Whistler to Hammersmith, and came
very near meeting with disaster. That night he was
driving a young mare of great spirit, and she took fright
at something on the way and bolted. Poor Jim was in
238 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
great suspense, fearing an accident at every crossing.
The mare flew along at a terrific speed, but the hour was
favourable and the traffic thin ; there was a fair, open
road all the way. He strained every nerve to subdue
the animal and slacken the pace, but for over two miles
he had not the sHghtest control of the vehicle. Whistler
was quiet and apparently well content within ; he had
not the faintest idea that anything was wrong. At
last, after a great race up Hammersmith Broadway, the
pace began to flag ; by the time they reached their
destination Jim was able to " pull her up " successfully.
Whistler was delighted with the journey and waxed
enthusiastic about it. He clapped and patted the
animal fondly on the neck, several times exclaiming
— " You splendid little mare ! " Whistler was a great
favourite with the cabmen and he often chatted with
them, and made them feel quite at their ease.
Mr Justin M'Carthy and his son were other celebrated
fares. They were very quiet and unassuming and
earned the great respect of the cabmen. Ill-health
dogged the old-time valet. He is now forced to do the
work of a menial, lost and swallowed up in the crowd
of grimy toilers at the factory.
There is one in every shed who stands at the ticket-
box and checks in the workmen at the beginning of
each spell; i.e., at six a.m., at nine o'clock, and two in
the afternoon. It is his duty also to carry off the box
to the time office and bring back the tickets to the
men before they leave the shed. At the time office the
metal tickets are sorted out and placed on a numbered
board ; this the checker receives and carries round to
all the men and hands them their brasses. It is a
favourite plan of the man on the check-box to allow
the workmen to drag a little by degrees until they get
slightly behind the oflicial moment, and then to close
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 239
the box sharp and shut out forty or fifty. This causes
the men to lose half an hour, or they may possibly be
compelled to go home for the rest of the morning or
afternoon. For some time afterwards they are very
punctual at the box, but by and by they are allowed
to drag again and the act of shutting out is repeated.
The checker, as well as officiating at the ticket-box,
acts as a kind of shop watchman, and supplies the
overseer with information upon such points as may
have escaped his notice.
Besides the checker, there is the regular shed detective,
who locks up the doors and cleans the office windows,
and his supernumerary who guards the doors at hooter-
time and completes the custody of the place : there is
little fear of anything transpiring without its becoming
known to the foreman. As those selected to watch the
rest are invariably the lazy or the incompetent they
are sure to be heartily contemned by the busy toilers ;
there is nothing the skilful and generous workman
detests more than to have a worthless fellow told off
to spy upon him.
The storekeeper is another who, by reason of his
extreme officiousness and parsimonious manner in
dealing out the stores, is not beloved of the toilers in
the shed. He treats every apphcant for stores with
fantastic ceremony, examining the foreman's shp half-
a-dozen times or more, and turning it round and round
and over and over until the exasperated workman can
stand it no longer, and sets about him with, " Come on,
mate ! Ya goin' to mess about all day ? We got some
work to do, we 'ev. Anybody'd think thee'st got to
buy it out o' thi own pocket ! " If the applicant wants
a can of oil the vessel is about half-filled ; if a hammer
is needed the storekeeper searches through the whole
stock to find out the worst, if nails, screws, or rivets
240 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
are required they are counted out with critical exact-
ness, and if the foreman is not at hand to sign the order
— no matter how urgent the need is — the workman
must wait, perhaps for an hour, till he returns to
initial the shp. The time necessary for an order to
reach the shed after it has been issued from the general
stores, fifty yards away, is usually a week, and the work-
men are forbidden to begin a job until they have actually
received the official form.
The political views of the men in the shed are known
to the overseer and are — in some cases, at any rate —
communicated by him to the manager ; there is no
such thing as individual liberty about the works. He
whose opinions are most nearly in agreement with those
of the foreman always thrives best, obtains the highest
piecework prices and the greatest day wages, too, while
the other is certain to be put under the ban. In brief,
the average overseer dislikes you if j^ou are a tip-top
workman, if you have a good carriage and are well-
dressed, if you are clever and cultivated, if you have
friends above the average and are well-connected, if
you are rehgious or independent, manly, and courageous ;
and he tolerates you if you creep about, are rough,
ragged, and round-shouldered, a born fool, a toady, a
har, a tale-bearer, an indifferent workman — no matter
what you are as long as you say " sir " to him, are
servile and abject, see and hear nothing, and hold with
him in everything he says and does : that is the way to
get on in the factory.
CHAPTER XV
SICKNESS AND ACCIDENTS — THE FACTORY YEAR — HOLI-
DAYS — " TRIP " — MOODS AND FEELINGS — PAY-DAY
— LOSING A QUARTER — GETTING MARRIED.
Sickness and accidents are of frequent occurrence in
the shed. The first-named may be attributed to the
foul air prevaiHng — the dense smoke and fumes from
the oil forges, and the thick, sharp dust and ashes from
the coke fires. The tremendous noise of the hammers
and machinery and the priming of the boilers have a
most injurious effect upon the body as well as upon the
nervous system ; it is all intensely painful and weari-
some to the workmen. The most common forms of
sickness among the men of the shed are complaints of
the stomach and head, with constipation. These are
the direct result of the gross impurity of the air. Colds
are exceptionally common, and are another result of
the bad atmospheric conditions ; as soon as you enter
into the smoke and fume you are sure to begin sniffing
and sneezing. The black dust and filth is being breathed
into the chest and lungs every moment. At the week-
end one is continually spitting off the accretion ; it will
take several days to remove it from the body. As a
matter of fact, the workmen are never clean, except at
holiday times. However often they may wash and
bathe themselves, an absence from the shed of several
consecutive days will be necessary in order to effect
an evacuation of the filth from all parts of the system.
Even the eyes contain it. No matter how carefully
Q 241
242 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
you wash them at night, in the morning they will be
surrounded with dark rings — fine, black dust which
has come from them as you lay asleep.
A short while ago I was passing through a village near
the town, and, seeing a canvas tent erected in a cottage
garden I made it my business to inquire into the cause
of it and to ask who might be the occupant. Thereupon
I was told that the tent was put up to accommodate a
consumptive lad who slept in it by night and worked
in the factory by day. On asking what were the lad's
duties I was informed that he worked on the oil furnaces.
The agonies he must have suffered in that loathsome,
murderous atmosphere may easily be imagined. Strong
men curse the filthy smoke and stench from morning
till night, and to a person in consumption it must be
a still more exquisite torture. Reading the Medical
Report for the county of Wilts recently I noticed it was
said that greater supervision is exercised over the work-
shops now than was the case formerly. From my own
knowledge and point of view I should say there is no
such supervision of the factory shops at all ; during the
twenty odd years I have worked there I have never
once heard of a factory inspector coming through the
shed, unless it were one of the company's own confidential
officials.
The percentage of sickness and accidents is higher
at the stamping shed than in any other workshop in the
factory. The accidents are of many kinds, though they
are chiefly scalds and burns, broken and crushed limbs,
and injuries to the eyes. It is remarkable how so many
accidents happen ; they are usually very simply caused
and received. A great number of them are due, directly
and indirectly, to the unhealthy air about the place.
When the workman is not feehng well he is liable to
meet with an accident at any moment. He has not
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 243
then the keen sense of danger necessary under such
conditions, or, if he has this, he has not the power in
himself to guard against it. He has a vague idea that
he is running risks, but he is too dazed or too ill fully
to realise it, and very often he does not even care to
protect himself. He is thus often guilty of great self-
neglect, amounting to madness, though he is ignorant
of it at the time. When he is away from the shed he
remembers the danger he was in, and is amazed at his
weakness, and vows resolutions of taking greater pains
in the future, but on coming back to the work the old
conditions prevail, and he is confronted with the same
inability to take sufficient precautions for his safety
and well-being. Where the air is good, or even moder-
ately pure, the workmen will be more keen and sensible
of danger. Both their physical and mental powers will
be active and alert and accidents will consequently
be much more rare.
As soon as a serious accident happens to a workman
a rush is made to the spot by young and old ahke — they
cannot contain their eager curiosity and excitement.
Many are impelled by a strong desire to be of service
to the unfortunate individual who has been hurt, though,
in nine cases out of ten, instead of being a help they are
a very great hindi-ance. If the workman is injured
very severely, or if he happens to be killed, it will be
impossible to keep the crowd back ; in spite of com-
mands and exhortations they use their utmost powers
to approach the spot and catch a ghmpse of the victim.
The overseer shouts, curses, and waves his hands franti-
cally, and warns them all of what he wiU do, but the
men doggedly refuse to disperse until they have satis-
fied their curiosity and abated their excitement.
Immediately a man is down one hurries off to the
ambulance shed for the stretcher, another hastens to
244 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
the cupboard for lint and sal volatile ; this one fetches
water from the tap, and the " first-aid men " are soon
at work patching up the wound. In a few moments
the stretcher arrives and the injured one is Hfted upon
it and carried or wheeled off to the hospital. Some of
the men inspect the spot at which the accident occurred
and loiter there for a moment ; afterwards they go on
with their work as though nothing had happened.
If the injured man dies word is immediately sent into
the shed. A notice of the funeral is posted upon the
wall and a collection is usually made to buy a wreath,
or the money is handed over to the widow or next-of-
kin to help meet the expenses. There are always a few
to follow the old comrade to the grave, and the bearers
will usually be the deceased man's nearest workmates.
Occasionally, if the funeral happens to be that of a very
old hand, and one who was a special favourite with the
men, the whole shed is closed for the event. Within
two or three days afterwards, however, the affair will
be almost forgotten ; it will be as though the workman
had never existed. Amid the hurry and noise of the
shop there is little time to think of the dead ; one's
whole attention has to be directed towards the living
and to the earning of one's own livelihood. For a
single post rendered vacant by the death of a workman,
there are sure to be several applicants ; a new hand
is soon brought forward to fill the position. Though
he does not wish to be unnatural towards his predecessor,
he thanks his lucky stars, all the same, that he has got
the appointment ; it is nothing to him who or what
the other man was. It is an ill wind that blows nobody
good, and that, for the most part, is the philosophy of
the men at the factory.
There is one other point worth remembering in con-
nection with the matter of pure or impure air in the
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 245
shed, and that is, that the quaUty of the work made
will be considerably affected by it. The more fit a
workman feels, the better his work will be. If he is
deficient in health it will be unreasonable to expect that
his forging will be of the highest quality ; there is
bound to be a depreciation in it. The same may be
said of the workman's relations with his employers —
his satisfaction or dissatisfaction with existing con-
ditions. If he is treated honestly and fairly the firm
will gain greatly thereby, in many ways unknown to
them. The workman, in return, will be conscientious
and will use his tools and machinery with scrupulous
care. But if he is being continually pricked and goaded,
and ground down by the overseer, he will naturally be
less inclined to study the interests of the company
beyond what is his most inevitable duty, and something
or other will suffer. In any case it is as well to remember
that in such matters as these the interests of all are
identical ; where there is mutual understanding and
appreciation gain is bound to accrue to each party.
No general has ever won a battle with an unhealthy
or discontented army, and the conditions in a large
factory, with ten or twelve thousand workmen, are very
similar ; the figure is reasonably appHcable.
The year at the factory is divided into three general
periods; i.e., from Christmas till Easter, Easter tiU "Trip"
— which is held in July — and Trip till Christmas. There
are furthermore the Bank HoHdays of Whitsuntide and
August, though more than one day's leave is seldom
granted in connection with either of them. Sometimes
there will be no cessation of labour at all, which gives
satisfaction to many workmen, for, notwithstanding
the painfulness of the confinement within the dark
walls, they are, as a rule, indifferent to holidays. Many
hundreds of them would never have one at all if they
246 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
were not forced to do so by the constitution of the
calendar and the natural order of things.
Very little traveUing is done by the workmen during
the Easter hoHdays. Most of those who have a couple
of square yards of land, a small back-yard, or a box of
earth on the window sill, prepare for the task of
husbandry — the general talk in spare moments now
will be of peas, beans, onions, and potatoes. The longest
journeys from home are made by the small boys of the
shed, who set out in squads and troops to go bird's-
nesting in the hedgerows, or plucking primroses and
violets in the woods and copses. Young Jim was very
excited when Easter came with the warm, sunny weather ;
it was pleasant to Hsten to his childish talk as he told
us about the long walks he had taken in search of prim-
roses and violets, going without his dinner and tea in
order to collect a posy of the precious flowers. Ques-
tioned as to the meaning of Good Friday, he was puzzled
for a few moments, and then told us it was because
Jesus Christ was born on that day. Though he was
mistaken as to the origin and signification of the Festival,
there are hundreds of others older than he at the works
who would not be able to answer the question correctly.
At Whitsuntide the first outings are generallv held.
Then many of the workmen — those who can afford it,
who have no large gardens to care for, and who are
exempt from other business and anxieties — begin to
make short week-end trips by the trains. The privilege
of a quarter-fare for travel, granted by the railway
companies to their employees, is valued and appreciated,
and widely patronised. By means of this very many
have trips and become acquainted with the world who
otherwise would be unable to do so.
When the men come back to work after the Whit-
suntide holidays they usually find the official notice-
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 247
board in the shed covered with posters containing the
preHminary announcements of the annual Trip, and,
very soon, on the plates of the forges and walls, and
even outside in the town, the words " Roll on. Trip," or
" Five weeks to Trip," may be seen scrawled in big
letters. As the time for the hohday draws near the
spirits of the workmen — especially of the younger ones,
who have no domestic rseponsibilities — rise consider-
ably. Whichever way one turns he is greeted with
the question — often asked in a jocular sense—" Wher'
gwain Trip ? " the reply to which usually is — " Same
old place," or " Up in the smowk ; " i.e., to London, or
" Swindon by the Sea." By the last-named place
Weymouth is intended. That is a favourite haunt of
the poorer workmen who have large families, and it is
especially popular with the day trippers. Every year
five or six thousand are conveyed to the Dorsetshire
watering-place, the majority of whom return the same
evening. Given fine weather an enjoyable day will be
spent about the sands and upon the water, but if it
happens to rain the outing will prove a wretched fiasco.
Sometimes the trippers have left home in fine weather
and found a deluge of rain setting in when they arrived
at the seaside town. Under such circumstances they
were obliged to stay in the trains all day for shelter, or
implore the officials to send them home again before the
stipulated time.
" Trip Day " is the most important day in the calendar
at the railway town. For several months preceding it,
fathers and mothers of families, young unmarried men,
and juveniles have been saving up for the outing. What-
ever new clothes are bought for the summer are usually
worn for the first time at " Trip " ; the trade of the town
is at its zenith during the week before the holiday. Then
the men don their new suits of shoddy, and the pinched
248 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
or portly dames deck themselves out in all the glory of
cheap, " fashionable " finery. The young girls are
radiant with colour — white, red, pink, and blue — and
the children come dressed in brand-new garments —
all stiff from the warehouse — and equipped with spade
and bucket and bags full of thin paper, cut the size of
pennies, to throw out of the carriage windows as the
train flies along. A general exodus from the town
takes place that day and quite twenty-five thousand
people will have been hurried off to all parts of the
kingdom in the early hours of the morning, before the
ordinary traffic begins to get thick on the line. About
half the total number return the same night ; the others
stop away till the expiration of the hoHday, which is of
eight days' duration.
The privilege of travelling free by the Trip trains is
not granted to all workmen, but only to those who are
members of the local Railway Institute and Library,
and have contributed about six shiUings per annum to
the general fund. Moreover, no part of the holiday is
free, but is counted as lost time. The prompt com-
mencement of work after Trip is, therefore, highly
necessary ; the great majority of the workmen are
reduced to a state of absolute penury. If they have
been away and spent all their money — and perhaps
incurred debt at home for rent and provisions before-
hand in order to enjoy themselves the better on their
trip — it will take them a considerable time to get square
again ; they will scarcely have done this before the
Christmas hoHdays are announced.
At the end of the first week after the Trip holiday
there will be no money to draw. When Friday comes
round, bringing with it the usual hour for receiving the
weekly wages, the men file out of the sheds with long
faces. This is generally known at the works as " The
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 249
Grand March Past," because the toilers march past the
pay-table and receive nothing that day. The Hving
among the poorest of the workmen will be very meagre,
and a great many will not have enough to eat until the
next Friday comes round, bringing with it the first pay.
The local tradesmen and shopkeepers look upon the
Trip as a great nuisance because, they say, it takes
money away from the town that ought to be spent in
their warehouses ; they do not take into consideration
the fact that the men are confined like prisoners all the
rest of the year.
Work in the sheds, for the first day or two after the
Trip, goes very hard and painful ; everyone is yearning
towards the blue sea or the fresh open country, and
thinking of friends and kindred left behind. This feehng
very soon wears off, however. Long before the week is
over the spirit of work will have taken possession of the
men ; they fall naturally into their places and the Trip
becomes a thing of the past — a dream and a memory.
Here and there you may see scrawled upon the wall
somewhere or other, with a touch of humour, "51
weeks to Trip " ; that is usually the last word in con-
nection with it for another year.
There are three general moods and phases of feeling
among the workmen, corresponding to the three periods
of the year as measured out by the holidays. The
period between Christmas and Easter is one of hope and
rising spirits, of eager looking forward to brighter days,
the long evening and the pleasant week-end. The dark
and gloom of winter has weighed heavily upon the
toilers, but this has reached its worst point by the end
of December ; after that the barometer begins to rise
and a more cheerful spirit prevails everjrwhere.
From Easter till Trip and August Bank Holiday —
notwithstanding the terrible trials of the summer
250 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
weather in the case of those who work at the furnaces —
the feeHng is one of comparative ease and satisfaction.
A series of Httle hohdays is included in this period.
The men are encouraged to bear with the heat and
fatigue through the knowledge that it will not be for
long ; a holiday in sight goes far towards mitigating
the hard punishment of the work in the shed. The
summer sunshine and general bright weather, the
occupations of gardening, and the prevalence of herbs
and salads, fresh, sweet vegetables, flowers, and fruits
all have a beneficial effect upon the workman and tend
to distract his attention from the drabness of his em-
ployment and make the weeks go by more easily.
The period is one of lightness. It is the time of
reahzation, the fulfilHng of dreams dreamed through the
long, dark winter.
From August till Christmas the feeling is one almost
of despair. Five whole months have to be borne without
a break in the monotony of the labour. The time before
the next holiday seems almost infinite ; a tremendous
amount of work must be done in the interval. Accord-
ingly, the men settle down with grim faces and fixed
determinations. The pleasures' of the year are thrust
behind and forgotten ; day by day the battle must be
fought and the ground gained inch by inch. The smoke
towers up from the stacks and chimneys, the hammers
pound away on the obstinate metal, the wheels whirl
round and the din is incessant. Day after day the
black army files in and out of the entrances with the
regularity of clockwork ; it is indeed the period of stern
work — the great effort of the year. Whatever money
the workmen save must be put aside now or never ;
the absence of hohdays and lack of inducement to
travel will provide them with the opportunity. Now
is the time for purchasing new clothing and boots and
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 251
for getting out of debt — if there is any desire to do that ;
it is in every sense of the word the great productive
period.
It is also interesting to note the various moods and
feeUngs common to the workmen during the passage
of the week. Monday is always a flat, stale day, and
especially is this true of the morning, before dinner-
time. It might reasonably be supposed that the work-
men, after an absence of a day, or a day and a half,
would return to the shed rested and vigorous, and fit
for new efforts, but this is far from being the actual
case. As a matter of fact, Monday is an extremely
dull day in the shed. Everyone seems surly and out
of sorts, as though he had been routed up from sleep
before time and had " got out of bed on the wrong
side." The foreman comes on the scene with a scowl ;
the chargeman is " huffy " and irritable ; the stampers
and hammermen bend to their work in stonj? silence,
or snap at each other ; even the youngsters are quiet
and mopish. Work seems to go particularly hard and
against the grain. It is as though everything were under
a cloud ; there is not a bit of life or soul in it. This feel-
ing is so general on the first day of the week that the
men have invented a term by which to express it ; if
you ask anyone how he is on that day he will be sure
to tell you that he feels " rough " and " Monday- fied,"
By dinner-time the cloud will have lifted somewhat,
though not till towards the end of the afternoon will
there be anything like real relief, with a degree of bright-
ness. By that time the tediousness of the first day will
have worn off ; the men's faces brighten up and a spirit
of cheerfulness prevails. Now they speak to each other,
laugh, whistle and jest, perhaps ; they have won the
first skirmish in the weekly battle.
Tuesday is the strong day, the day of vigorous activity.
252 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
of tool- and also of record-breaking. The men come to
work like lions. All the stiffness and sluggishness con-
tracted at the week-end has vanished now. There is a
great change, both in the temper and the physical con-
dition of the men, visible about the place ; they move
more quickly, handle their tools better, and appear to
be in perfect trim. The work made on Tuesdays is
always the greatest in amount and usually the best in
quality. Everyone, from the foreman to the office-boy,
seems brighter and better, more fit, well, and energetic
— great things are accomplished on Tuesdays at the
works.
Wednesday is very similar to Tuesday, though the
men are not quite as fresh and vigorous. The pace,
though still smart and good, will fall a little below that
of the day previous. Three days' toil begins to tell
on the muscles and reserve of the body, though this is
counterbalanced by the increase of mental satisfaction
and expectation, the knowledge of being in mid-week
and of getting within sight of another pay-day and
cessation from work.
Thursday is the humdrum day. As much work will
be done as on the day preceding, but more effort will
be required to perform it. An acute observer will
perceive a marked difference in the general behaviour
of the workmen and in the manner in which they
manipulate the tools. They will begin to look tired
and haggard. When they leave the shed at meal-
times they do not rush headlong out, pushing and
shouting, but file away soberly and in comparative
silence.
By Friday morning the barometer will have risen
considerably. Notwithstanding the tiredness of the
individual, he is nerved to fresh efforts and induced to
make a final spurt towards the end of the weekly race.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 253
His manner is altogether more cheerful, and he becomes
quite affable to his mates. If the manager or overseer
passes through the shed more frequently than usual
and comes and times him at his work, he takes but very
little notice of him. Those who are by nature gruff
and surly melt a httle and show a more genial disposition
on the Friday. The secret of all this Hes in the fact that
Friday is both the last whole day to be worked at the
shed, and it is pay-day, too. The men's faces brighten
considerably at the approach of that happy and eagerly-
awaited hour. When they collect together around the
pay-table they indulge in jocular remarks with one
another, and the majority bubble over with good-nature.
As they pass the table in single file they grab up the
box containing the money with commendable deter-
mination. If the pay is a full one there will be a broad
smile, or a grin, on the faces of most of the men as
they remove the cover and pocket the coin ; that is
about the happiest and most triumphant moment of
all for them.
To draw the wages each man is furnished with a
metal check having a number, corresponding with his
name in the register, stamped upon it. The check is
issued to the men as they enter the shed after dinner,
and is a guarantee that they have wages to receive on
that day. Each man's wages are put up in a tin box,
which is also stamped with his number. The foreman
takes his position at the head, and two clerks stand
behind the table. Of these, one calls out the number
upon the box and the other takes it and claps it sharply
on the table. The men are waiting ready and take it
as they walk past ; two hundred may be paid in about
five minutes by this method. Extras for piecework
are paid fortnightly. Whatever stoppages and con-
tributions are due for the local Sick and Medical Fund,
254 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
coal, wood, and other charges, are deducted on the normal
week, and this is called " stoppage week." Accordingly,
the day of great good-humour comes fortnightly, and
that week is known among the men as " balance
week."
Saturday is the day of final victory, the closing up of
the weekly battle, though a great part of the eagerness
evinced a day or two before will have vanished now
that the time to take the hebdomadal rest is really at
hand. It is strikingly true, even here, that expectation
is better than realization. Notwithstanding the fact
that the men are tired and worn out they do not appear
to be as keen for the rest as might be imagined ; they
now seem to have recovered their normal powers and
work away quite unconcernedly up to the last moment.
The boys and youths, however, will be restless ; they
whistle and sing and rush off hke shots from a gun as
soon as the hooter sounds.
Sunday is the day of complete inactivity with most
of the workmen, and it is possibly the weakest and
the least enjoyed of all. If the weather is dull and
wet a great number stay in bed till dinner-time, and
sometimes they remain there all day and night, till
Monday morning comes. This will not have done them
much harm ; they will feel all the more refreshed and
the better able to face the toil and battle of the coming
week.
Every day, as well as the year and week, has its
divisions and a temper and feehng on the part of the
men corresponding with each of them. In the morning,
before breakfast, nearly everyone is sober and quiet,
very often surly, and even spitefuUy disposed. During
that time the men in the shed rarely speak to each other,
but bend down to the labour in silence. After breakfast
the tone improves a Uttle, and continues to do so till
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 255
dinner-time, when the tempers of the men will have
become about normal ; they are restored to their
natural humour and disposition. When they return
after dinner a still greater improvement is discernible,
and by five o'clock in the afternoon they are not Hke
the same beings. In the evening, after tea, greater
good-fellowship than ever prevails, and if a man
meets his mate in the town he is quite cordial. By the
next morning, however, he is metamorphosed again ;
the old conditions obtain, and so on day after day and
month after month. The best work of the day is always
made in the morning, between the hours of nine and
eleven.
If a workman oversleeps in the morning and is too
late for admittance before breakfast, he may start at
nine o'clock. This is called " losing a quarter." There
are those at the works who are noted for losing quarters ;
they are usually absent from the shed before breakfast
once or twice a week. Such as these, by the frequency
of their absence, are not noticed very much, but if one
who is habitually a good timekeeper happens to be
out unexpectedly before breakfast, means are taken to
celebrate the event. When he arrives there will be a
httle surprise awaiting him. He will find an effigy of
himself standing near the forge, and will receive a salute
composed of hammers knocking on steel plates, and the
rattHng of any old pot that chances to be at hand.
During the meal-time the workmen obtain several
coats, a hat, and a pair of boots, and fix them on the
handles of the mallets and broom, and then chalk out
the features of a man upon the coke shovel. After-
wards they assemble in a gang and greet their comrade
with an overpowering din. If he is wise he will take it
all in good part and join in with the fun, and the din
will soon cease ; but if he loses his temper — as is some-
256 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
times the case — he is assailed more loudly than ever,
and driven half mad with the uproar.
A somewhat similar reception is given to a workman
who has just been married. As soon as it is known that
the banns are published — and this is certain to leak
out and news of it be brought into the shed — he be-
comes the object of very special attention. The men
come to him from all quarters and offer him their
congratulations, sincere and otherwise, very often
accompanying them with advice of different kinds,
sometimes of a highly sarcastic nature. Many insist
upon shaking hands with him and, with mock ceremony,
compliment him on his decision to join the " Big Firm,"
as they call it, assuring him, at the same time, that they
shall expect him to " stand his footing." Occasionally,
if their mate is poor, the men of a gang will make a
small collection and buy him a present — a pair of pictures,
a piece of furniture, or a set of ornaments. Perhaps
this may be carried out ridiculously, and the whole
thing turned into a joke, whereupon the prospective
bridegroom loses his temper and soundly lashes his
mates for their unsolicited patronage.
If the workman divulges the time and place of the
wedding there will certainly be a few to witness it, in
order to see how he behaves during the ceremony. Very
often they wait outside the church with missiles of
several kinds, such as old shoes and slippers, rice, barley,
Indian corn, and even potatoes, ready to pelt him.
Occasionally, however, it happens that the wily mate
has deceived them with regard either to the time or the
place, and if they turn up at the church they will have
to wait in vain, the laughing-stock of all passers-by.
When the newly married man recommences work he
is received with a loud uproar. This is called " ringing
him in." A crowd of men and boys beat upon any
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 257
loose plate of metal that will return a loud clang —
such as Uds of tool-chests, steel bars, anvils, and sides
of coke bunks — and make as much noise as possible.
This is all over by the time the hooter sounds. With
the starting of the shop engine the men fall in to work,
and the marriage is forgotten by the crowd.
R
CHAPTER XVI
COLD AND HEAT — MEALS — FAT AND LEAN WORKMEN —
WAYS AND MEANS — PRANKS — ALL FOOLS' DAY —
NEW year's EVE
Two kinds of weather go hard with the toilers in
the shed ; they are — extreme cold and extreme heat.
When it is very cold in the winter the men will be sub-
jected to a considerable amount of draught from the
doors and roof ; on one side they will be half-baked
with the heat, and on the other chilled nearly to the
bone. The furnacemen and stampers will be drenched
with perspiration day after day, in the coldest weather.
When they leave the shed to go home at meal-times
and at night they will run great risks of taking cold ;
it is no wonder that cases of rheumatism and lumbago
are very common among those who toil at the furnaces
and forges. The workmen, for the most part, wear
the same clothes all the year round, winter and summer ;
they make no allowance for cold and heat with warm
or thin clothing.
Very few wear overcoats, or even mufflers, in the
coldest weather, unless it is wet. They are often
numbed with the cold, for they feel it severely, and they
commonly run up the long yard in order to keep them-
selves warm in frosty weather on their return to the
shed after meals. If you ask them why they do not
wear a cravat or muffler they tell you it is " no good to
coddle yourself up too much, for the more clothes you
wear the more you will want to wear." A great many
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 259
— of the town workmen especially — do not possess an
overcoat of any kind. Whatever the weather may be
they journey backwards and forwards quite unpro-
tected. I have known men come to the shed drenched
to the skin, many a time, and be forced to work in that
condition while the garments were drying on their
backs. Now and then, though not often, a bold and
hardy workman will remove his shirt or trousers and
stand and dry them at the furnace door. If he does
this he is certain to be shied at and made the target
for various lumps of coke and coal. Amusement is
sometimes caused by the shirt taking fire ; I have more
than once seen a workman reduced to the necessity of
borrowing an overcoat to wrap around him in lieu of
upper garments. Sometimes the clothes of half the
gang are set aHght with sparks from the hammers, and
burnt to ashes.
The heat of the summer months, for those who toil
at the furnaces and forges, is far more painful to endure
than are aU the inconveniences of cold weather. This
is especially the case in close and stuffy sheds where
there is a defective system of ventilation, or where the
workshop is surrounded by other buildings. The
interior of these places will be like a hot oven ; it will
be impossible for the workmen to maintain any degree
of strength and vigour at their labour. In the early
morning, before eight o'clock, the air will be somewhat
cooler, but by the time of re-starting, after breakfast,
the heat will be deadly and overpowering ; the tempera-
ture in front of the furnaces will be considerably over
100 degrees. Where there is a motion of air the work-
men can stand a great amount of heat on all sides, but
when that is quite stagnant, and thick and heavy with
the nauseous smoke and fumes from the oil forges, it is
positively torturous. The exigencies of piecework will
26o LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
admit of no relaxation, however ; approximately the
same amount of work must be made on the hottest day
of summer as on the coldest day of winter.
There is one inevitable result of all this — the work
made under such conditions will be inferior in quality,
for the men cannot spend the time they should over the
hot metal. If you stand and watch the stampers you
wiU see, from their very movements, how wretchedly
tired and languid they are ; one-half of them are scarcely
able to drag their weary limbs backwards and forwards
— they are truly objects of misery. At the same time,
they do not complain, for that would be fruitless, and
they know it. Lost to everything but the sense of
their own inexpressible weariness, with grim necessity
at their elbows, they spend their last effort on the job,
having no interest available for the work, only longing
for the next hooter to sound and give them a temporary
rest. Those who work out of doors in the extreme heat
of the sun, though they perspire much, yet have pure
air to breathe, so that there will be a minimum of fatigue
resulting from it. In the dust and filth of the shed,
however, the perspiration costs very much more. It
seems drawn from the marrow of your bones ; your
very heart's blood seems to ooze out with it.
The change from cold to heat, and also the shifting
of the wind, is immediately felt in the shed ; there is
no need of a weather-vane to inform you of the wind's
direction. Even when there is air moving, only one
half of the place will benefit from it. Entering the
shed at one end, it will pile up all the smoke and fume
at the other. This, instead of passing out, wiU whirl
round and round in an eddy, and tease and torment
the workmen, making them gasp for breath.
The toilers have resort to various methods in order
to mitigate the heat during the summer months. The
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 261
furnacemen, stampers, and forgers usually remove their
shirts altogether, and discard their leathern aprons for
those made of light canvas, or old rivet bags. The
amount of cold water drunk at such times is enormous.
It is useless to advise the men to take it in moderation :
" I don't care, I must have it," is the answer made.
Occasionally the officials issue oatmeal from the stores,
to be taken with the water. This removes the rawness
from the liquid, and makes it much more palatable,
and less harmful to the stomach. The boys are especi-
ally fond of the mixture ; they would drink it by the
bucketful, and swallow grouts and all. They do not
beHeve in wasting anything obtained gratis from the
company.
One plan, in very hot weather, is to wrap a wet towel
or wiper about the head, cooling it now and then with
fresh water. Some hold their heads and faces under-
neath the tap and let the cool water run upon them ;
and others engage their mates to squirt it in their faces
instead. Such as do this tie an apron close around the
neck under the chin, and receive the volume of water
fuU in the face. It is deUcious, when you are baked
and half-choked with the heat in midsummer, to go to
the big tap under the wall and receive the cold water
on the inside part of the arm, just below the shoulder,
aUowing it to run down and flow off the finger tips.
This is very cooling and refreshing, and is a certain
restorative.
Now and then, during the meal-hour, a hardy work-
man will strip himself and bathe in the big bosh used
for cooling the furnace tools. In the evening, after a
hard sweating at the fires, many of the young men will
pay a visit to the baths in the town. Little Jim and
his mates, who have no coppers to squander upon the
luxury of a dip under cover, betake themselves to the
262 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
clay-pits in a neighbouring brick-field. There they
dive down among the fishes and forget about the punish-
ment they have suffered to-day, and which is certainly
awaiting them on the morrow.
The majority of the workmen go out of the sheds to
have their food. In very many workshops they are
not permitted, under any consideration, to remain in
to meals. On the score of health this is as it should be ;
it forces the workman, whether he likes it or not, to
breathe a little fresh air. It also removes him from
his surroundings for the time, and affords him some re-
freshment in that way. The sheds in which the men
are allowed to have their meals unmolested are the
smiths' shops, the steam-hammer shops, and the rolling
mills shed. In all these places the men perspire con-
siderably, and they would be very liable to take a chill,
especially in the winter months, if they were forced to
go out into the cold air to meals. Mess-rooms are pro-
vided for the men of some shops, and tea is brewed and
food cooked for as many as like to repair to them.
Very many will not patronise them, however, because
they do not like eating their food in pubhc ; they saj^ it
is " like being among a lot of cattle." Such as these
take their food in their hand and eat it as they walk
about, or perhaps they visit a coffee tavern or an inn
of the town. During fine weather a large number have
their meals in the recreation field underneath the trees.
Their httle sons or daughters bring the food from
home, with hot tea in a mug or bottle, and meet them
outside the entrances. Then they sit down together
in the shade of the elm-trees and enjoy the repast.
The forgers and furnacemen do not eat much food
in the shed during the summer months. The heat of
the fires and the fumes from the oil furnaces impair
their appetites, and large quantities of bread and other
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 263
victuals are thrown out in the yard for the rats and birds.
Rooks and sparrows are the only regular feathered in-
habitants of the yard, if, indeed, the rooks can be so
called, for they have their nests a long way off. They
merely obtain their food about the yard during the day
and go home to bed at night. The sparrows buUd their
nests almost anywhere, though their favourite place
seems to be in the sockets made in the walls for contain-
ing the lamp brackets. As the lamps are removed
during the summer months, the holes afford a convenient
resting-place for the ubiquitous passeres.
No starUngs frequent the yard ; they prefer a quieter
and more natural habitation. A robin, even, is an
unusual visitor, while martins and swallows never visit
the precincts of the factory. The sweet chelidon — the
darling stranger from the far-off shores of the blue
Mediterranean — shuns the unearthly noise and smother
of the factory altogether ; her delight is in places far
removed from the whirling of wheels and the chu-chu-
ing of engines.
The rooks seem perfectly inured to the smoke and
steam and the life of the factory yard ; at all hours of
the day they may be seen scavenging around the sheds,
picking up any stray morsel that happens to be lying
about. Four of these frequent the yard regularly.
Summer and winter they are to be seen strutting up
and down over the ashes of the track, or perched upon
the tops of the high lamps. Once, during a gale, I saw
a rook try to alight upon the summit of a lamp, eighty
feet high — on the small curved iron stay that crowns
the whole like a bow. Although it secured a footing
on the top, it could not balance itself to rest there, but
was forced to keep its two wings entirely expanded in
order to maintain any equilibrium at all. This it did
for nearly two minutes, but the force of the wind was
264 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
so great that it could not keep its balance and was
presently blown away. To view it there, with wings
outstretched, brought to mind a bird of a much nobler
reputation than that of Master Rook ; it was worthy
of the traditions of the eagle.
It is instructive to note the various types of men and
to consider how they compare with one another. Big,
fat workmen invariably make better mates than do
small, thin ones. Their temper is certain to be more
genial, and they are usually more open and simple,
hearty and free ; ever5Athing with them, to use a time-
honoured phrase, seems to go " as easy as an old cut
shoe." Even Caesar, though very thin himself, wished
to have about him men who were fat and sleek — he
was suspicious of the lean and hungry-looking Cassius.
Fat workmen, as a rule, seem incapable of much worry.
If anything goes amiss they look upon it with the greatest
unconcern and lightly brush it aside, while the thin,
small individual is forever fretting and grieving over
some trivial thing or other. It is noteworthy that
hairy men, as well as being considerably stronger, are
usually better-tempered than are those who are lacking
in this respect. The little person is proverbially vain
and conceited and " thinks great things " of himself,
as the Greeks would have said, while the words of the
old rhyme are uniformly true and applicable : —
"Long and lazy,
Black and proud,
Fair and foolish,
Little and loud."
Small pride is discovered in the individual of sixteen
or seventeen stone weight. Nor are size and bulk in
a workman always indicative of the greatest prowess.
Very many men of no more than five feet or less in
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 265
stature, and of correspondingly small proportions, are
veritable lions in strength.
Of all styles of workmen soever the dandy, or, as he
is vulgarly called, the " swanker," is usually the least
proficient at his trade. There is another who would
delight to stand with his hands behind him, or perhaps
to walk about like it : he is certain to be of the self-
conscious type, one not extra fond of making unnatural
exertions. This one, whenever an opportunity presents
itself, would stand with his thumbs thrust in the arm-
holes of his waistcoat and complacently look upon all
around him ; you may know him for one who would
rather see you do a job than do it himself. That one
yonder is fond of standing with his arms folded, and
another would thrust his hands deep into his trousers
pockets at every stray opportunity. Such as these
may come in time to draw as much wages as the best
workmen on the premises, or they may even obtain
more, but they will never be experts themselves ; they
are too choice, and too dilatory. Your capital workman
never adopts any of these attitudes. Walking or stand-
ing, pausing, resting, or viewing any other operation,
his hands are down by his sides — free, and in the most
advantageous position for rendering assistance to him-
self, or to others, as the case may be.
The men of one department or shed — except in the
case of a fire — never help those of another, no matter
how great the difficulty may be, unless they have been
officially lent, and this is of extremely rare occurrence.
One might think that where two sheds stand side by
side, help would occasionally be given, when it was
required, but such is the condition of things, and so
rigid is the system imposed at the works, that this is
completely out of the question. The men of two con-
tingent sheds, though they may have been working
266 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
close together for twenty or thirty years, are almost
total strangers. They may see each other now and
then, and recognise one another by sight, but they do
not think of exchanging conversations.
There is one matter, however, in which, notwithstand-
ing the many facilities at hand for perfect equipment,
the works resembles most other establishments, and that
is in the frequently defective supply of proper tools for
the workmen and the too great tendency to use anything
that may be lying about for a makeshift. When I came
into the factory as a boy I expected to find everything
of this sort in perfect arrangement. In the rough and
ready trade of agriculture I had been accustomed to
making the best use of old, worn-out tools. The farmer,
if he is not blessed with abundant capital, is often forced
to have recourse to crude means and expedients in order
to tide himself over a difficulty. He must bind up
this and patch that, and sometimes set his men to work
with tackle that is broken and antiquated. One looks
for this, naturally, out on the farm, and is surprised if
he does not find it so. But in the factory, thought I,
there will be none of it. I supposed that all the machinery
would be in perfect trim, that tools would be very
plentiful and of the best description, and that every-
thing would be ordered for the men's convenience in
order to expedite the work.
A short acquaintance with matters in the shed soon
dispelled this illusion, however. I found that the same
condition of things obtained in the factory as was the
case on the far away, deserted farm. There something
ailed the chaffcutter, the mowing- or reaping-machine,
the plough, the elevator, or the horse-rake. Some
links were missing from the traces and had to be replaced
with stout wire ; many things were in use that were
heavy, cumbersome, and primitive. Here something is
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 267
wrong with the steam-hammer, driU, lathe, or hydrauhc
machine. The wheel-barrows are broken, the shovels
are without handles, the besoms are worn out ; hammers
and chisels, tongs, sets, and other tools are almost as
scarce as pound pieces. You seldom have any decent
tools to work with unless you can make them yourself,
or pay the smith for doing it out of your own pocket.
Then, in nine cases out of ten, if the machinery breaks
down, the same means are resorted to as were adopted
by the farmer or hauher ; any patching up wiU do until
such time as someone or other can make it convenient
to carry out the necessary repairs. As long as the parts
hang together and the wheels go round, that will be
considered sufficient. This kind of procedure, in the
case of a farmer or other, who has no very great con-
venience for equipping himself with every desirable
apparatus, may be condoned, but in a large and pro-
fessedly up-to-date factory there is no excuse at all for
it — it is pure misdemeanour and slovenHness.
Many pranks are played upon one another by the
workmen, though it is significant of the times that sky-
larking and horse-play are not nearly as common and
frequent as they were formerly. The supervision of
the sheds is much more strict, and the prices are con-
siderably lower than they used to be ; there is not now
the time and opportunity, nor even the inclination to
indulge in practical jokes. Under the new discipHne
the men are generally more sober and silent, though
they are none the happier, nevertheless. The increased
efforts they are bound to make at work and the higher
speed of the machinery has caused them to become
gloomy and unnatural, and, very often, peevish and
irritable. It is a further illustration of the old adage —
" All work and no play
Makes Jack a dull boy."
268 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
There is one matter for congratulation, however, and
that is that the youngsters are not to be deprived of
their sports and amusements on any pretext whatever.
Though you set them to do almost impossible tasks
they will find the time and the means to exercise their
natural propensity to playfulness.
It is a bad sign when there is a total absence of play
in the shed. It is bad for the individual and for the
men collectively ; it indicates too great a subjection
to working conditions — the subjugation of inherent
nature. It is of far greater value and importance to
mankind that spirit and character should be cherished
and maintained, than that the trifling and petty rules
of the factory should be scrupulously observed and
adhered to. At the same time, no sane person would
recommend that an unrestricted hberty be allowed the
workmen. There is bound to be a certain amount of
law and order, but where everything is done at the piece
rate and the firm is not in a position to lose on the
bargain, it is stupid obstinately to insist upon the
observance of every little rule laid down. Piece-rated
men seldom or never work at a perfectly uniform speed ;
there are dull and intensely active periods depending
sometimes upon the physical condition of the workman
and sometimes upon the quality known as " luck " in
operation. Give the workman his head and he will
fashion out his own time-table, he will speedily make
up for any losses he has incurred before. The feeling
of fitness is bound to come ; he revels in the toil while
it possesses him. There never was, and there never will
be, a truly mechanical man who shall work with the
systematical regularity of a clock or steam-engine ;
that is beyond all hope and reason, beyond possibihty
and beyond nature. What is more, it is absolutely
unnecessary and undesirable.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 269
One prank that used^to be greatly in vogue in the shed
was that of inserting a brick in the sleeve of a work-
mate's jacket as it was hanging up underneath the wall
or behind the forge. This was sometimes done for pure
sport, though occasionally there was more than a spice
of malice in the jest. Perhaps the owner of the garment
had been guilty of an offence, of tale-bearing, or some-
thing or other to the prejudice of his fellow-mates, and
this was the means adopted for his punishment. Accord-
ingly, a large brick was quietly dropped into the sleeve
from inside the shoulder and well shaken down to the
cuff, and the jacket was left hanging innocently in its
position. At hooter time all those in the secret con-
gregated and waited for the victim of the joke to come
for his coat. Suddenly, as the hooter sounded, he
rushed up in a great hurry, seized his coat and discovered
the impediment, while all the others speedily decamped.
He had considerable difficulty in dislodging the brick
from the sleeve. After trying in vain for ten minutes
or more he was usually forced to cut away the sleeve,
or the hning, with his pocket-knife.
Another favourite trick was to place some kind of
seat under a wall in order to entice the unwary, and
to fix up above it a large tin full of soot, so arranged
as to work on a pivot, and operated by means of a
string. The soot was also sometimes mixed with water,
and stirred up so as to make an intensely black fluid.
By and by an unsuspecting workman — usually an
interloper from the yard or elsewhere — would come
along and sit down upon the improvised seat. Very
soon one of the gang shouted out " Hey up ! " sharply,
and as the victim jumped up someone pulled the string
and down came soot, water, and very often the pot, too,
upon his head. If the joke was successful the dupe's
face was as black as a sweep's ; a loud roar of laughter
270 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
went up from the workmen and the unhappy victim
very quickly got outside. Sometimes, however, he
did not take it so quietly, and I have seen a free fight
as the outcome of this adventure.
The water-pipe plays a great part in practical joking
in the shed, though this is more usually the juvenile's
method of perpetrating a jest or paying off an old score.
There is also the water-squirt, which is another juvenile
weapon. It is sufficient to say that the use of this,
whenever it is detected, is rigidly put down by the
workmen themselves ; it is universally looked upon as
a nuisance. Great injuries to health have been done,
in some cases, by senseless practical joking with the
water-pipe. I have known instances in which a workman
has thrust the nose of a pipe up the trouser leg of another
as he lay asleep on the floor in the meal-hour, during
night duty, and he has been awakened by it to find
himself quite drenched with the stream of water and
most wretchedly cold. One lad, who used to drive
the steam-hammer for me, was often treated to this
by some roughs of the shed, and, as a consequence, was
afflicted with chronic rheumatism. Finally he had to
stop away from work altogether, and he lay as helpless
as a child for nine years, with all his joints stiff and set,
and died of the torture.
There is a touch of humour in the situation sometimes,
however, as when, for instance, upon breaking up for
the Christmas holidays, a group of workmen were singing
" Let some drops now fall on me," and a wag, in the
middle of the hymn, shot a large volume of water over
them from the hose-pipe. Another trick is to fill a thin
paper bag with water and throw it from a distance.
If it happens to strike its object the bag bursts, and the
individual forming the target receives a good wetting.
AU Fools' Day is sure to be the occasion for many
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 271
jokes of a suitable kind. A common one at this time
is to take a coin and solder it to the head of a nail,
and then to drive the nail into the sill of a door, or into
the floor in a well-frequented spot where it is bound to
be noticed. As soon as it is spied efforts will certainly
be made to detach the coin, and, in the midst of it, the
party of youths who prepared the trap rush forward
and bowl the other over on the floor, at the same time
greeting him with boisterous laughter and jeers. Even
the chief manager of the works' department has been
the victim of this jest. In this case an old sixpence
was strongly soldered to the nail, which was then well
driven into the floor. Presently the manager came
along, saw the coin, and made several attempts to pick
it up. It needs not to be said that the jest itself was
witnessed in respectful silence ; the bowling over a
chief might have been attended with certain undesirable
consequences.
New Year's Eve was always suitably observed and
celebrated by those on the night-shift. When the men
came in to work they set about their toils with extra
special celerity, and the steam-hammers thumped away
with all possible power and speed. This effort was
maintained till towards midnight, and then everyone
slowed down. At about one o'clock a general cessation
of hostihties took place. The steam-hammers were
silenced, the fires were damped, and the tools were
thrown on one side. All that could be heard was the
continual " chu-chu " of the engine outside forcing the
hydrauhc pumps, and the exhaust of the donkey engine
whirhng the fan. In one corner of the shed a large
coal fire was kindled on the ground, and around it were
placed seats for the company. Then an inventive and
musical-minded workman stretched a rope across from
the principals and came forward with two sets of steel
272 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
rods, of various lengths and thicknesses, and capable
of emitting almost any note in the scale. These were
tied about with twine and suspended from the rope in
a graduated order, from the shortest to the longest.
Someone else fetched a big brass dome from a worn-out
boiler, while others had brought several old buffers
from the scrap waggon. Two were trained to strike
the rods, and the others were instructed to beat on
the dome and buffers.
Shortly before midnight, when the bells in the town
and the far-off villages began to peal out, the workmen
commenced their carnival. Bells were perfectly imi-
tated by striking the bars of steel suspended from the
rope ; the buffers contributed their sharp, clear notes,
and the brass dome sounded deeply and richly. This
was called " Ringing the changes." When the noise
had been continued for a sufficient length of time food
was brought out and the midnight meal partaken of.
Although strictly against the rules of the factory,
someone or other would be sure to have smuggled into
the shed a bottle or jar of ale ; this would be passed
round and healths drunk with great gusto. When
supper was over a melodeon or several mouth-organs
were produced, and selections were played for another
hour. After that the majority had a nap ; they seldom
started work any more that morning. The foremen and
watchmen were usually missing on New Year's Eve,
or if they should happen to arrive upon the scene they
never interfered. For once in their lives they, too, be-
came human, and accepted the situation, and perhaps
the old watchman sat down with the men and drank
out of their bottle and afterwards puffed away at his
pipe. If the high officials at the works had only
known of what was going on at the time they would
have sacked half the men the next day, but even they,
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 273
sharp as they are, do not get intelligence of every-
thing.
All this happened some twenty years ago and would
not be possible to-day. The shed in which it took place
has been deserted by the forgers and transformed into a
storehouse for manufactures. The kindly disposed old
watchmen are dead, or have been superseded, and a
new race of foremen has sprung up. Of the workmen
some are dead and others have retired. A great number
are missing, and many of those who remain have altered
to such an extent under the new conditions that I have
sometimes wondered whether they are really the same
who worked the night shift and jested with us in the
years ago. So striking is the change that has taken
place, not only in the administration, but in the very hfe
and temper of the men of the factory during the last
decade.
CHAPTER XVII
GETTING A START — THE NEW HAND — TOWN AND COUNTRY
WORKMEN — PROMOTION — DISCHARGING HANDS —
LANGUAGE OF THE SHED — EDUCATION — THE EDU-
CATED MAN NOT WANTED — GREASING THE FORGE
Formerly, when anyone was desirous of obtaining a
start in the factory, he tidied himself up and, arrayed
in clean working costume, presented himself at one or
other of the main entrances immediately after breakfast-
time so as to meet the eyes of the foremen as they re-
turned from the meal. Morning after morning, when
work was plentiful, 3'ou might have seen a crowd of men
and boys around the large doorways, or lining the pave-
ments as the black army filed in, all anxious to obtain
a job and looking wonderingly towards the opening of
the dark tunnel through which the men passed to arrive
at the different sheds. The workmen eyed the strangers
curiously, and, very often, with contempt and dis-
pleasure : it is singular that those who are safely estab-
lished themselves dislike to see new hands being put on.
They look upon them as interlopers and rivals, and
think them to be a menace to their own position.
Those in want of a start were easily recognisable
from the rest by reason of their clean and fresh appear-
ance. Many of them were clad in white corduroy
trousers, waistcoats of the same material, with cloth
jackets and well-shone boots, and they wore a plain
red or white muffler around the neck. Some of them
were very modest and bashful, and quite uneasy in
274
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 275
face of the crowd ; the boys especially were astonished
to see so many workmen at once passing by like an army.
As soon as the men had disappeared within the
entrances the hooter sounded and the great doors were
shut. Shortly afterwards the staff clerks came along,
the foremen walking between them at the same time.
Very often the two classes were not to be distinguished ;
in such a case the overseers passed by unchallenged.
It usually happened, however, that the foremen were
known to one or other of the crowd. As they came up
the word was sent round and there was a rush to see
who should be the first to put the usual question —
" Chance of a job, sir ? " This was sometimes accom-
panied with an obsequious bow, or the appHcant merely
raised his forefinger to his forehead. If the foreman
was not in need of hands, he simply said " No " to each
appUcant and pushed by them all. If he required any
he asked them where they came from and what they
had been doing, and furthermore questioned them as to
their age. If the answers were satisfactory he merely
said, " Come along with me," and conducted the men
off, and they followed with alacrity.
The boys hardly ever had the courage to address the
foremen. If they could summon up the necessary
resolution, however, they said, " Please, sir, will you
give me a job ? " and if the reply was favourable they
followed off in high glee, wondering all the way at the
strange surroundings, the busy workmen, and the vast
array of machinery. Boys usually had but little diffi-
culty in obtaining a start ; they were soon taken on
and initiated into the mysteries of the sheds. When
the foreman saw them outside he went up to them and
asked them if they wanted a job and promptly told them
to " Come along."
When an appUcant was taken in hand by the foreman
276 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
he was conducted to the shop office. From that place
he was sent, in company with the office-boy, to the
manager's department, where he had to submit to a
whole code of formal questions, and was also required
to read the rules of the factory and to subscribe his
name to them, pledging himself to their observance.
After that he was required to undergo a strict medical
examination, though one not so severe as that now in
vogue. If he was successful in this he was told to present
himself at the shed, and was there informed when he
might begin work. This might be at any hour of the
day, though it was usually fixed for the early morning
— getting a start commonly occupied one day entire.
Sometimes it happened that a man's references were
unsatisfactory ; in that case, after working for several
days, he was discharged and another was brought
forward to fill the vacancy.
The boys were always frightened at the thought of
one painful ordeal which they were told they would
have to undergo. They were seriously informed by
their new mates in the shed that they would have to be
branded on the back parts with a hot iron stamp con-
taining the initials of the railway company, and very
many of the youngsters firmly believed the tale and
awaited the operation with dreadful suspense. As
time went on, however, and they were not sent for to
the offices, they came to discredit the story and smiled
at their former credulity.
Different methods are now employed in engaging
new hands. They are now seldom taken up from the
entrances, but must apply at the works' Inquiry Office
and begin to pass through the official formula in that
way, or the foreman is supphed with names from private
sources. This is another indication of the times, a
further development of system at the works. By
LIFE IN A R.'\ILWAY FACTORY 277
reason of it many good and deserving men and boys are
precluded from the chance of getting a start in the
factory, and many less competent ones are admitted ;
it affords an excellent opportunit}^ for the exercise of
favouritism on the part of the overseer. Whoever now
has a mate he would like to introduce into the shed
approaches the foreman. If he is a favourite himself
room will be made for his friend, somehow or other,
but if he is a commoner, and not reckoned among the
" lambs," he will be met with a curt refusal, or his
application wall be put off indefinitely. The officials do
not gain anything by the method ; they will not be
able to exercise as great a choice in the selection of
hands, but must have what is sent them.
Another tendency at the works is that to keep out
all those who do not Uve in the borough or within a
certain area around the town, or, if they are given the
chance of a start, it is only upon condition that they
leave their homes and come and Uve under the shadow
of the factory walls. It is said that this rule was first
introduced chiefly in deference to the tradesmen and
shopkeepers of the town, because they are under the
impression that all wages earned in the town should
necessarily be spent there, either in the payment of
rent or the purchase of provisions and clothes.
When a new hand enters the shed he attracts con-
siderable attention ; all eyes are immediately fixed
upon him. If he has worked in the factory before he
will go about his duties in a very unconcerned manner,
but if he is a total stranger to the place he will be shy
and awkward, and will need careful and sympathetic
instruction ; it will be some time before he is entirely
used to the new surroundings. If he is rustic in appear-
ance, or seems likely to lend himself to a practical joke,
the wags of the place soon single him out and play
278 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
pranks upon him. It sometimes chances, however,
that they have mistaken their man ; they m.ay meet
with a sudden and unlocked for reprisal and be beaten
with their own weapons.
The workmen who come from the villages are usually
better-natured and also better-tempered than are those
who are strictly of the town, though there are exceptions
to the rule. On the whole, however, they make the
more congenial mates, and they work much harder and
are more conscientious. They dress much more roughly
than do their confreres of the town ; the last-named
would not think of wearing corduroys in the shed.
There is often a great temperamental difference between
the two, and they differ widely in their ideas of and
adaptability for work in the shed. The country work-
man is fresh and tractable, open to receive new ideas
and impressions of things. He brings what is practi-
cally a virgin mind to the work ; he is struck with
the entire newness of it all and enters heart and soul
into the business. He is usually more active and
vigorous, both in brain and body, than is the other, and
even where he falls short in actual intelHgence and
knowledge of things, he more than makes up for it with
painstaking effort ; he is very proud of his new situation.
The town workman, on the other hand, is often
superior, disdainful, and over-dignified. There is httle
in his surroundings that is really new and strange to
him. He has always been accustomed to the crowds
of workmen, and if he has not laboured in the shed before
he has heard all about it from his friends or parents.
His mind has often become so full of the occupations
and diversions of the town that it is incapable of receiving
new ideas ; it is like a slate that has been fully written
over and is impossible of containing another sentence
or word. Instead of exhibiting shyness or reserve
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 279
he immediately makes himself familiar and causes his
presence to be felt. Before he has been in the shed
many days he knows everything and can do everything,
in his estimation, and if you attempt to reason with
him, or offer any advice as to how to proceed, he will
inform you that he " knows all about it without any
of your tehing."
Many of the town workmen, and especially those of
the more highly skilled classes and journeymen, though
village-born themselves, show considerable contempt
for the country hand newly arrived in the shed, and
even after he has worked there many years and proved
himself to be of exceptional abihty. They consider
him at all times as an interloper and a " waster," and
make no secret of their dishke of and antipathy to him.
They often curse him to his face, and tell him that "if it
was not for the likes of him " they would be getting better
wages. " If I could have my way I'd sack every man
of you, or make you come into the town to Uve. AU
you blokes are fit for is cow-banging and cleaning out
the muck-yard ; you ought to be made come here and
work for ten shiUings a week," they say. All this has
but little effect upon the countryman, however, and he
seldom deigns to reply to it. Whether his coming to
the factory to work was really better for him or not,
prudent or otherwise, he does not attempt to argue.
There is no law that prohibits a man from changing his
occupation and taking another place when he feels
inclined so to do.
When the average boy of the town first enters the
shed he is not long in finding his way about and taking
stock of the other juveniles and men ; he is here, there,
and everywhere in a few moments. With his shirt-sleeves
turned up to the elbow he walks round, whistling or
humming a tune, and greeting all indiscriminately with
28o LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
a wink or a nod, and a " What cheer ? " or " Pip ! pip ! "
If the men beckon to him — with a sly wink at their mates,
intending to ask some ridiculous question or take a rise
out of him — the j^oungster shakes his hand at them and
retires straightway with a knowing nod and the ex-
pression, " I don't think," laying great stress upon the
don't. By and by, however, as he becomes a little
more proficient and " cheeky," the men get hold of him
and treat him to a little rough play. They \vill either
twist his arm round till he cries out with the pain, and
nearly crush him in a vice-like grip, or dip his head in
the nearest bosh of water.
The country lad behaves in a manner quite the reverse
of this. He remains strictly near his machine or steam-
hammer, and is usually too bashful to speak, unless it
be to his immediate mates. He is afraid of strangers,
and it will be some weeks before he ventures to walk
to the other end of the shed. Even when he does this
it will be not to converse with the other boys and
men, but in order to watch the machines, the furnaces,
and steam-hammers. There he will stand with great
attention and view the several operations, and if anyone
shouts out at him he will move quietly away and watch
something else with the same earnestness, or go back to
his own place. His conduct is altogether different from
that of the other, and he is often singular in turning up
his shirt-sleeves inside, and right up to the very shoulders.
Before the town boy goes home from the shed he is
careful to wash off the black from his face, comb his hair,
and tidy himself up. The country boy, on the other
hand, wears his livery home ^vith him ; he hkes everyone
to see that he has been engaged at a hot, black job.
In a word, town boys are ashamed of the badge of their
work, while country boys are proud of it.
Perhaps, when the village boy starts in the shed, one
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 281
or two kindly disposed workmen will immediately take
notice of him, and, calling him to them, will ask him
where he comes from, and upon what kind of work he
was before engaged, and all about himself, and so win
him over with their friendliness ; no matter how long
he remains in the shed he does not forget their former
kindness to him. In contradistinction to this the wags
of the shed make him a ready mark for their diversions,
running away with his cap, or sending him on many
ridiculous errands and confounding him with stupid
questions and conundrums. One favourite jest was to
send him to the engine-house after a " bucket of blast,"
and another was to despatch him for the " toe punch."
The " toe punch " consisted of a vigorous kick in the
posterior, which the youngster, if he obeyed the instruc-
tions given, was most certain to receive ; but he very soon
came to know what was intended and sturdily refused
to run any more errands.
A great alteration, physically and morally, usually
takes place in the man or boy newly arrived from
the country into the workshop. His fresh complexion
and generally healthy appearance soon disappear ;
his bearing, style of dress and all undergo a complete
change. In a few weeks' time, especially if his work
is at the fires, he becomes thin and pale, or blue and
hollow-eyed. His appetite fails ; he is always tired
and weary. For the first time in his life he must go to
the surgery and obtain medicine, or stay at home on the
sick list. His firm carriage — unless he is very careful of
it — leaves him ; he comes to stoop naturally and walks
with a slouching gait. His dress, from being clean, tidy,
and well-fitting, partakes of the colour of soot and grease
and hangs on his limbs ; I know cases in which men have
lost ten pounds in weight in a fortnight and regained it
all in a little more than a week's absence from the shed.
282 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
The change in character and morals is often as pro-
nounced as is the physical transformation ; the new-
comer, especially if he is a juvenile, is speedily initiated
into the vices prevalent in the factory and taught the
current slang phrases and expressions. Some of the
workmen are greatly to blame in respect of this, and are
guilty of almost criminal behaviour in their dealings
with young boys. They use the most filthy language
in their presence, purposely teaching them to swear, and
sometimes also producing obscene pictures and books
for their perusal. The foremen are not free from blame
and responsibihty in this matter. Many of them use
the most foul language, and curse the men openly before
the youngsters upon the shghtest provocation. There
is a species of Continental picture card that is far too
popular in some of the offices ; where the example is
set by superiors it is smaU wonder that the rank and file
are affected with the contagion. The managers them-
selves are guilty of coarse language and vulgar expres-
sions. Certain remarks of theirs are frequently repeated
and circulated in the sheds, and do not tend to improve
the morals of the workmen, or to increase respect for
those who made them.
Promotion among the workmen is very slow and
tedious, unless there happens to be an influence at work
somewhere behind, which is often the case. It is super-
fluous to say, moreover, that the cleverest man is not
the one usually advanced ; that would be contrary to aU
precedent at the factory. He is more usually the very
indi\'idual to be kept under ; the foreman will be sure
to keep him in the background and hide his light under-
neath the bushel, or try his best to snuff it out altogether.
The only material advancement possible to a workman,
besides being appointed overseer, is that of being raised
to the position of chargeman. A few privileges attach
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 283
to the post of chargeman, especially if there is a big
gang ; his wages are higher, and he draws a sum called
percentage, equal to 10 per cent, of his own weekly wages,
deducted out of the " balance " earned by the gang.
The system of paying percentage is very unpopular
with the rank and file of the workmen ; whether the
chargeman's behaviour is good or bad, he is heartily
hated by most of the men in consequence of it. Foremen
they must tolerate, but a chargeman they fully despise.
They do not like to think that any of their earnings go
to pay for his supervision, although in most cases he
is quite a necessary individual. In times past the
chargeman used to pay the piecework " balance " to
the men, having received the money in a bulk from the
company, and he was often guilty of scandalous robbery
and cheating. The chargeman could and did pay the
gang what amount he pleased, and kept several pounds
a week extra for himself. AU that is past and done with
now. The " balance " is paid to the man with his day
wages ; no opportunity of cheating him is given to the
chargeman.
As soon as it becomes known that it is intended to
discharge a number of hands considerable anxiety is
evidenced by the rank and file, and especially by the
unskilled of the shed. They begin to quake and tremble
and to be full of apprehension, for it is usually men of
their class who are chosen to go, together with any who
may be old and feeble, those who are subject to periodical
attacks of illness, who have met with an accident at some
time or other, those who are awkward and clumsy,
dwellers in country places, and those whom the foreman
owes a grudge. It can generally be surmised beforehand
by the men themselves who will be in the number of
unfortunates. Groups of workmen gather and discuss
the situation quietly ; there is great suspense until the
284 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
notices are actually issued. Sometimes as many as a
hundred men of the same shed have received their notices
of dismissal in one day. The notices are written out
upon special forms and the clerk of the shed, or the
office-boy, carries them round to the men ; it is a
dramatic moment. Although fully expecting to receive
the dreaded " bit of paper," the men hope against hope ;
they are quite dazed when the clerk approaches and
hands it to them, for they know full well what it means.
The young men may not care a scrap. To them all the
world is open. They have plenty of other opportunities ;
but to those who are subject to illness — contracted on
the premises — or who are getting on in hfe and are
becoming old and grey and unfit for further service, it
is little less than tragedy. One day's notice is served
out to the men ; they are quickly removed from the shed
and are presently forgotten.
Of the number discharged a great many loiter about
the town for several weeks, unable to find any sort of
employment. These scatter about among the villages
and try to obtain work on the farms ; those are assisted
by their relatives and kindred in various parts of the
country to leave the locality altogether. Some find
their way into the workhouse and end their days there,
and others develop into permanent loafers and outcasts
and beg their food from door to door, picking up stray
coppers around the station yard or in the market-place.
Great relief is felt in the shed when the discharging
is over. A common remark of the workman who is
left is, " Ah well ! 'Twill be better for we as be left.
'Tis better to sack a few than to keep us all on short
time here." That is invariably the view of the well-
estabhshed in the factory. Occasionally, when a work-
man knows he has been selected for dismissal through
spite, or personal malice, he may go to the overseer and
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 285
" have it out with him," but there is no remedy. The
foreman has had the whole batch in his eye for some time
past. Whatever httle indiscretion is committed he
records it and the man is marked. The overseer boasts
openly that he shall " get his own back," sooner or later.
" We don't forget it, mate, you bet, not we ! His time'U
come all right, some day." After the last great dis-
charge of hands at the factory, in the year 1909, when a
thousand men were dismissed in order to "reduce ex-
penses," it was reported that every manager at the
works was granted a substantial increase in salary.
In less than a month, for some inscrutable reason, a
number of new hands, equivalent to those who had been
discharged, were put on again.
The speech of the workmen in the sheds necessarily
varies according to the country or locahty which gave
them birth or to the part in which they were settled
before coming to the railway town, and to the degrees
of culture existing among them. The majority, in-
cluding foremen, fitters, smiths, and other journeymen
and labourers, speak a common language, plain, direct,
and homely ; there is little pretence to fine words
and " swell " phrases. The average workman detests
nothing more than to be bound to a mate who is always
giving himself airs, who lays stress upon his claim to
superior knowledge of grammar and other matters, and
■ who makes use of affected or artificial language and
" jaw-breakers," as the men call them. Sometimes
a new-comer to the shed may attempt to make an im-
pression with a magnificent style of diction, though
he is only mocked and ridiculed for his pains, and he
soon conforms to the general rule and habit of the
workshop. Even if he really possesses culture, it is
soon effaced and swallowed up amid the unsympathetic
environment of the shed. Occasionally one meets with
286 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
an individual — it may be a workman or a clerk — who
can never speak simply, but tries to express everything
in ridiculous and fantastic language, and who at all
times looks upon himself as a perfect hero. The blunt
and matter-of-fact workmen take an entirely different
view of him and his jargon, however ; they look upon
him as a perfect fool or an idiot.
One habit of speech is particularly noticeable amongst
the men, that is the adding the suffix " fied " to a number
of words ; you often hear them make use of such ex-
pressions as " Monday-fied," " sweaty-fied," " bossy-
fied," " silly-fied," and so on. Another pecuharity is
the adding the letter y to a surname, usually a mono-
syllable, and especially to those ending in dentals and
labials, such as Webb-y, Smith-y, Legg-y, Lane-y, Nash-y,
Brooks-y ; you never find the termination used with
such words as Fowler, Foster, Matthews, Jerrom, or
Johnson. This is no more than an extension of the
rule which is responsible for such forms as Tommy,
Annie, Betty, Teddy, or CharHe.
If one workman asks another how he is feehng, he
usually receives for an answer — " Rough and ready,
Hke a rat-catcher's dog," or " Passable," or " Among
the Middlings," or " In the pink, mate ! " as the case
may be, with the common addition of " Ow's you ? "
A few are still to be found, and these among the town
dwellers, too, who can neither read nor write. I especi-
ally remember one youth, of a very respectable family,
of good appearance and fairly well-to-do, who could
not write his name or read a letter. Such cases as this
are happily rare now. Where there is an illiterate work-
man, if the cause of his deficiency be carefully sought
out, it will usually be found to have been entirely through
his own fault.
As for the fruits of education exhibited among the
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 287
men in the sheds generally, that is rather a difficult
and deUcate matter to touch upon. One thing, how-
ever, is obvious to any who care to pay the shghtest
attention to it : extremely little of those subjects taught
with such assiduity at school remains with the individual
in after life — such things as grammar, composition,
history, geography, arithmetic, and chemistry are uni-
versally forgotten. The boys of the town are especially
remarkable for shortness of memory and general forget-
fulness ; they have few powers of m.ental retention, and
are almost incapable of concentrating upon a matter.
You have often to instruct them upon each trivial detail
half-a-dozen times, and before you can turn round they
have forgotten it again. The least occurrence is suffi-
cient to distract their attention. Scolding will not help
matters, it is really a natural defect. When I have
had occasion to reprove boys for apparent carelessness
and neglect they have more than once replied — " I
can't help it. I forgot it." There is great truth in
the first of those sentences.
Sport and play, and especially football, claims the
attention of the juveniles. The love of the last-named
pastime has come to be almost a disease of late years —
old and young, male and female, of every rank and
condition, are afflicted with it. Whatever leisure the
youngsters have is spent in kicking about something
or other amid the dirt and dust ; from one week's
end to another they are brimful of the fortunes of the
local football team. Many a workman boasts that he
has denied himself a Sunday dinner in order to find the
money necessary for him to attend Saturday's match.
Politics, religion, the fates of empires and governments,
the interest of life and death itself must all yield to the
supreme fascination and excitement of football.
There is an almost total lack of spontaneous interest
288 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
in anjrthing — with the exception of sport and politics —
that happens in the world without the factory walls
and the immediate vicinity of the town. The great
business of hfe is entirely ignored ; small inchnation
is discoverable — even if there were opportunities—
to pay attention to anything but the ordinary duties
and routine of the shed. The beauties of wood and
field, or hill and down, scarcely appeal to the average
working man. Though magnificent downlands and
historical rehcs are within easy reach of the town's-
people, few are tempted to walk so far from the smoky
atmosphere of the factory as to visit them ; a great
indifference to the compelling attractions of Nature
apparently exists. Yet, on the other hand, if you should
happen to enter the shed with a handful of common
wild flowers — willow-herb, rosebay, bell flower, oxeye,
and so on — you would immediately be surrounded by
a crowd of boys, and men, too, full of admiration for
the lovely strangers, and all eagerly inquiring after
their names, thereby discovering an innate passion for
them, though lack of opportunity and other circum-
stances had almost obliterated it. Every man, woman,
and child, though they may not be well aware of it,
is a nature-lover at heart ; they all have a fond regard
for the simple, natural things of the earth — birds, plants,
and flowers. The men of the shed are always eager to
listen to and take part in political discussions, but they
are, as a rule, totally indifferent to the interest of htera-
ture. At the same time, if you have anything to tell
them of birds, flowers, and animals, hfe on the farm,
haymaking, reaping, threshing, ploughing, and so on,
they are full of attention : they evidently derive great
pleasure from the relation of these simple matters and
occupations.
As for general culture, it may at once be said that the
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 289
educated man is not wanted at the factory. What is
more, the managers will not have him if they can by
any means avoid it ; there is a great antipathy to him
on the part of the staff in and out of the shed. Where
a workman is known to possess any intellectual abihties
above those commonly found and has the courage to
raise his voice in any matter or to interest himself in
things pertaining to the town, or if he has in any way
access to the ear of the pubhc, he is certain to be marked
for it ; at the first convenient opportunity he will be
shifted off the premises. Every workman who desires
to improve himself in any direction other than in that
which tends to promote the interests of the company
is looked upon with suspicion ; he is immediately in-
cluded in the number of " undesirables."
Several years ago the manager of a department,
who was at the time ChaiiTnan of the local Educational
Authority, sent for me in order to see whether I might
be of any use to him in his office. After a lengthy
interview he expressed his disappointment at being
unable to offer me any position, and took care to point
out to me the folly of my ways. My intellectual quali-
fications were beyond his consideration, said he. I
was so full of many matters as to be quite worthless to
him. He must have certificates. What was the use
of my trying, anyhow ? He would quote two words
to me — Cui bono ? The world was full of better men
than I. What was the good of literature ? His advice
to me was to go back to my furnace, look after my wife
and family, and trouble no more about it.
At the forge, however, the steady persistence of my
efforts towards self-improvement was not appreciated.
Day after day the foreman of the shed came or sent
someone with oil or grease to obliterate the few words
of Latin or Greek which I had chalked upon the back
T
290 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
of the sooty furnace in order to memorise them. Even
my tool-boxes and cupboard, always considered more or
less private and sacred, were periodically smeared vnth
fat and the operation was often carried out in a very
offensive manner. The plan was not successful, how-
ever, and I was often more amused than annoyed,
though it was most seriously intended by the overseer,
who always said he was acting under the manager's
orders. At one time he had caused the furnace back
to be tarred. Before the tar had completely dried I
innocently chalked upon it several words that figured
in my studies for the day. By the next morning the
characters had become permanent. The colour of
the chalk had set, and as often as the overseer or his
agent came with the oil-pot and removed the dust and
soot, thinking to baffle me, he was confronted with the
Horatian precept. Nil desperandum, a quotation from
the Hecuba, and irahpuGov avrov (Crucify him) from
the New Testament. The one most appreciated at the
works is he who remains silent and slavishly obeys
every order, who is wiUing to cringe and fawn hke a
dog, to swear black is white and white is black at the
bidding of his chief, to fulfil every instruction without
ever questioning the wisdom or utility of it, to be, in a
word, as clay in the potter's hand, a mere tool and a
puppet.
Where the cultured person does exist in the shed he
must generally suffer exquisite tortures. There can
be no culture without a higher sensibihty, and he will
be thereby rendered less able to endure the hardships
of the toil, and the otherwise brutal and callous environ-
ments of the place. As for the view, held in some
quarters, that education will make a man happier at
work and better satisfied with his lot and condition,
that is pure myth and fallacy, and the sooner it is dis-
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 291
pensed with the better. On the other hand, it will
most certainly produce dissatisfaction, but such, perhaps,
as will speedily wake him up to his real needs and require-
ments — a larger freedom, and the attainment of a fuller
and better Ufe. Any kind of education that tends to
make the workman at all subjective to his lot is worthless
and retrograde ; he must be roused up to battle to-
wards perfection of conditions and must himself be
prepared to make some sort of sacrifice towards the
accomplishment of that end, unless he is content to
occupy the same level for ever. Nor will it be sufficient
for him to have obtained higher wages and greater
leisure if he does not attempt to derive something more
than a mere physical or material benefit from them.
Whatever advantage is gained in the future must be
turned to sterling account — to the acquisition of useful
knowledge and the increase of mental strength and
fitness, otherwise the battle will have been fought
greatly in vain.
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
Frequent spells of short time occur at the works,
which are most certain to be followed by brisk and busy
periods, as though the officials were anxious to make up
for every moment of the previously lost time. It
usually happens that the change is made direct from
prosperity to adversity and vice versa. One week the
machinery in the sheds is running day and night and
every man is working unusual hours ; the next, every-
thing is changed. Short time is declared ; only half the
output will be needed and about half the time worked.
Similarly, after a period of short weeks, a full-time notice
is posted, and by the next night all the men are peU-mell
on overtime, working as though they had but a few hours
to Uve, Whether it is necessary or not is never ascer-
tained ; there is apparently an astounding want of order
and foresight on the part of the managing staff.
It is remarkable that, notwithstanding the terrific
nature of the hardships endured, the majority of the
men at the factory do not show themselves seriously
averse to the working of overtime. There is even
satisfaction evinced at the prospect of putting in an
extra day, or day and a half, a week, and drawing a few
shillings more in wages. The few who dislike it from
principle and on other grounds must swallow their
292
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 293
objections and join in with the rest ; whether they Hke
it or not they are forced to follow the crowd. If a man
refuses point-blank to work after the usual hours he is
punished either with suspension from the shed or instant
dismissal. Unfortunately for the good of the working
classes generally, those who are satisfied with the
ordinary rate of hours are insignificant in number. The
highly-paid workmen and journejonen are about as
unreasonable in the matter as are the lowest paid
labourers. Very often they are the more insatiable of
the two ; they will put in any number of hours provided
an opportunity is given them for so doing. The trade
unionists are usually as well agreed as the others to work
extra time ; there is but very little difference discovered
between them. No matter how loudly they declaim
against the system and advocate the abolition of over-
time, should the order be issued they commonly obey
it with alacrity.
Occasionally, though not often, it is announced that
the working of overtime may be optional. In the
extreme heat of summer, when overtime at the fires is
prevalent, the overseer may relax a little and cause it
to be known that any who wish it may go home at the
ordinary hour, but few take advantage of the offer.
I have known those who were highly paid, on the hottest
days of summer, to be so severely punished with the
heat that they could scarcely stand at their posts,
almost incapable of further effort and exhausted with
the toil, yet though it was free for them to leave at the
usual hour they would not go home. They cling to the
shed as long as they possibly can ; they have an un-
natural fondness for the stench and smoke. Such as
these are often teased and twitted and told to " bring
their beds " with them, or an outspoken workman will
tell them they ought to die and be buried on the premises.
294 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
A great part of the overtime, moreover, is not always
genuinely necessary, but is artificially engineered in
order to please this or that one and to provide someone
or other with additional pocket-money. A few charge-
men in every shed systematically nurse the overseer and
entreat, or influence him, directly or otherwise, to allow
them to work a few quarters, a Saturday afternoon, or a
Sunday.
Very often, too, some of the men live in houses owned
by their foreman. In that case a little overtime will
expedite payment of the rent ; it will not then be amiss
to allow them to work a few quarters. The putting on
a few new hands and the addition of a night shift would
obviate much overtime and give the unemployed a
chance, but the daymen are offended should that pro-
position be made. I have actually heard men volunteer
to work double-handed at the fires and promise to turn
out considerably increased quantities of work on their
turn rather than for the foreman to run a night shift
and so prevent them from working overtime.
The men's takings at such times as these are fairly
high. Some of the new hands are astonished when
they receive their wages, with the piecework " balance "
added, on a full week. One of them, in the days of the
old foreman of the frame shed, was so aghast at the
amount he had to draw he could not believe it was all
intended for him ; he thought there must be a mistake
somewhere. Accordingly, holding the money in his
hand, he went back to the foreman, and, in front of all
the other men cried — " Be this all mine, sir ? " The
foreman, who happened to be in an ill-temper, cursed
him for an idiot and promptly told him to " clear out."
At another time, when the men were being paid on
breaking up for Christmas holidays, a good-natured
country lad, whose earnings were small, chanced by
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 295
mistake to draw the wages of another, much more
highly rated than himself, and, thinking the extras were
intended for a Christmas-box, promptly went and laid
out the money in presents for his mother and dad. He
was quickly called to account, however, and had to
refund the cash at once, and he furthermore received
the imputation of being a sly rogue and a thief. Without
doubt money is plentiful during overtime, though the
extras are far from being all profit. It costs more to
live. The workman requires more to eat and drink,
more clothes, firing, light, and other sundries, to say
nothing of the sacrifice of freedom and life.
It is little real gain to the workman, even though
he have a trifle better food and clothing, a finer house
and costlier furniture, while he has to work excessively
long hours in order to pay for it. The more expensively
he lives the more time he must spend in the smoke and
stench of the shed and the greater must be his dependence
upon his employer. He that lives simply in a modest
cottage is much nearer to freedom than the other can ever
hope to be, for he is bound down to life-long servitude.
Every hour spent outside the factory walls is a precious
addition to life ; whoever wiUingly throws away the
opportunity of enjoying it is guilty of the highest folly
and negUgence. He is the curtailer of his dearest rights
and Uberties, the forger of fetters for himself and his
children after him, and the sooner the working classes
can be brought to see this the better it will be for them.
There is a great deal of talk, chiefly with a political
bias, about the sheds, of getting back to the land.
Many of the men tell you they are sick of town life and
conditions and would like to see themselves established
upon a dozen acres of land far away from the noise of the
factory, but they never make the slightest effort towards
the consummation of the wish. The fact is that, not-
296 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
withstanding all the punishments and hardships endured
in the workshop, they are still strongly attached to it
or to the life they are enabled to Uve by reason of it.
They have no intention whatever at heart of changing
their occupation. They are content to mix with the
crowd, and are unable to withstand the novelty and
excitement of the town existence.
During the many years I have spent in the works I have
known of but one case in M'hich a man left the shed to go
back to the land as a small working farmer. He had
always been careful and thrifty, and seemed to be well
fitted for the agricultural hfe, but he could not succeed
in it. After five or six years of hard labour, trying in
vain to prosper, he returned to the shed, a disappointed
and ruined man : he had spent his savings and lost the
whole of his small capital. He is still working in the
shed, and he has no intention of repeating the experiment.
The wages at the works, though low as compared with
those obtainable at other towns, are much higher than
what the farm labourer receives. Youths of eighteen
years of age in the sheds often draw more than the
carter or cowman, who may have to maintain big
families.
Consequently, while the cry of " Back to the land "
is heard on all sides, there is at the same time a most
passionate desire to get away from it and to come into
the town to work and live ; whoever is of the requisite
age will be certain to appear at the factory gates to try
and obtain admission there. The whole countryside,
within a radius of six or eight miles of the town, is almost
destitute of good strong workmen. Only the feeble
and decrepit are left behind to work on the farms —
those who cannot pass the phj^sical tests and those who
formerly worked in the factory and were discharged
through old age or other causes of unfitness. Once a
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 297
man becomes settled in the factory he is very reluctant
to leave it. Notwithstanding the rigour of the system
imposed, he usually remains there till the end of his
working days, unless he happens to meet with an
accident or dismissal. He soon loses his self-confidence
and independent spirit. The world is considerably
narrowed down in his view ; he feels bound to the life
with indissoluble fetters.
As for the work itself, men do that in the factory
they would scorn to do outside or upon the farm. They
would not be seen milking or " clod- hopping," or carrying
a yoke and pails, a truss of hay on their head, or a little
pig in their arms, or driving cattle to market. At the
same time they are not ashamed to scour down filthy
roofs and windows, to do white-washing, to clean black
and greasy engines, to wheel coal and ashes up or down
the stage, to tar the axles and wheels of waggons and
vehicles, to stand at the furnace or machine all day in
a half-fainting condition choked with the smoke and
dust of the shed ; as though it were not more wholesome
to have to do with cattle and crops than to be for ever
penned up within four walls !
Although perhaps not as keen intellectually as are
some of those who get their living in the town, and not
receiving as much in wages, the best of the farm-hands
are healthier, happier, and generally more well-to-do
than are the factory labourers. At the same time, it is
but natural that a man should desire to leave the country
to come into the town. Though the work is much
sharper and infinitely more painful while it lasts, the
shorter hours and higher pay are powerful inducements
for him to make the change. He will be free on Saturday
afternoons, and there is no Sunday labour, while his
wages will often be half as much again as what he would
get on the farm. It is idle to say that the desertion of
298 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
the countryside is a modern symptom ; that has very
Httle force, for it was always the same among highly
civiUsed communities. The Greek husbandman left the
soil and flocked to Athens to sit in the Agora, the
Egyptians thronged the streets of Alexandria, and the
Itahans deserted the plough and sickle and crowded in
Rome to see the circus games and other diversions of
the " Urbs Terr arum."
Those who, most of all, use the cry of " Back to the
land " are they that obtain the highest wages in the
sheds, and who are themselves the least likely to set
the example. Men with famiUes enlarge upon the
blessings and privileges of agricultural Hfe, but they
take great care to get their sons started in the shed at
the very earliest opportunity. As soon as they leave
school they are brought along in knickerbockers and
presented to the overseer, with the earnest hope of a
speedy admission to work on the premises. I know
of several cases in which workmen have been offered
financial help in order to instal them in small-holdings,
and they have refused point-blank. When I asked them
the reason they replied that they " would rather go home
at half-past five, if it made no difference," and that is
the crux of the whole matter. Not only this, there is
the football match, the railway " Trip," the privilege
fares, the theatre, the cinematograph, the skating-rink,
and the trams, all which must be sacrificed if the work-
man determines in favour of the simple life on the farm
or small-holding. The class of men to secure for the
land is the pick of the agricultural labourers, those who
are uncontaminated with the life of the town ;. it is
useless to think of reclaiming those who have once
entered the factory and become established there.
Even very many of those who dwell outside the town
are not content to spend their leisure in the village ;
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 299
in the evening and at week-ends they wash and dress
and flock back to the street corners or parade up and
down the thoroughfares. Innovations such as the
cinematograph and the skating-rink, though harmless
enough in some respects, are of httle real value to the
workman ; with all their claims to be " educational "
and " health-giving " the town could very well afford
to dispense with them. There is little that is really
manly and vigorous in roller-skating, and many of
the cinematograph pictures serve only to indulge the
craving for the novel and sensational. Half the boys
of the shed, and even the infants of the town, can think
of little but those ridiculously stupid and often debas-
ing entertainments, of blood and thunder, crime, and
mawkish love dramas ; their minds are rendered quite
incapable of imbibing sound and useful knowledge.
Even the trams, useful as they are, prove in several
ways detrimental to the toiler and contribute to the
restriction of his liberty. Scores of workmen I know
wait at their doors or at street corners for five, and very
often for ten minutes, in order to ride a distance of about
a quarter of a mile. I have nothing to say against the
habit provided the man can afford twopence or three-
pence a day for fares. At the same time, considered
from the point of view of health, walking the distance
would often be much better, and every copper needlessly
spent by the worker tends to make him more and more
dependent upon the shed. Where a man is engaged
upon very hot and laborious work he is often too tired
to walk home. The wages of such a one ought to be
sufficiently high to enable him to make the journey in a
taxicab, if he desired it.
Very different from this, however, is the lot of the
small-holder. He must rise early all the year round —
in summer and winter, light or dark, hot or cold weather.
300 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
His work is not of five-and-a-half, but of six or seven
days. Where cattle are kept there can be no such thing
as a day off ; dumb mouths must be fed and their needs
ministered to. He has no trams to take him to work,
very often no shelter from the storms and showers, no
shade in summer and no steam-heated refuge in winter.
His leisure is short, his companions few, his whole hfe
laborious. But he is happy and strong, healthy, and
vigorous in body and mind ; he is in many ways a better
man than is his confrere of the town. Considerably
more skill, knowledge, and human feeling are also re-
quired on the part of the carter, coNvman, and shepherd
in dealing with their teams, flocks, and herds, than in
the case of those who merely superintend mechanical
processes and have to do with lifeless blocks of iron and
steel, yet the countrymen are more or less despised by
the factory workers and are greatly deficient in wages.
Low wages are given on the farm simply because it is
the custom so to do ; if the Government were to intervene
and fix a higher rate the extra money would be paid
as a matter of course. This is the only kind of reform
that would really popularise work on the land from the
point of view of the poor man and help to check the
wholesale migration to the towns. Not until such
improvements have been made will the labourer be
willing heartily to respond to the cry of " Back to the
land."
One thing is especially to be deplored in the factory,
and that is the serious lack of recognition and apprecia-
tion of the skilful and conscientious workman ; there
is very little inducement for anyone to make efforts in
order to obtain better results at the steam-hammer or
other machine. If a workman proves himself to be
possessed of unusual skill and originality, instead of
being rewarded for it he is boycotted and held in check.
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 301
Even the managers are not above exhibiting the same
petty feeUng where they find their ideas have been
echpsed by those of less authority. It is their habit
to think that anj^hing they suggest is the best possible
of its kind.
Whatever inventions are produced by the workmen,
whether in leisure time or at the shed, become the
property of the railway company ; they claim the right
of free and unrestricted use of all patents applied for
by their employees. Consequently, if a workman dis-
covers means by which he might assist the firm with a
new process he holds his peace and troubles no more
about it. He knows that he would not be thanked for
the information, and he is also aware that if the scheme
were adopted his prices would consequently be reduced.
In more up to date sheds, and particularly in America,
bonuses are given for the best work made and every man
is induced, by aU reasonable means, to think out new
methods. An " idea box " is kept on the premises ;
every " happy thought " is written upon a form and
shpped into this. The managers alone inspect the sheets
and any suggestion considered worthy of being adopted
is paid for.i
Bonuses are paid to firemen and engine-drivers on
the line for economy in fuel. The same plan might
profitably be adopted in the factory. It is well-known
that certain men invariably produce the best work.
One furnaceman will waste as much again fuel as another.
* Since these pages were penned the railway authorities have
invited the workmen to submit to them any ideas they may have
for the improvement of dies and plant, but, unfortunately, the
local foreman still stands in the way and blocks progress. On
the pubhcation of the notice a workman of the shed put forward
a brilliant and original idea in respect of a complex job upon
which he was engaged, but the foreman promptly cut him short
and told him he was a fool, and there the matter ended.
302 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
One machineman breaks no end of drills and tools.
The work of this or that smith always looks rough and
shoddy. One stamper spoils more dies in a year than
another will in ten and often gets his work sent back,
while the other does never. If the best men were the
most highly paid there would be no just cause for com-
plaint, but they are not. They are all classed the same.
The incompetent receives as much as the competent
and is usually held higher in esteem.
That great changes have taken place in regard to
everything connected with the factory of late years is
not to be disputed. Different schemes of work and other
methods of deaUng with the men have everywhere been
introduced. New machinery has revolutionised many
branches of the labour and it usually happens that where
an appliance that saves 50 per cent, to the firm is adopted
the men are hustled into double activity ; the great delight
of the managers is to boast of the large amount of work
produced by a machine, and to add that " one man does
it all." In addition, prices all round are continually
being sharpened ; " balance " is earned \\ith greater
difficulty and only by increased effort. The officials
declare openly that piecework balance is merely given
to the men when they earn it without strenuous efforts ;
they will not admit the reasonableness of working with
any degree of sanity and comfort.
As well as new machinery, which has revolutionised
many branches of work in the factory, there are such
things as fresh laws and regulations touching accidents
and compensation for injuries, which have helped con-
siderably to modify the tone and character of the sheds.
Only those in perfect health are now admitted to the
works ; those possessed of flaws of any kind are rejected.
The tests are almost as severe as are those used for
recruiting for the Army and Navy, and young men are
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 303
refused on account of the most trivial ailments and
infirmities.
When a man shows signs of being subject to recurrent
spells of sickness he is marked out as an undesirable ;
as soon as an opportunity comes he will be quietly
shifted off the premises. If a workman falls ill he
must not only satisfy the medical authorities at the
works' infirmary, and notify his foreman of the fact, but,
after passing the doctor's examination and clearing off
the funds, he must present himself at one of the manager's
offices and be further interrogated before he is allowed
to start again. This last-named examination is deeply
resented by the rank and file, and many, though ill,
continue at work when they ought to be at home because
they do not like the irritating process of passing the test
and the certainty of having something or other recorded
against them.
In reaHty this is a system of espionage, a cowardly
inquisition, but one that is in high favour with the
foreman because it gives him the chance of getting rid
of a man on so-called medical grounds without his sus-
pecting that he has been discharged for other reasons.
By this means the shed foreman may remove anyone
against whom he has a grudge and he cannot well be
blamed himself ; the victim is told that he is " medically
unfit," and there is an end of it. The game is played by
putting a private pen mark upon the official slip to be
presented at the office. If the foreman desires to retain
the workman he puts a private mark upon the paper,
and if he wants to get rid of him and has not the courage
to tell him so to his face the mark is omitted. This is so
arranged in order that if the workman suspects that the
paper contains something to his detriment and demands
to see it, there shall be nothing that he can cavil at.
The damaging thing is in that there is no sign upon it.
304 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
Honest Mark Fell, who was one of the finest smiths
that ever worked at a forge, an excellent time-keeper,
and who was possessed of a grand character, died rather
than go out on the sick hst and be forced to pass the
dreaded inquisition. He was run down with over-work,
and was badly in need of a rest, but he did not like the
idea of going to the offices. Accordingly he kept coming
to work day after day, and grew weaker and weaker.
When at last he did stay out it was too late ; his strength
and vitahty were gone and he died within a week or two
afterwards,
A decade and a half ago one could come to the shed
fearlessly, and with perfect complacence ; work was
a pleasure in comparison with what it is now. It was
not that the toil was easy, though, as a matter of fact,
it was not so exhausting as it is at present, but there
was an entirely different feeling prevalent. The work-
man was not watched and timed at every little operation,
and he knew that as the job had been one day so it would
be the next. Now, however, every day brings fresh
troubles from some quarter or other. The supervisory
staff has been doubled or trebled, and they must do
something to justify their existence. Before the work-
man can recover from one shock he is visited with another ;
he is kept in a state of continual agitation and suspense
which, in time, operate on his mind and temper and
transform his whole character.
At one time old and experienced hands were trusted
and respected, both by reason of their great knowledge
of the work, acquired through many years, and as a
kind of tacit recognition of their long connection with
the firm, but now, when a man has been in the shed for
twenty years, however young he may be, he is no longer
wanted. There is now a very real desire to be rid of
him. For one thing, his wages are high. In addition
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 305
to this, he knows too much ; he is not pHable. It is
time he was shifted to make room for someone lower
paid, more plastic and more ignorant of the inner work-
ing of things.
If a workman has a grievance it is useless for him to
complain to the overseer, who is usually the cause of it,
and if he takes it upon himself to go and see the manager
he gets no redress. The manager always supports the
foreman whether he has acted rightly or wrongly, and
the man is remembered and branded as a malcontent ;
he will be carefully watched ever after. The safest
way to quell a man is to keep him hard at work. While
his nose is firm upon the grindstone there is no danger
of his indulging in speculations of any kind ; he could
no more realise himself than he could hope to see the
stars at midday.
While the men are inside the walls of the factory,
they are under the most severe laws and restrictions,
many of which are utterly ridiculous, and out of all
reason considering the general circumstances of the
toil and the conditions in vogue ; they are indeed
prisoners in every sense of the term. In the midst of
the busiest period of hay-making and harvest-cart,
ploughing or threshing, a short stop is always made for
refreshment, or the labourer takes a crust of bread and
cheese from his pocket and eats it at his work and is
strengthened with it, but in the factory one must not
be seen to crack a nut, or eat an apple or biscuit, much
less to partake of any other food. If he should break
the rule and be seen eating, he will be marked for it
and told to "get a pass out and go home." Four or
five hours is a long time to keep up a strenuous pace
at the fires. A half-way relaxation of ten minutes
would be good for everyone ; the workman would more
than make up for it afterwards,
u
3o6 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
A regrettable dulness is discovered by very many of
the men, which may be bred of the labour itself and the
extremely monotonous conditions of the factory. There
is little or no thought taken for the future, no knowledge
of the value of hfe, and not much desire to know, either.
The workmen do not think for themselves, and if you
should be at the pains of pointing out anything for their
benefit they will tell you that you are mad, or curse you
for a SociaHst. Anyone at the works who holds a view
different from that expressed by the crowd is called a
Socialist, rightly or \vrongly ; it would need an earth-
quake to rouse many of the men out of their apathy
and indifference. It is more than education at fault.
There is something wrong at the very roots of the tree.
The whole system of Hfe requires overhauling and
revolutionising ; the national character is become fiat
and stale.
I have already, in the first chapter, referred to labour
unrest. That is the perfectly natural outcome of
modern conditions of labour, the long spell of commercial
prosperity, and of the spread of knowledge among the
working classes. It is not to be viewed with misgiving
at all, at any rate, not by those who can look intelli-
gently into the future and brush aside the paltry pre-
judices that are common ever5rwhere to-day. The
very fact that working-men are rousing themselves
and showing a masterly interest in problems of the hour,
and are prepared to fight fairly and bravely for better
conditions should be a source of satisfaction to everyone.
It proves, at least, that they are awake and aHve ; that
they have cast off torpor and stagnation and put on
power and virility, and that is surely a good omen
both for the future of democracy and for the nation at
large. The extent of the riches of this country is so
great as to be inconceivable to the workers ; if they
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY 307
knew how much wealth there really is they would need
to have no scruples in pressing with all their might for
a fairer share in the proiits of their labours. Where
the pace is so much faster and the output considerably
increased it is natural that there should be a demand
for higher wages and shorter hours. More leisure and
rest are absolutely indispensable in order properly to
recuperate for the increased demands made upon the
workmen's physical powers. The difficulties of forming
agreements with the men are not nearly as great as they
are represented to be. Drastic changes could be made
with but very little inconvenience or loss to the firm ;
the transition would be almost imperceptible.
The idea that the general factory week should be
completed in five turns, the day shifts to finish working
by Friday night, and the night shifts to complete their
toils by Saturday morning, has long been in my mind.
The having two clear days of leisure would give the
worker an opportunity of entirely shaking off the effects
of confinement in the shed at the week-end, and of
starting work a new man on the Monday morning. It
is impossible for one to recuperate sufficiently in the
short space of time at present allowed ; he is never free
from the effects of the hurry and speed of the machinery.
There is, moreover, no time to get away from the shadow
and ugliness of the factory walls and to make the ac-
quaintance of other scenes in the country round about.
When the sheds are closed on Saturdays for short time,
crowds of workers either leave the town on foot and
walk around the adjacent villages, enjoying the fresh,
pure air, or take short trips by the train and come back
strengthened with the change ; you hear many a one
say, during the following week, that he feels extra fit
and well.
If a week of forty- eight hours were divided out and
3o8 LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
completed in five turns, instead of six, it would be both
popular with the men and economical for the employers.
The fuel and light, the cost of steaming up the boilers
and the general wear and tear of machinery on the sixth
turn and for several hours a day besides would be saved,
and there would be about an equivalent amount of work
produced. It is useless for critics and calculators to
come forward with figures and quotations to disprove
the statement and show its impossibility ; I have worked
in the shed long enough to understand the true signi-
ficance of things. What is more, the workman is not,
and never will be a mathematical machine ; his efforts
and powers are not to be calculated by the set rules of
arithmetic.
The whole trend of things in the industrial world is
towards shorter hours, better wages, and a greater pro-
portion of liberty for the workman ; all the objections
that can be raised and schemes devised will not stop
the progressive movement. Sooner or later the barriers
must give way, and the goal will have been reached ;
the wonder then will be that the change was not effected
earlier. I would bid all toilers and moilers, in and out
of factories, to be of good hope and cheer, to fight on
and press steadily forward ; victory will be certain to
follow. At the same time, one must not expect to arrive
at an utter immunity from hardships, nor, perhaps,
will the whole of the differences between capital and
labour ever be absolutely removed and every problem
solved. Many conditions, however, will most certainly
have been bettered, many disputes settled and evils
overcome, and this, it will be confessed, is worth hving
and hoping for.
APPENDIX
Table of average day wages per week of fifty- four
hours paid to men employed at Swindon Railway
Works, July 1914 :—
Foremen
70s.
Coppersmiths
30s
Foremen, Assistant
. 50s.
Tinsmiths
30S
Draughtsmen
35s.
Moulders .
26s
Clerks, Monthly Staff
30s.
Wheel Turners .
24s
Clerks, Shop
25s.
Machinemen, General
24s
Forgemen .
33s.
Carriage Body -makers
30s
Smiths
33s.
Carriage Finishers
28s
Rolling Mills Men
30s.
Waggon-builders
28s
Fumacemen
28s.
Road-Waggon Builders
28s
Stampers .
28s.
Carpenters
28s
Stampers' Assistants
22s.
Painters .
26s
Smiths' Strikers .
22s.
Saw Mills, Timber
24s
Pattern-makers .
35s.
Riveters .
26s
Boilermakers
34s.
Bricklayers
28s
Fitters and Turners
34s.
Labourers, Skilled
22s
Fitters, Engine .
34s.
Labourers, Unskilled .
20s
Fitters, Carriage .
28s.
Labourers, Fitters'
21S
Die-sinkers
34s.
Storekeepers
23s
309
INDEX
Abingdon, 44
Accident, 14, 243
Accumulators, 149
Africa,92
Agora, 298
" Ajax," 141
Alexandria, 29S
All Fools' Day, 270
America, 92, 102, 150, 301
Annealed, 21
Antiquated, 25
Antonio, 234
Apprentices (smiths') 90
Aquatic plants, 44
Archfcologist, 177
Army, 77, 302
Ash-wheelers, 47
Athens, 298
Athletes, 63
Atlantic, 139, 169
Atlas, 73
Avon, river, 22, 45
Axles, 20
" Back to the Land," 296
Balance, 283
Balance-week, 254
Balling-up, 17
Bank Holidays, 245
Battleship, no
Bays, 10
Beam-engine, 151
Beltage, 100
Besom, 85
Bible, 32
" Big Firm," 256
Birmingham, 92, 151
Bogies, II
Boilers, 136
Boilersmiths, 74, 113
Bonuses, 301
Borough, 18
Boss, I ^4
" Black List," 230
Blast-furnace, 116
Blood-poisoning, 213
Bloom, 108
" Blower," 150
Bricklayers, 48
Bricklayers' labourers, 49
Bridge, of furnace, 46
Bristol, 13, 44
Broad-gauge, 67
Broadway, Hammorsmith, 23S
" Bucket of blast," 281
Buffalo Bill, 77, 156
Buffer, 23
Bullion van, 70
" Bummer," 134
Burns, 19
Burs, 23
Cabin, 25
Csesar, Julius, 264
Callipers, 102
Canada, 228
Canvas belts, 147
Cape of Good Hope, 102
Capitalist, 2
Carlyle, Thomas, 237
Carriage body-makers, 56
Carriage finishers, 38
Cassius, 264
Castellum, 12
Casuals, 69
Catastrophe, 38
Ceremonious, 57
Ceylon, 157
Chalk-pits, 13
Channel Islands, 173
Chargeman, 282
Charities, 97
Cheapjack, 173
Check-box, 130
811
312
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
Chelidon, 263
Cheltenham, 92
Chemicals, 33
China, 102, 157, 173
Cinematograph, 298
Cirencester, 13
Clay-pits, 262
Clinkering, 46
" Clod -hopping," 297
Coal-heavers, 14
Coffee stalls, 129
Compensation, 227
Compressed air, 172
Condensation, 11
Consumption, 126
Contraband, 31
Corporation, 62
Cotswold Hills, 45
Cottage Hospital, 97
Countershaft, 145
Covered goods waggons, 71
" Cow-banging," 279
Cramp, 94
Cricklade, 44
Cushion-beaters, 41
Cutting-down, 68
Cj'clops, 208
Cyhnder, 18
Deadwood Dick, 77
Dee, river, 22
Democracy, 294
Detectives, 37
Detonators, 23
" Diagonals," 23
Dinner-can, 112
" Discontent," 4
" Dolly," 69
Donkey-engine, 150
Donkej'-man, 109
Door-boy, no
Dorsetshire, 247
Double-handed, 306
Dowlais, 173
Draughtsmen, 133
Dredger, 45
Drop-stamp, 153
Dumb-bells, 144
Durham, 92
Earthquake, 18
Ebony, 15
Educational Authority, 289
Egypt, 173
Egyptians, 298
Electricity in belts, 147
Engine-cranks, 104
Entrenchment, 13
Erin, 173
Espionage, 303
Examination, 93
Excursionists, 26
Exhaust of engines, 63
Exhibition, 88
Ex-Hussar, 73
Explosions, 36
Fable, 133
Factory Acts, 74
Factory s3'Stem, 103
Falstaffian, 181
Fan, 145
Feed-pipes, 210
Feudal times, i
Fire-engine, 33
Fires, 34
First Aid Men, 244
Fitters, 10 1
" Flatter," 21
Flying Dutchman, 68
Fogmen, 23
" Foreigners," 86
Forgemen, 106
Forging, 18
Fortress, 11
Foundry, 116
France, 150
Freight trains, 123
" Fuller," 21
Gallerv-men, 87
Gauge-glass, 166
Gazing-stock, 186
Geological data, 50
Germany, 20, 150
Gloucester, 44, 92
Government, 8, 300
Greeks, i, 289
Grindstones, bursting of, 152
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
3^3
Crossness of atmosphere, 249
Gun barrel, 17
Hammer-driver, 107
Hammersmith, 237
Heavy-weights, 73
Hecuba, 290
" Hell Corner," 142
Hercules, 52
Hereditary, 91
Hibernian, 182
Historical relics, 288
Holder-up, 69
Hooter, 125
Horatian, 290
Horse-rake, 266
Hustle, 183
Hydraulic work, 171
Idea-box, 301
" lerky," 59
Improvers, 90
Incendiarism, 34
Inferno, 208
Injector, 215
Inquiry office, 276
Inquisition, 303
Irishmen, 173
" Ironopolis," 105
Italians, 298
Jackboots, 17, iii
Jam, 148
" Jaw-breakers," 285
Jefferies, Richard, 12
" Jersey Lily," 173
Jesus Christ, 246
Jew's harp, 166
" Jogglers," 82
" JoggUng," 14
John Bright, 236
Journals, axle, 13
Justin M'Carthy, 238
Kennet, river, 22
Labour unrest, i
" Lambs," 177
Lancaster, 92
Latin, 289
Laughing-stock, 29
Lean-to, 142
Library, 248
Liddington Hill, 12
Lightning, 10
Literary Society, 135
Liverpool, 92
" Loco " boiler, 164
Loitering, 29
London, 44, 45, 68
Magnesia, 166
Malcontent, 305
Malleable steel, 103
Mallet, 83
Marines, 232
Mark Fell, 304
Mars, 219
May-pole, 63
Medical Report, 242
Mediterranean, 263
Merchant of Venice, 234
Mess-rooms, 262
Middlesborough, 105, 173
Midlands, 105, 155
Militia, 174
Mines, i
Moliere, 154
" Monday-fied," 257
" Monkey," of hammer, 109
Monsieur Jourdain, 154
Monthly staff, 133
Motherwell, 173
Moulders, 119
Mrs Langtry, 237
Mulatto, 174
Municipalities, 2
Mushrooms, 221
Narrow-gauge, 67
Navy, 77, 143, 302
Newcastle, 116
New Testament, 290
New Year's Eve, 271
Nicknames, 77
Night shift, 206
" Nobbling," 113
Oatmeal, 261
Obsequious, 275
314
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
Officialism, 7
Oileus, Ajax, 141
Oil furnace, 3, 139
Oscar Wilde, 237
Output, 5
Overalls, loi
Overseer, 7
Overtime, 292
Oxford, 13
Painters, 38
Palmy days, 21
Pandemonium, 71, 135
Paris, 158
Parliament, 8
Parrot, river, 22
Passeres, 263
Pater familias, 127
Pattern-makers, 38
Pay-day, 253
Pension, 32
Percentage, 51, 283
Piece-work inspector, 134
Piers and panels, 10
Pig iron, 117
" Piles," 16
Platers, boiler, 113
Pneumatic riveting machine,70
Police Court, 53
Politics, 287
Porter-bar, 105
" Pride o' the Prairie," 198
Provocation, 4
" Puddling," 17
" Puller-up," 71
Pull-rod, 201
Punishment, 15
Pushfulness, 53
Railway Institute, 248
" Ram," 104, 143
" Rasher- waggon," in
References, 276
Refrigerator van, 70
Repairs, 37
" Riddle," 83
River Liffey, 155
Rivet-boys, 75
Road-waggon builder, 54
Rolling mills, 15
Romans, i, 85
Rome, 298
Rooks, 263
Rotherham, 92
Roj^al train, 233
Rubbish heap, 61
Ruffianism, 56
Salisbury, 157
Sanitary, 32
Scientist, 20
Scotland, 13, 20, 105
Scrap-waggons, 21
Serfs, I
" Set-tool, 82
Severn, 22
Shear-off (bur), 172
Sheer-legs, 14
Sheffield, 13, 92, 105
Shingling, 16
Shop clerks, 133
Shunters, 25
Shylock, 234
Sick and Medical Fund, 253
Signalmen, 68, 124
Skating-rink, 298
Skulker, 47
Slag, 171
Smithy, 82
Smoke-box, 115
Smoking, 27
Smudging, 37
" Snap " (rivet), 78
Sneak, 31
Snowstorm, 121
Socialist, 36
Sole-bar, 67
Sop, 5
Speeding-up, 5
Stamping, 98
State, 8
Steam-saw, 16
Steamship Company, 2
Stoppage week, 254
Storekeeper, 239
" Strappie," 148
Sunderland, 116, 179
Supper-hour, 215
Surgery, 281
" Swanker," 265
LIFE IN A RAILWAY FACTORY
315
Tamar, river, 22
Tarpaulin, 22
Taxicab, 299
Teak, 13
Telamon, 141
" Tell-tale," 28
Tennyson, 237
Thales, i
Thames, river, 22, 45
Theft, 30, 81
Throw-oft (wheels), 152
" Ticket," 131
Tipperary, 182
Titanic, 191
Titans, 139
" Toe-punch," 281
T pieces, 20
Towy, river, 22
Trades Union, 2, 102
Trams, 299
Transfer, 40, 43
Transport, 44
Transvaal, 173
Traversing Table, iCi
Trespassers, 67
Trimmer, 210
" Trip," 245
Troy, 141
Tubing (boilers), 113
Tug-of-war, 73
Tyres, 13
Uffington, 233
Ugliness, 12
Under-strapper, 61 ^
" Undesirables," 289
Upholsterers, 38
Up-setting, 142
Vacuum arrangement, 41
Ventilation, 10
Viaduct, 22
Virgil, I
Wages, 5
Wales, 179, 181
Washer, 21
Washing-down, 37
Waster, 279
Watchmen, 25
Water-closet, 32
Water-gas, 220
Water-pipe, 270
Weather-vane, 260
Weekly staff, 133
Welsh pits, 14
West Indies, 173
Weymouth, 247
Wheel shed, 57
Whistler, the artist, 237
Wiltshire, 158
Witney, 13
Worcester, 92
Works' Institute, 135
Wye, river, 22
Yankee hammers, 133
BV THE SAME AUTHOR
A WILTSHIRE VILLAGE
By ALFRED \YILLIAMS
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