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 a.s.sisted 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 inst.i.tution called "The Black List." This list 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 workman in the list, he is sent for to the office, bullied by the overseer before the clerks and office-boy, and warned as to the future. "I've put you on the black list. 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 required a.s.sistance. 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 listen 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 list." You will never make any satisfactory progress; you had better seek out another place and make a fresh start[3] in life.

[3] I am told that the "Black List" has now been abolished. It certainly existed down to several years ago.

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 pa.s.ses 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 examiner and hustled him off to pa.s.s the "medical test."

"What have you been at with the hammer?" said I to little Jim one day, finding the lever working very stiffly.

"I dunno. The luminator's broke," answered he.

"The what broke?" I inquired.

"That there yu-bricator, the thing what you puts the oil in," he replied.

Most of the articles stamped seemed to suggest something or other to Jim's childish mind. One job, made three at a time, looked like "little bridges"; something else resembled great b.u.t.terflies. 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, everything cast aside, his shirt unb.u.t.toned, his face soot black, and with the sweat streaming down his nose and chin, he said naively--"This is what I calls a weary life. This place is more like a prison than anything else." After that he wished to know if I had any apples in my garden, or, failing that, would I bring him along some crabs in my pocket?

"Double Stoppage Charlie" was well-known at the works. He first of all used to keep his wife short of cash, telling her each pay-day it was "double stoppage this week." He often figured in a public 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 Charlie." There was also "Southampton Charlie," who had seen service with the Marines, and who was for ever talking about the "gossoons" and telling monstrous yarns of things--chiefly of b.l.o.o.d.y fights and shipwrecks. 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 "p.r.o.nounciation."

Jimmy Eustace--better known as "Jimmy Useless"--was full of poaching adventures and midnight tussles with the gamekeepers and police. He was delighted to tell you of how they dodged the men in blue and waded half a mile, up to their necks in water, along the ca.n.a.l in the dark hours in order to keep out of their clutches. This happened in his young days, in the neighbourhood of Uffington. 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 la.s.s, and who gave himself certain unjustifiable airs, representing himself as holding a position in the drawing office. After the wedding took place, at the end of the first week, he took home 18s. 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 his 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 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 light 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 Shylock 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 16s. 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.

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 c.o.ke heap, though they were believed to exist by the credulous among the night-men at the factory. "Sammy," the c.o.kewheeler, had a mortal dread of the c.o.keheap 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 c.o.ke gave way and fell with a crash, and Sammy, stuttering and stammering with a childlike simplicity and in a paroxysm of fear, rushed off and told how the "ghost" had a.s.sailed 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. 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 a.s.sailed and befooled with disgusting buffoonery and drivelling nonsense to such an extent that he became a perfect mental wreck, to the complete amus.e.m.e.nt 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 railway 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.

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----l," 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 brilliant literary 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 shilling to post a letter for him. One day Jim Cole was driving him, and they met Mrs. Langtry in her carriage. Thereupon 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 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 slightest 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 una.s.suming 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 bra.s.ses. 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 official moment, and then to close 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 applicant for stores with fantastic ceremony, examining the foreman's slip 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 are required they are counted out with critical exactness, 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 slip. 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 workmen 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 you 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 religious 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 liar, 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--HOLIDAYS--"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 prevailing--the dense smoke and fumes from the oil forges, and the thick, sharp dust and ashes from the c.o.ke 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 wearisome 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 weekend 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 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 pa.s.sing 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 workshops 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 feeling well he is liable to meet with an accident at any moment. He has not 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 moderately 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 alike--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 hindrance. 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 commands and exhortations they use their utmost powers to approach the spot and catch a glimpse of the victim. The overseer shouts, curses, and waves his hands frantically, and warns them all of what he will do, but the men doggedly refuse to disperse until they have satisfied their curiosity and abated their excitement.

Immediately a man is down one hurries off to the ambulance shed for the stretcher, another hastens to 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 lifted 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 n.o.body good, and that, for the most part, is the philosophy of the men at the factory.

There is one other point worth remembering in connection with the matter of pure or impure air in the shed, and that is, that the quality 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 conditions. 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 p.r.i.c.ked 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 applicable.

The year at the factory is divided into three general periods; _i.e._, from Christmas till Easter, Easter till "Trip"--which is held in July--and Trip till Christmas. There are furthermore the Bank Holidays 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 were not forced to do so by the const.i.tution of the calendar and the natural order of things.

Very little travelling is done by the workmen during the Easter holidays. 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 listen to his childish talk as he told us about the long walks he had taken in search of primroses and violets, going without his dinner and tea in order to collect a posy of the precious flowers. Questioned 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 generally 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 Whitsuntide holidays they usually find the official noticeboard in the shed covered with posters containing the preliminary 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 holiday draws near the spirits of the workmen--especially of the younger ones, who have no domestic responsibilities--rise considerably. 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 circ.u.mstances 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.