clamorous as I had expected. In the plate and angle shops vast traveling cranes swing overhead with the ease and silence of huge dark birds. Acetylene torches, blowing dainty little wisps of blue-gold flame, slice through half-inch steel plates while the dissolving metal dribbles down in yellow bubbles and streamers and a shower of brilliant sparks flies off gently and quietly. Great wedges descend on flat plates and bend them into right angles with only a soft crunch.
Scaling tall scaffolds we clambered over one of the half-finished hulls, a naked shell of steel echoing with sudden fierce outbursts of riveting. As it was raining the out-of-door riveting had ceased, as whenever there is danger of water getting under the flange of the rivet there is a liability of the work not being quite watertight. But between decks some of the men were hard at work. Across the deck red-hot rivets came flying through the air from the brazier; these were deftly caught in a metal cone by the passer. With a long pair of tongs he inserts the glowing finger of metal in the hole; the backer-up holds it rigid with a compressed-air hammer, while the riveter, on the other side of the plates, mushrooms down the shining stalk of the rivet with his air gun. It is fascinating to watch the end of the rivet flattening under the chattering blows of the gun. An expert riveting team can drive several hundred rivets a day, and when paid on piecework the team gets six and one-half cents per rivet. This is divided among the
