When he was sixteen, on the 1st May, 1889, Tom left school, and as a
premium apprentice entered the shipyard of Messrs. Harland & Wolff. In
one important respect the date of his entry may be accounted fortunate,
for about that time, chiefly through the enterprise of the White Star
Company in the matter of constructing a fleet of giant ships for the
Atlantic service, great developments were imminent, if not already
begun, in the shipping world. To a boy of sixteen, however, the change
from the comforts of home and the comparative freedom of school-life to
the stern discipline of the yards must have been exacting. It was work
now, and plenty of it, summer and winter, day in day out, the hardest he
could do at the hardest could be given him. He was to be tested to the
full. With characteristic wisdom, Mr. Pirrie had decided that no favour
whatever was to be shown the boy on the score of relationship. By his
own efforts and abilities he must make his way, profiting by no more
than the inspiration of his uncle's example: and if he failed, well,
that too was a way many another had gone before him.
But Tom was not of the breed that fails. He took to his work instantly
and with enthusiasm. Distance from home necessitated his living through
the workaday week in Belfast. Every morning he rose at ten minutes to
five and was at work in the Yard punctually by six o'clock. His first
three months were spent in the Joiner's shop, the next month with the
Cabinet makers, the two following months working in ships. There
followed two months in the Main store; then five with the Shipwrights,
two in the Moulding loft, two with the Painters, eight with the iron
Shipwrights, six with the Fitters, three with the Pattern-makers, eight
with the Smiths. A long spell of eighteen months in the Drawing office
completed his term of five years as an apprentice.
[Illustration: HARLAND AND WOLFF'S TURBINE ERECTING SHOP]
Throughout that long ordeal Tom inspired everyone who saw him, workmen,
foremen, managers, and those in higher authority, as much by the force
of his personal character as by his qualities of industry. Without doubt
here was one destined to success. He was thorough to the smallest
detail. He mastered everything with the ease of one in love with his
task. We have a picture of him drawn by a comrade, in his moleskin
trousers and linen jacket, and instinctively regarded by his
fellow-apprentices as their leader, friend and adviser in all matters of
shipyard lore and tradition. "He was some steps ahead of me in his
progress through the Yard," the account goes on, "so I saw him only at
the breakfast and luncheon hours, but I can remember how encouraging his
cheery optimism and unfailing friendship were to one who found the path
at times far from easy and the demands on one's patience almost more
than could be endured." Many a workman, too, with whom he wrought at
that time will tell you to-day, and with a regret at his untimely loss
as pathetic as it is sincere, how faithful he was, how upstanding,
generous. He would work at full pressure in order to gain time to assist
an old workman "in pulling up his job." He would share his lunch with a
mate, toil half the night in relief of a fellow-apprentice who had been
overcome by sickness, or would plunge gallantly into a flooded hold to
stop a leakage. "It seemed his delight," writes a foreman, "to make
those around him happy. His was ever the friendly greeting and the warm
handshake and kind disposition." Such testimony is worth pages of
outside eulogy, and testimony of its kind, from all sorts and
conditions, exists in abundance.
The long day's work over at the Island, many a young man would have
preferred, and naturally perhaps, to spend his evenings pleasurably: not
so Tom Andrews. Knowing the necessity, if real success were to be
attained, of perfecting himself on the technical as much as on the
practical side of his profession, and perhaps having a desire also to
make good what he considered wasted opportunities at school, he pursued,
during the five years of his apprenticeship, and afterwards too, a rigid
course of night studies: in this way gaining an excellent knowledge of
Machine and Freehand drawing, of Applied mechanics, and the theory of
Naval architecture. So assiduously did he study that seldom was he in
bed before eleven o'clock; he read no novels, wasted no time over
newspapers; and hardly could be persuaded by his friends to give them
his company for an occasional evening. His weekly game of cricket or
hockey, with a day's hunting now and then or an afternoon's yachting on
the Lough, gave him all the relaxation he could permit himself; and by
1894, when his term of apprenticeship ended, the thrill of hitting a
ball over the boundary (and Tom was a mighty hitter who felt the thrill
often) was experienced with less and still less frequency, whilst
sometimes now, and more frequently as time went on, the joy of spending
Sunday with his dear folk at Comber had to be foregone. Even when the
Presidency of the Northern Cricket Union was pressed upon him, such were
the stern claims of duty that the pleasure of accepting it had
ruthlessly to be sacrificed.
What grit, what zest and sense of duty, the boy--for he was no more--must
have had, so to labour and yet to thrive gloriously! Perfect health, his
sound physique, his sunny nature, and strict adherence to the principles
of temperance encouraged by his mother, helped him to attain fine
manhood. During the period of his apprenticeship he was up to time on
every morning of the five years except one--and of his doings on that
fateful morning a story is told which, better perhaps than any other,
throws light upon his character.
It was a good custom of the firm to award a gold watch to every pupil
who ended his term without being late once. That morning Tom's clock had
failed to ring its alarm at the usual time, so despite every endeavour
the boy could not reach the gates before ten minutes past six. He might,
by losing the whole day and making some excuse, have escaped penalty:
instead, he waited outside the gates until eight o'clock and went in to
work at the breakfast hour.
One other story relating to this period is told by his mother. It too
reveals distinctive points of character.
On an occasion Tom, with several fellow-pupils, went on a walking tour
during the Easter holidays over the Ards peninsula. Crossing Strangford
Lough at Portaferry, they visited St. John's Point, the most easterly
part of Ireland; then, finding the tide favourable, crossed the sands
from Ballykinler to Dundrum--Tom carrying the youngest of the party on
his back through a deep intervening stretch of water--and thence, by way
of Newcastle, proceeded across the mountains to Rostrevor.
In their hotel at Rostrevor the boys, during an excess of high spirits,
broke the rail of a bedstead; whereupon Tom, assuming responsibility,
told the landlady that he would bear the expense of repairing the break.
She answered that in her hotel they did not keep patched beds,
consequently would be troubling him for the cost of a new one.
"If so, the old one belongs to me," said Tom.
"Provided you'll be taking it away," countered the dame.
The boy argued no further, but finding presently, through a friendly
chambermaid, an old charwoman who said her sick husband would rejoice in
the luxury of the bedstead, he offered to mend it and give it to her.
"Ah, but wouldn't it be more than my place is worth, child dear," she
answered, "for the like of me to be taking it from the hotel."
"Never mind that," said Tom. "Give me your address, borrow a screw
driver, and I'll see to it."
So he and his companions, having roughly repaired the rail, took the
bedstead to pieces, and, applauded by the visitors, carried it to the
street. A good-natured tram conductor allowed them to load their burden
on an end of his car. Soon they reached the woman's home, bore in the
bedstead, set it up in the humble room, raised the old man and his straw
mattress upon it from the floor, made him comfortable, and dowered with
all the blessings the old couple could invoke upon them, went away
happy.