In the metropolis there is always to be found a vast amount of ‘labour
unattached,’ recruited from men in nearly every rank of life. To
form an idea of the surplusage in the labour market, advertise for a
‘light-porter,’ and you will have at least two hundred applications
before eleven o’clock the next day. If you desire a clerk at a salary
of, say, twenty shillings a week, half a thousand eager candidates
will apply for the vacancy. While if you have anything of a superior
sort to offer, such as the secretaryship of a charitable institution,
or hospital, suitable to the talents of retired military officers
and others, probably a thousand competitors will offer themselves to
your discrimination. Of course many people will be surprised that
such numbers should prefer living in semi-idleness, hunting after
any opportunity that offers, rather than exert themselves to obtain
employment in less crowded localities; but then in London there is
the great magnet of the ‘lucky chance’ constantly before their eyes.
If one obtains a situation at a pound a week, there are constantly
opportunities of bettering one’s self, especially in large firms, who
carefully select and promote their men according to capability and
merit. Then, again, a man may be starving in a garret, poorly dressed,
existing somehow by borrowing a shilling or two occasionally when you
meet him in the street; but in a month or two may be in a good position
in an insurance company or an actuary’s office. But as bread must be
obtained somehow until the golden opportunity offers itself, a number
of men who have seen better days are compelled by sheer necessity to
fly to that paradise of the destitute, the Docks.
The great Dock Companies in London, fully aware of the superabundance
of labour always in the market, do not employ, permanently, one-third
of the men they require, since they are usually able to procure at
least twice as many hands as they need at a moment’s notice. Indeed
so great is the competition for even Dock employment, that unless you
are known to one of the foremen, or in some way furnished with an
introduction to one of the Company’s officials, you stand a very poor
chance of obtaining work, save occasionally, when a sudden pressure
of business comes on and they are glad to accept any one that offers.
Sometimes a huge ship comes in requiring to be discharged in a few
days; and everybody who can work may, by offering himself, obtain
employment for a brief period; but, the time of pressure over, he will
present himself at the Dock-gates day after day in vain. The Company’s
foremen of course give the preference to their regular hands, and the
stranger who has helped them in their time of need is passed over. So
the best thing you can do if you desire employment at the Docks is to
obtain a letter of recommendation from some broker or merchant who does
business with the Company, and according to the influence he possesses
so will your work be regulated. It will require great influence to
enable you to be placed on the ‘permanent’ or ‘extra-permanent’ staff;
and the utmost you can hope for is to obtain employment by the day so
long as any ships are at work, with the prospect of losing a few days
now and then when things are dull.
The clock has struck a quarter past seven in the morning, and already
may be seen clustered round the Dock-gates small groups of men, with
hands invariably in their pockets and short pipes in their mouths,
discussing the prospect of work for the day, and the only chance they
have of obtaining a meal of food and a night’s lodging. These are the
‘chance’ or ‘odd-time’ men, who if they are not taken on the first
thing, loiter about the entrance all day, waiting a ‘call’ from one of
the foremen; sometimes making two, four, or five hours, as the case
may be. Of all this class of men, it may be truly said that they are
waiters upon Providence, for they are usually the last selected; and
as to their garments (their sole earthly possession), very few of them
could obtain a shilling for all they wear from head to foot. Indeed
so dilapidated are some of their shoes, that it is no uncommon thing
for them to be paid off after an hour’s work or so, because their feet
will not retain a footing upon a slippery floor. It also occurs at
times that they come in to work so famished that they sink exhausted
after a little exertion, though in this case the foremen who employ
them are generally kind-hearted enough to advance a few pence to obtain
a little food to enable them to hold out the day. As the clock nears
the half-hour (7.30 A.M.) the regular ‘outsiders’ come up. These men
are in better condition than the others; but there is a seedy, ragged
appearance about most of them, which tells the unmistakable tale that
their chief earnings go to the public-house. And now there is a stir. A
small wicket in the gate is open, and a foreman comes out, and calling
out the names of the men he requires, they pass in. These are engaged
by the half-hour, and are liable to be dismissed as soon as their work
is completed, let the time be what it may. Usually they remain at work
the whole day; but, should any unforeseen occurrence—such as stoppage
of a ship’s discharge on account of weather, or a break-down in some of
the machinery for removing cargo—prevent them labouring, the word is
passed to ‘wash up,’ and they are paid off at once, perhaps an hour or
two after they have been engaged.
After this crew come the Company’s ‘recommended’ men, persons who
through the influence of some merchant obtain employment. With them
also arrive the ‘extra-permanent’ men; and these two classes always
have a preference when any work is going on. They are engaged by the
day and paid by the day; and each man on entering receives a numbered
ticket about the size of a railway ticket, which will entitle him to
receive his wages in rotation at the pay-box in the afternoon. The pay
for all alike is fivepence per hour; but the highest class of all,
the ‘permanent’ men, receive twenty shillings per week all the year
round, be the hours long or short, and are always certain of their
money whether the Company can find work for them or not. In the months
of November, December, January, and February, the work is from nine to
four, and the remainder of the year from eight to four, with extra pay
for overtime to all alike when any is to be made. Thus it will be seen
that with pretty constant employment a fair living is to be made at the
Docks; but in addition, many men make something extra in the evenings,
either as ‘supers’ at one of the theatres, chairmen at those convivial
meetings known as ‘Free-and-Easies,’ or in some other capacity. In
short, at the Docks, as elsewhere, it is only the idle and disreputable
class that starves; for the Company’s officials naturally select the
best men first, and only employ the ‘duffers’ when they cannot possibly
do without them.
At a few minutes before eight we are all at our posts; men are on board
ship commencing to roll out the bales of merchandise from the ‘hold;’
the ponderous hydraulic ‘ram’ swings out from the warehouse, and three
or four bales are hooked on and hoisted ashore. It is (we will say) a
large Australian wool ship; and as soon as the bales are landed, they
are pounced upon by a man with stencil-plate and brush, who with nimble
fingers marks the name of the ship on each. Then an individual with
stentorian lungs (probably a broken-down auctioneer) shouts out to the
check clerk at the table the mark on each particular bale, and this is
recorded in a book called a ‘tally-sheet.’ Next, a couple of muscular
men attack with axes the iron bands with which the bales are clamped,
and sever them, so that the wool expands to nearly double its size; for
it is all pressed by hydraulic machinery previous to being stowed in
the ship, in order to economise space. The bales thus released are now
trotted off by active truckmen to the scales, where they are weighed,
marked, and sorted in different piles according to their mark. All this
is done in less time than it takes to read about it, amid a storm of
shouts, execrations, commands, and other noises in every conceivable
variety.
Let us take a walk round the Docks and warehouses and inspect the vast
piles of merchandise lying about in every direction. Yonder is a ship
discharging brandy, with a vigilant Custom-house officer watching
every cask as it comes ashore. In another place they are emptying
on the floor hogshead after hogshead of coffee, to be weighed for
duty. That sedate-looking man with a needle in his hand sewing up
rice-bags has been a schoolmaster, and can write excellent hexameters.
A little farther on, a solicitor, unfortunately struck off the rolls,
is wheeling a truck; and farther on a once prosperous merchant is
assisting to push along a hogshead of sugar. The conclusion one arrives
at, after making the round of the Docks, is, that nearly everything we
eat and drink is manipulated first by the dirty classes, who shovel
our necessaries about at their pleasure, and tread over them as if
they were so much dirt. See those dingy men with garments tattered
and patched stooping and working on those sloppy floors. They are
scraping up the molasses which has filtered out from the sugar-casks,
and putting it into tubs. This will be all sent away to the
sugar-boilers’, and converted into cheap sugar, and go to localities
where it will be bought by housekeepers who study economy in the
kitchen. This sort of sugar always has a lumpy clear appearance, with
a slight clammy taste in the mouth, and can be detected with a little
practice at a glance. It is usually sold alone, but is often mixed with
better sugar, in order to make that half-penny difference in the pound
so tempting to certain housewives.
We are warned that it is noon by the tinkling of a bell, which resounds
all over the Dock; and at the first stroke everything is dropped out
of hand immediately, and to the cry of ‘Bell ho!’ every one rushes out
of the warehouses for dinner. A few of the more provident have brought
some in their pockets; but the majority go straight to the old man or
old woman who is permitted by the Company to supply them with bread,
cheese, beer, soup, and pudding, all of an indifferent sort; and if
they have any money, buy something to eat; and if they have none, try
and borrow a penny or two from somebody else; or cajole the refreshment
caterer into giving them credit until four o’clock. Very few of them
have knives wherewith to cut their food decently; they gnaw it anyhow;
in fact their chief rule seems to be to buy nothing that they are not
absolutely compelled to buy, for fear the vendor should cheat them;
and if some of them could observe this rule so far as the beer-shop
is concerned, they would make their fortunes, many of them possessing
talents, as experts in ‘tasting,’ of no common order.
Their meal finished, some now creep on board ship to smoke, a thing
they are not allowed to do in the warehouses; others of a larcenous
disposition, prowl about the cook’s galley to appropriate anything
they can, such as meat, knives, brushes, in short any small portable
articles, which they either devour, or else sell at any price to
somebody else. At twenty minutes past twelve the bell again summons
them to work, and each man crawls slowly back to his post, the
majority of cheeks indicating apparently the existence of gum-boil to
the uninitiated, but which abnormal appearance is due solely to the
companionable ‘quid’ of tobacco.
By this time a number of vans are in the yard waiting to take away
goods, and the foremen are pretty nearly sure to want some extra hands
to assist. Consequently out they go to the gates, and select as many
as they require from the forest of palms held up before them. In this
way work goes on until a few minutes before four, when all parties
knock off, unless the ship should have to work an hour or two longer.
At the pay-box the men arrange themselves in numerical order, and are
paid with great celerity by the cashier, the exact amount due to each
man being handed to him as he passes the window. At the exit gate are
stationed two of the Company’s constables, who search any one they have
cause to suspect, for in spite of the utmost vigilance and the aid of
a large staff of police, pilfering is constantly going on within the
Docks, and it requires great watchfulness to prevent the men taking
anything out. As it is, things are occasionally smuggled out, though,
when an offender is convicted, he usually meets with a severe penalty.
The London and St Katherine’s Docks (now amalgamated under one
Company) cover an area of about forty-five acres, and have nearly
as much warehouse accommodation as all the other Dock companies
put together. The capital embarked in them, inclusive of loans and
debentures, may be stated at about eight millions sterling, and the
employés of all classes about three thousand daily. The annual imports
into these Docks are seldom less than seventy millions, the exports
being also considerable. With all this enormous trade and this vast
amount of business, things are managed with great, though of course not
perfect accuracy; every man knows his place, and there are seldom any
mistakes but such as will occur at times from unavoidable hurry and
confusion.