I must confess to an envy of those brawny fellows who were learning to drive rivets. And after the army pay of $30 or so a month it must seem good to get $20 a week while learning the job.
Hog Island is a poem, a vast bracing chant of manly achievement in every respect, that is, save the names of the ships they are building down there. I don't think Hog Island workmen will ever quite forgive Mrs. Wilson for the names she chose for their cherished and beautiful ships! Quistconck, Saccarappa, Sacandaga, Saguache, Sapinero, Sagaporack, Schoodic, Saugus, Schroon—what will homely sailormen make of these odd Indian syllables? As one said to me, whimsically, "Think of some wireless operator, calling for help, trying to get that name across!"
We must assume, however, that no Hog Island ship will ever be in distress, from her own fault at any rate. The experiment of "fabricated" ships was watched with eagerness by all shipping experts some of whom didn't believe it could be successful. The first chapter of Hog Island's epic closes fitly with this cablegram, received the other day from the American International Shipbuilding Corporation's representative in Rome:
Rome, March 16.—Quistconck arrived March 8th, Savona. Excellent voyage. Has been inspected by representatives of government, steamship companies and banks. Opinion favorable. Hope you will be able to send more of that type.
