The winter wind that whips Belfast Lough forces the men who work in the Titanic Quarter to keep their heads down as they move from their site offices onto the moonscape where the giant earth diggers bulldoze piles of brick, soil, and glass--the detritus of former glories. One hundred years ago, as that same wind blew up the Lough, men stood under the shadow of the vast walls of the dry dock, looking up at ships so large they seemed to belong to some other world. It was here that the great White Star liners were built, ships with names like Olympic, Gigantic, and Titanic. Everything was on a grand scale. Belfast, which emerged from swamp in the second half of the nineteenth century, turned into one of the engines of the industrial revolution: here, the largest shipyard in the world, there, the largest rope works. When the evening sun settled, its light fell upon the red brickwork of the new engineering buildings and the tea- and tobacco-processing factories to convince the citizens that the dark, satanic mills were creating a New Jerusalem.