They did not think it brave: They even dared to joke! I saw them light their pipes And puff calm rings of smoke! I saw a Passer sprawl Over his load of coal-- At which a Fireman laughed Until it shook his soul: _All this in a hollow shell Whose half-submerged form On Lake Superior tossed 'Mid rushing hills of storm!_ FROM THE SAILORS' CATECHISM Six days shalt thou labor and do all thou art able, The seventh, holystone the deck and scrub the cable. Stokers[A] [A] By permission of the Macmillan Co. (_From "The Harbor"_) BY ERNEST POOLE (American playwright and novelist, born 1880) We crawled down a short ladder and through low passageways, dripping wet, and so came into the stokehole. This was a long narrow chamber with a row of glowing furnace doors. Wet coal and coal-dust lay on the floor. At either end a small steel door opened into bunkers that ran along the sides of the ship, deep down near the bottom, containing thousands of tons of soft coal. In the stokehole the fires were not yet up, but by the time the ship was at sea the furnace mouths would be white hot and the men at work half naked. They not only shovelled coal into the flames, they had to spread it as well, and at intervals rake out the "clinkers" in fiery masses on the floor. On these a stream of water played, filling the chamber with clouds of steam. In older ships, like this one, a "lead stoker" stood at the head of the line and set the pace for the others to follow. He was paid more to keep up the pace. But on the big new liners this pacer was replaced by a gong. "And at each stroke of the gong you shovel," said Joe. "You do this till you forget your name. Every time the boat pitches the floor heaves you forward, the fire spurts at you out of the doors, and the gong keeps on like a sledge-hammer coming down on top of your mind. And all you think of is your bunk and the time when you're to tumble in." From the stokers' quarters presently there came a burst of singing. "Now let's go back," he ended, "and see how they're getting ready for this." As we crawled back, the noise increased, and swelled to a roar as we entered. The place was pandemonium. Those groups I had noticed around the bags had been getting out the liquor, and now at eight o'clock in the morning half the crew were already well soused. Some moved restlessly about. One huge bull of a creature with limpid shining eyes stopped suddenly with a puzzled stare, and then leaned back on a bunk and laughed uproariously. From there he lurched over the shoulder of a thin, wiry, sober man who, sitting on the edge of a bunk, was slowly spelling out the words of a newspaper aeroplane story. The big man laughed again and spit, and the thin man jumped half up and snarled.