The Great Lakes: The Vessels That Plough Them: Their Owners, Their Sailors, and Their Cargoes, Together with a Brief History of Our Inland SeasCurwood, James Oliver
History
The Great Lakes: The Vessels That Plough Them: Their Owners, Their Sailors, and Their Cargoes, Together with a Brief History of Our Inland Seas
Curwood, James Oliver
Great Lakes (North America); Inland navigation -- United States; Shipping -- Great Lakes (North America)
The other guests had arrived, seven in all--four ladies and three
gentlemen, and we met on the red and black dock, with mountains of ore
and coal about us, with the thundering din of working machines in our
ears, and out there before us, enshrouded in smoke and black dust,
the great ship that was to carry us for nearly a thousand miles up the
Lakes and back again. It was a happy moment, I say, for I met the seven
guests in this wilderness of din and dirt--_and six of them had never
been aboard a freighter in their lives_. They had heard, of course,
what lay beyond those red steel walls. But was there not a mistake
here? Was it possible----
Doubt filled their faces. High above them towered the straight wall
of the ship with a narrow ladder reaching down to them. At the huge
coal derricks whole cars of coal were being lifted up as if they
were no more than scuttles in the hands of a strong man and their
contents sent thundering into the gaping hatches; black dust clouded
the air, settling in a thousand minute particles on fabric and flesh;
black-faced men shouted and worked at the loading machine; the crash
of shunting cars came interminably from the yards; and upon it all
the sun beat fiercely, and the air that entered our nostrils seemed
thick--thick with the dust and grime and heat of it all. A black-faced,
sweating man, who was the mate, leaned over the steel side high above
us and motioned us aft, and the seven guests hurried through the
thickness of the air, the ladies shuddering and cringing as the cars
of coal thundered high over their heads, until they came to the big
after port with a plank laid to the dock. Up this they filed, their
faces betraying more doubt, more uneasiness, more discomfort as hot
blasts of furnace air surged against them; then up a narrow iron stair,
through a door--and out there before them lay the ship, her thirty
hatches yawning like caverns, and everywhere coal--and coal dust. The
ladies gasped and drew their dresses tightly about them as they were
guided along the narrow promenade between the edge of the ship and the
open hatches, and at last they were halted before one of those doors
labelled “Owners.”
Then the change! It came so suddenly that it fairly took the breath
away from those who had never been on a freighter before. The guests
filed through that narrow door into a great room, which a second glance
showed them to be a parlour. Their feet sank in the noiseless depths
of rich velvet carpet; into their heated faces came the refreshing
breaths of electric fans; great upholstered chairs opened to them
welcomingly; the lustre of mahogany met their eyes, and magazines and
books and papers were ready for them in profusion. To us there now
came the thunder of the coal as if from afar; here was restfulness and
quiet--through the windows we could see the dust and smoke and heat
hovering about the ship like a pall.
Public-domain text, read in full here on John Shaqi.
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