Scene III

The stokehole. In the rear, the dimly-outlined bulks of

the furnaces and boilers. High overhead one hanging electric bulb

sheds just enough light through the murky air laden with coal dust

to pile up masses of shadows everywhere. A line of men, stripped

to the waist, is before the furnace doors. They bend over, looking

neither to right nor left, handling their shovels as if they were

part of their bodies, with a strange, awkward, swinging rhythm.

They use the shovels to throw open the furnace doors. Then from

these fiery round holes in the black a flood of terrific light and

heat pours full upon the men who are outlined in silhouette in the

crouching, inhuman attitudes of chained gorillas. The men shovel

with a rhythmic motion, swinging as on a pivot from the coal which

lies in heaps on the floor behind to hurl it into the flaming

mouths before them. There is a tumult of noise—the brazen clang

of the furnace doors as they are flung open or slammed shut, the

grating, teeth-gritting grind of steel against steel, of crunching

coal. This clash of sounds stuns one's ears with its rending

dissonance. But there is order in it, rhythm, a mechanical

regulated recurrence, a tempo. And rising above all, making the

air hum with the quiver of liberated energy, the roar of leaping

flames in the furnaces, the monotonous throbbing beat of the

engines.

As the curtain rises, the furnace doors are shut. The men are

taking a breathing spell. One or two are arranging the coal behind

them, pulling it into more accessible heaps. The others can be

dimly made out leaning on their shovels in relaxed attitudes of

exhaustion.

PADDY:

—[From somewhere in the line—plaintively.]Yerra, will this

divil's own watch nivir end? Me back is broke. I'm destroyed

entirely.

YANK:

—[From the center of the line—with exuberant scorn.]Aw, yuh

make me sick! Lie down and croak, why don't yuh? Always beefin',

dat's you! Say, dis is a cinch! Dis was made for me! It's my meat,

get me![A whistle is blown—a thin, shrill note from somewhereoverhead in the darkness. Yank curses without resentment.]Dere's

de damn engineer crakin' de whip. He tinks we're loafin'. PADDY—

[Vindictively.] God stiffen him!

YANK:

—[In an exultant tone of command.]Come on, youse guys! Git

into de game! She's gittin' hungry! Pile some grub in her! Trow it

into her belly! Come on now, all of youse! Open her up![At thislast all the men, who have followed his movements of getting intoposition, throw open their furnace doors with a deafening clang.The fiery light floods over their shoulders as they bend round forthe coal. Rivulets of sooty sweat have traced maps on their backs.The enlarged muscles form bunches of high light and shadow.]

YANK:

—[Chanting a count as he shovels without seeming effort.]

One—two—tree—[His voice rising exultantly in the joy ofbattle.]Dat's de stuff! Let her have it! All togedder now! Sling

it into her! Let her ride! Shoot de piece now! Call de toin on

her! Drive her into it! Feel her move! Watch her smoke! Speed,

dat's her middle name! Give her coal, youse guys! Coal, dat's her

booze! Drink it up, baby! Let's see yuh sprint! Dig in and gain a

lap! Dere she go-o-es[This last in the chanting formula of thegallery gods at the six-day bike race. He slams his furnace doorshut. The others do likewise with as much unison as their weariedbodies will permit. The effect is of one fiery eye after anotherbeing blotted out with a series of accompanying bangs.]

PADDY:

—[Groaning.]Me back is broke. I'm bate out—bate—[Thereis a pause. Then the inexorable whistle sounds again from the dimregions above the electric light. There is a growl of cursing ragefrom all sides.]

YANK:

—[Shaking his fist upward—contemptuously.]Take it easy

dere, you! Who d'yuh tinks runnin' dis game, me or you? When I git

ready, we move. Not before! When I git ready, get me!

VOICES:

—[Approvingly.]That's the stuff!

Yank tal him, py golly!

Yank ain't affeerd.

Goot poy, Yank!

Give him hell!

Tell 'im 'e's a bloody swine!

Bloody slave-driver!

YANK:

—[Contemptuously.]He ain't got no noive. He's yellow, get

me? All de engineers is yellow. Dey got streaks a mile wide. Aw,

to hell wit him! Let's move, youse guys. We had a rest. Come on,

she needs it! Give her pep! It ain't for him. Him and his whistle,

dey don't belong. But we belong, see! We gotter feed de baby! Come

on![He turns and flings his furnace door open. They all followhis lead. At this instant the Second and Fourth Engineers enterfrom the darkness on the left with Mildred between them. Shestarts, turns paler, her pose is crumbling, she shivers withfright in spite of the blazing heat, but forces herself to leavethe Engineers and take a few steps nearer the men. She is rightbehind Yank. All this happens quickly while the men have theirbacks turned.]

YANK:

—Come on, youse guys![He is turning to get coal when thewhistle sounds again in a peremptory, irritating note. This drivesYank into a sudden fury. While the other men have turned fullaround and stopped dumfounded by the spectacle of Mildred standingthere in her white dress, Yank does not turn far enough to seeher. Besides, his head is thrown back, he blinks upward throughthe murk trying to find the owner of the whistle, he brandisheshis shovel murderously over his head in one hand, pounding on hischest, gorilla-like, with the other, shouting:]Toin off dat

whistle! Come down outa dere, yuh yellow, brass-buttoned, Belfast

bum, yuh! Come down and I'll knock yer brains out! Yuh lousey,

stinkin', yellow mut of a Catholic-moiderin' bastard! Come down

and I'll moider yuh! Pullin' dat whistle on me, huh? I'll show

yuh! I'll crash yer skull in! I'll drive yer teet' down yer troat!

I'll slam yer nose trou de back of yer head! I'll cut yer guts out

for a nickel, yuh lousey boob, yuh dirty, crummy, muck-eatin' son

of a—

[Suddenly he becomes conscious of all the other men staring atsomething directly behind his back. He whirls defensively with asnarling, murderous growl, crouching to spring, his lips drawnback o'ver his teeth, his small eyes gleaming ferociously. He seesMildred, like a white apparition in the full light from the openfurnace doors. He glares into her eyes, turned to stone. As forher, during his speech she has listened, paralyzed with horror,terror, her whole personality crushed, beaten in, collapsed, bythe terrific impact of this unknown, abysmal brutality, naked andshameless. As she looks at his gorilla face, as his eyes bore intohers, she utters a low, choking cry and shrinks away from him,putting both hands up before her eyes to shut out the sight of hisface, to protect her own. This startles Yank to a reaction. Hismouth falls open, his eyes grow bewildered.]

MILDRED:

—[About to faint—to the Engineers, who now have her oneby each arm—whimperingly.]Take me away! Oh, the filthy beast!

[She faints. They carry her quickly back, disappearing in thedarkness at the left, rear. An iron door clangs shut. Rage andbewildered fury rush back on Yank. He feels himself insulted insome unknown fashion in the very heart of his pride. He roars:]

God damn yuh![And hurls his shovel after them at the door whichhas just closed. It hits the steel bulkhead with a clang and fallsclattering on the steel floor. From overhead the whistle soundsagain in a long, angry, insistent command.]

[Curtain]