his direction the coalmen set to work at their hoists and stages
and soon have the baskets swinging with loads from the open hatchways.
The coal thunders down the chutes to the waiting barges, and raises a
smother of choking dust. The language of South Italy rings out in the
din and clatter. "Veera, veera," roars the stageman (not knowing that he
is passing an ancient order on a British ship). It is a fine start.
Antonio and Pasquali and their mates are fresh: they curse and praise
one another alternately and impartially: they seem in a fair way to earn
their tonnage bonus by having the holds cleared before the morning.

It is almost like an engagement in arms. Good leadership is needed.
There are grades and classes in the army of dockers; groups as clearly
specialized in their work as the varied units that form an army corps.
Italian labourers handle the coal; coloured men are employed for the
heavy and rough cargo work; the Irish are set to fine stowage. There is
little infringement of the others' work. Artillery and infantry are not
more set apart in their special duties than the grades of the dockers.
Certainly there is a rivalry between the coloured men and the Irish--the
line that divides the cargo is perhaps lightly drawn. "Hey! You nigger!
You gitta hell out o' this," says Mike. The coloured man bides his time.
The thunder of the winches pauses for an instant--he shouts down the
hatchway: "Mike! Ho, Mike!" An answering bellow sounds from below. "Ah
say, Mike! When yo' gwine back hom' t' fight fo' King Gawge?"

Sunday morning, the 'macaroni' gangs knock off work for a term. The
holds are cleared, but our fuel has again to be hove up from the barges
and stowed in the bunkers. That can be done while loading is in
progress. Meantime--red-eyed and exhausted--the coalmen troop ashore and
leave the ship to one solitary hour of Sunday quiet. At seven the
turmoil of what the superintendent calls a 'fair start' begins.
Overnight a floating-tower barge for grain elevation has joined the
waiting list of our attendant lighters. She warps alongside and turns
her long-beaked delivery-pipes on board; yellow grain pours through and
spreads evenly over the floor-space of our gaping holds. Fore and aft we
break into a full measure of activity. The loading of the cargo is not
our only preparation for the voyage. The fittings of the 'tween-decks,
thrown about in disorder by the coal-gangs, have to be reconstructed and
the decks made