de muscles in steel, de punch
behind it! [_As he says this he pounds with his fist against the steel
bunks. All the men, roused to a pitch of frenzied self-glorification by
his speech, do likewise. There is a deafening metallic roar, through
which Yank's voice can be heard bellowing._] Slaves, hell! We run de
whole woiks. All de rich guys dat tink dey're somep'n, dey ain't
nothin'! Dey don't belong. But us guys, we're in de move, we're at de
bottom, de whole ting is us! [_Paddy from the start of Yank's speech
has been taking one gulp after another from his bottle, at first
frightenedly, as if he were afraid to listen, then desperately, as if
to drown his senses, but finally has achieved complete indifferent,
even amused, drunkenness. Yank sees his lips moving. He quells the
uproar with a shout._] Hey, youse guys, take it easy! Wait a moment! De
nutty Harp is sayin' someth'n.

PADDY--[_Is heard now--throws his head back with a mocking burst of
laughter._] Ho-ho-ho-ho-ho---

YANK--[_Drawing back his fist, with a snarl._] Aw! Look out who yuh're
givin' the bark!

PADDY--[_Begins to sing the "Muler of Dee" with enormous good-nature._]

"I care for nobody, no, not I,
And nobody cares for me."

YANK--[_Good-natured himself in a flash, interrupts PADDY with a slap
on the bare back like a report._] Dat's de stuff! Now yuh're gettin'
wise to somep'n. Care for nobody, dat's de dope! To hell wit 'em all!
And nix on nobody else carin'. I kin care for myself, get me! [_Eight
bells sound, muffled, vibrating through the steel walls as if some
enormous brazen gong were imbedded in the heart of the ship. All the
men jump up mechanically, fie through the door silently close upon each
other's heels in what is very like a prisoners lockstep. YANK slaps
PADDY on the back._] Our watch, yuh old Harp! [_Mockingly._] Come on
down in hell. Eat up de coal dust. Drink in de heat. It's it, see! Act
like yuh liked it, yuh better--or croak yuhself.

PADDY--[_With jovial defiance._] To the divil wid it! I'll not report
this watch. Let thim log me and be damned. I'm no slave the like of
you. I'll be sittin' here at me ease, and drinking, and thinking, and
dreaming dreams.

YANK--[_Contemptuously._] Tinkin' and dreamin', what'll that get yuh?
What's tinkin' got to do wit it? We move, don't we? Speed, ain't it?
Fog, dat's all you stand for. But we drive trou dat, don't we? We split
dat up and smash trou--twenty-five knots a hour! [_Turn