n 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 somewhere overhead 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 this last all the
men, who have followed his movements of getting into position, throw
open their furnace doors with a deafening clang. The fiery light floods
over their shoulders as they bend round for the 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 of battle._]
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!