THE DEVIL'S BARGES.

Dominion, Volume 1, Issue 51, 23 November 1907, Page 14

THE DEVIL'S BARGES.

(From the "Pall Mall Gazette.")

He is just a poor coolie, sitting on the edge of the canal; up by the coal wharves at Port Said. Just opposite him, in tho canal, a passenger boat, is making ready to start, and with many a clank of tho wheozing little donkey' engine in tho bows, the anchor is being pulled up. PJop, plop, the big bits of brown mud fall away from the rusty anchor as it is dragged into position, and,with a final toot on tho whistle, tho boat is off on its long journey to sunny lands. A little group of peoplo has gathered in the bows, and a man takes off his big sun hat and waves at someono on shore.

The coolie sits staring out at the salt lako that glares with a fierce white light in the distance, wiping away the coal dust from his face witli the ragged end of his dirty turban, ibat boat that has. just started has been she means of his earning a few penco to buy lire for the evening meal. For an hour or more ho has been scanding knee-deep in coal dust with a shovel, raking up the coal in bigshovelfuls and dumping it down into the wicker baskets to be carried up to the sides of the ship and poured into the bunkers that gapo for food.

U'his lifo in the barges is what he has always been accustomed to, and what ho does new ho will do for, many a year if his health will stand the heat and dust ■ that finds - its way to every crevice of his poor weak lungs. To-night he has been told to come down early to the wharves, for a big liner is on its way to, India, and she will need.a good feed after her long tramp across the blue waters of the Mediterranean. This wil bo a big job—not liko coaling the little passenger boat that already is a. speck in the distance down the slato-cploured waters of the canal. To-night there will be real hard work to be done, with the chance of getting a few extra coppers that some interested, passenger may throw down, into tho barge when it is emptied of coal.

lho. flies buzz round, and with a muttered oath thp man stands up and stretches his long thin arms above his head. ' Behind him, the one long street of Port Said stretches away into the heat and dust of the town. Donkeys, driven by brown-skinned. donkey boys, clatter over the cobbles, and tho old' tram clanks backwards and forwards down tho street. Outsido the shops-'stand the proprietors, shouting the oxcellonco of tlioir wares, and a band-of-young, men pass down .1 side alley accompanied by a guide with his red fez rind white clothes. From a hotel further down the road comes.a small band, playing a once popular tune at tho "Halls," and, irom the windows of a gambling hell, the. croupiers' cry of. "Rien no va plus" sounds from time to time. Port Said is for ever awake.. Port Said cannot sleep—its people will not allow it, The very houses stare out into the sunlight with sleepless eyes, and days of vice and sin follow hard on one another's heels. Outsido the harbour, beyond the entrance to the canal, the sea rolls in calmly, as if to cleanso the dirty beach, but its blue waters are tinged with scum and filth as they draw back. The tide neither advances nor recedes, and thus a rim of dirt for ever encircles this ulcer of the East.

The coolie stands for a few moments'in the full rrbiro of the midday-sun. There is nothing for him to do now, so,- squatting down on his haunches, he pulls his little tin box from tho folds of his turban, and .proceeds to smear a green leaf with the fed betel ho-'eats, the' blood-like juice rims.from the :Cbrnor;of his mouth and his teeth.-Wiping his mouth with-tho back of a dirty hand, ho closes-.the box with a snap, and settles down to sleep-against.a heap of coal. The band at the calc up tho street is,playing.a new tune now, tho croupier drones wearily on, "Faites ■vosjeux,. messieurs—fates vos jeiix," and a fly. settles on the sweating face of the coolie as ho sloops. , . . Out in tho Mediterranean a liner thumps its way through the blue waters. The very heat of the ongines seems hurried. They want food, lho coolie turns on .his side and brushes away tho fly. A piece of coal falls with a little click into tho empty lighter, bumping and scraping against tho side of the'wharf. Dust overy where. Dust and lioise. ' Tho devils: are at work in the barges. In an endless stream the'men pour up the s oping planks, glistening like diamonds in the light of tho electric lamps hung from the sides of tho iner. Men, women, and children hury '.with the wicker, baskets on their heacls to and fro, and, tilting tho contents into tho coal shoots, jump down into the rapidlyemptymg barge in a cloud of coal dust Tho men at the bottom of tho barges, their stark naked bodies shining with sweat, shovel tho coal with feverish haste, shouting and singing to one another In the bows and stern of tho boat two braziers of coal are burning Ihe smoke from them curls about, and, for a moment a tired coolie stands'in the red glare from the burning coal, and tho next moment he is .running up tho plank.with a new basket on his-head. Three hours of sweat. Ihreo hours of dust. Little by little tho cries of tho men die down. Ono by one tho shovels are thrown into tlio barge. The water all round has tho look of solid earth—so covered is it with tho dust that still falls from tho open coal bunkers.

As the first barge floats away from its moorings a beautifully dressed youth puts his head through the canvas awning on deck and gazes for a moment on the scene. "Hore, catch this ,yon filthy brutes," ho drawls to.a little group of men gathered.together m the stern of the barge, ns ho throws a pieco of silver out into the night. • The coal braziors, liko rod eyes, wink and hnaily dose altogether, as a turn in the canal hides.thorn, from. view. In the smoking-room of. the comfortable liner- tho beautiful youth sits smoking a cigarette—a whisky and soda by his side. What of the coolie? Oh, he is dead drunk by now asleep on tho wharf with-some of his comrades. A broken brandy bottle lies by his sido. .