GOING ON DUTY: THE MARINE STOKER.

New Zealand Herald, Volume XLIX, Issue 14984, 4 May 1912, Page 1 (Supplement)

GOING ON DUTY: THE MARINE STOKER.

BY ARTHUR P. COWIE.

When" the 1 marine stoker goes 011 duty, he starts off under different conditions to those to be met with by the landsman ; the latter in very many cases has a wife who kisses him at the door of his cottage. Host probably the man of the land is provided with' a hot meal' and piping cup of tea, prepared by his devoted and loving helpmate.' He is further buoyed up with the bright prospect of being able to return to a cheerful home at the Hose of the day, when a. loving wife and- children welcome his return. How different the circumstances under which the marine stoker goes to work. Should his watch be starting at midnight, he gets a call from the man who has just come off duty. The poor fellow crawls out of his bunk, his vessel so often being tossed about like some tormented thing. How. one is reminded of the following lines with reference to the "slaves in our book of Psalms, viz. : "They go up as high as the hills, and down to the valleys beneath." No bright wife is there to give him a hot supper, or to whisper that word of cheer which encourages a man in his duty. A dim light in the fo'c'slo helps to guide him to the place where he can find some cold tea, and some much-handled bread; the tea having the strength of a Sandow, as the result of long waiting. Within a short interval he is to bo on duty in the stokehold- When one looks down the engine-room of any large liner, let the vessel be berthed alongside the pier, and the day , calm, a thought —What must be -the danger .of the fireman and trimmer who go down those perpendicular iron ladders when the vessel is rolling in the trough of a heavy sea? The stoker, having finished his scanty meal, peers out of the cabin companion-way.. Coming from below, he has to wait awhile till his eyes become accustomed to the other surroundings. Then, a short distance away towards windward, comes a rolling mass of water, heralded by the i crash of its advancing foam. He ducks back only just in time to lhiss what would have proved a hasty trip to Eternity - by way of the ship's rail. Imagine his risk, as following close upon each other come a succession of rollers, each taking a short-cut across the vessel's decks. The darkness seems to be felt. No lights are showing except from the vessels mastheads,' mizr-en and fore, and the great sidelights, green on the starboard (right) and red on. the port (left). He makes up' his mind quickly; a duty in the stokehold is his to perform. A 'cascade of water has just poured off the, deck through rails and scuppers. The steamer is still heeling over to port, and away ho goes. As nimbly as a goat along a precipice passes this man of. the engine-room. Around his neck he wears his "sweat rag," the corners held in his teeth. The path along that deck which he has just vacated is now facing a huge wave. Crash!, crash f Thank God the waters had divided to let him through. The sleepers below turn in their bunks, as a result of the sound of that magnificent cannonade, then the water rushes to join the sea on the other side. He reaches the engineroom door, which is under the protection of a covering deck. From years of experience he slides down many flights of iron stairways, passing forests of machinery, till he gets to the fires. _ As his eyes meet those of his mates a silent message is read between them. " A bit wet up above. Bill.'' "Not 'alf," comes the quick retort. Soon in the depths of that great vessel's stokehold the latest songs picked up when last- in port, from some music hall artist, are being resung, and to the accompaniment of piston-rods racing and engines clanking, the stoker, with the glow from the great fires on his pale face, is cheering his mate and himself whilst helping their vessel to fight her way through the storm. Of such men is our nation proud. Imagine in time of shipwreck the lot of these men. cut) off from safety. The steam and fires which mean life to the huge vessel may mean death at any moment to the stokers' who go on duty in the dead of night or the blaze of noon.