CHAPTER XXI
[LOADING SUGAR]
Loading a deep water ship with sugar in the port of Honolulu during the golden summer days of the young Republic was a lively business.
"Hi there! On the dock! Bear a hand with that sugar! Shake it up now! Shake it up! Do you think we have a year to load this ship? By ——! I'll shake you up! Yes, me! You lazy black ——!"
"Pau! Pau! Kaliopoulie! kaue Ki! Ki! O —— ooo maloue baue Pau. Likee Pau ——! Pau! pau! pau! Oh—ee hakau! pau! pau!" or words to that effect, according to the phonetic rendering. A violent protest of many tongues, bristling with exclamation points, and heated Kanaka epithets, rose from the indignant dock gang. Glances of the utmost withering scorn were shot up out of the hold at the mate standing abreast of the main hatch, and all over the dock shirts were being slipped back onto the silky brown backs, stripped in readiness for the work to start, The uproar of indignation was spontaneous, and on the outskirts of the racket the stocky Japanese coolies from the sugar plantation gangs, and from the railroad gang, stood around in sullen enjoyment of the situation. Aboard ship we of the crew were circumspect, but our appreciation of the situation was keen.
"What's this?" A smart looking chap in a suit of khaki, and wearing a panama hat, stepped out of the office on the dock. He was sun browned and efficient; springy in his movements, a natural commander of men.
"Pau —— —— ——!" cried a dark skinned perspiring stevy, pointing at the mate, and sending forth another shower of island rhetoric. The gang foreman of the shore crowd was explaining, brown face shining and eyes flashing black and white.
"All right! I'll see about it." The railroad superintendent climbed aboard and took Mr. Zerk aft, out of earshot, where they got things settled. Then the superintendent went back on the dock, the gang foreman got an earful of second hand apologies, explanations and promises. Important details of same were passed on to independent Kanaka citizens by their boss, and the steam winch started as the shirts again were slipped off of the silky brown backs of the workers. We are off. The first sling of sugar bags shot over the bulwark and landed on the platform abreast the hatch and four Kanakas started sending it down the chutes like lightning. Bing! Another sling dripped on the platform, and down it went. The action became automatic, the brown bodies swayed rapidly, surely, and on the wharf we heard them shouting as the Jap coolies inched along another car with their crow bars. I was stationed at a point where two chutes met at an angle, and the yellow bags passed me in rapid succession, slapping the chute with a smart patter as they jumped the corner. Soon the whole thing became a matter of easy routine. This was living! What an easy job! The dusky gang below, working in the half light of the hold, and assisted by the crew, were placing a bottom layer of sugar bags and forward stacking and stepping back the tiers, "boulking" it, as sailors say, for the ends of the hold to be kept clear.