Mexico Missouri message., 1915-07-22
I'M THE ENGINE ROOM
Place of Stress When BattIeship
Is in Action.
Fighting Strain Becomes Of an Inten-
sity Hard 90 lmagine-DeadIy
Torpedo the Weapon That
Is Most Feared.

Let us, as a matter of interest, i'm
agine that we are in the engine room
OF a modern dreadnaught in action.
On each side of us, unobtrusively
slowed away in their mahogany, brass
bound cases, are the great turbines.
Their humming-though we cannot
see them-fills the vast space with the
sound as of a million bees let loose.
Near each one hovers a grimy stoker,
oil can in hand, and his duty it is to
see that these monster humming tops
do not lack for fabrication.
Right in front, on the foremost bulk
head of the engine room, are the
telegraph dials and the telephones,
each of which is in connection with
the bridge, and under the direct con-
troll of the captain. These are the
things which tell us how the fight is
going, for the keen engineer can read
signs and portents in the changes
which are rung upon the telegraph
dials.
A tremendous thing is the fighting
strain. 1t is bad even up in the great
turrets where men play their parts in
the grim drama, and hurl death and
destruction at the foe, but down here.
where one does nothing but wait for
orders, It is terrible.
The only man who does not seem to
feel the strain is the one who has APP
parently the least to do, and that is
10 t., A.
ing mental arithmetic. He knows how
many revolutions his screws are do
ing per minute, and he realizes that
as yet she has still a little bit of
speed up her sleeve.
By and by that last half knot may
how much speed he will be able to
present the captain with when that
final effort is asked for. No one knows
but he, and he won't tell
There seems to be a kind of waiting
expression on most of the faces, and
If they could tell you what they we're
all waiting for it would surprise you.
Shut up as they are in a small steel
boxful of machinery, they are not
thinking of the chance of an enemy's
projectile coming through and killing
them, nor are they waiting for death
to come to them in some other man.
ner. What they are dreading is that
something should go wrong with their
beloved engines - something that
would prevent their doing their bit"
in this fight.
They are listening-ever listening
for the hiss Of escaping steam which
will tell them of a main steam pipe
hit and carried away; Tor the shot
that might smash one of the boilers
into small pieces; for the rattle of the
steering engine as the rudder is blown
away, and the ship hangs. without a
guide, in the balance.
And then, with a sickening sidelong
twist and a rattle of the steering en-
CINE, the floor of the engine room
takes on a cickening slant The ship
has made a sudden and acute turn.
The engineers face turns from
CHEEKY optimistic red to fear-strickan
sallow green.
MY Cod" he mutters. "Subma-
rines!"
Every man in that engine room and
every stoker in the stokeholds knows
what that sudden and horrible twist
means. 1t means that the ship has
commenced a quadrille with death;
that underwater craft are seeking to
end her life and the fight at the same
| time
The strained look has gone now
Everyone is eager and anxious to do
but enc thing. and that is to obey
! the orders which come down from
the bridge as fast as they possibly
can be obeyed The bridge is having
an anxious time, but the men in the
depths trust it and reckon it is up to
dealing with the biggest fotilla of sub
marines that the enemy owns, any
day.
Then. while the ship is running all
she knows, the unexpected happens
With a louder and more sudden roar
than ever the steering engine rattles
over to hard port At precisely the
same second the telegraph rings Full
astern, starboard engine. Full ahead
port" The ship takes horrible heel
as the rudders-two Of them-grip
her; the port screw slows down per
ceptibly as it feels the mighty column
of water DETECTED from the rudder,
and the starboard one huns along
smoothly as 1t feel the reversed tur'
bine's thrust.
And even as they spin round the
men can hear the guns putting in good
work and blazing away for all they are
worth. Ten minutes later the enemy's
tieet-or what is left of them--are
steaming for harbor again as fast as
they can go.
Imagine yourself shut up in chat
teTing, humming steel box, with the
odds on being killed, either by she'll,
or torpedo explosion, or drowning, or
scalding to Heath, and with Death
himself throwing all sorts of missiles