different. A gang of coolies (generally Dangurs) were put into the
vats, having long sticks with a disc at the end, with which, standing
in two rows, they threw up the liquor into the air. The quantity forced
up by the one coolie encounters in mid air that sent up by the man
standing immediately opposite to him, and the two jets meeting and
mixing confusedly together, tumble down in broken frothy masses into
the vat. Beginning with a slow steady stroke the coolies gradually
increase the pace, shouting out a hoarse wild song at intervals; till,
what with the swish and splash of the falling water, the measured beat
of the _furrovahs_ or beating rods, and the yells and cries with which
they excite each other, the noise is almost deafening. The water, which
at first is of a yellowish green, is now beginning to assume an intense
blue tint; this is the result of the oxygenation going on. As the blue
deepens, the exertions of the coolie increase, till with every muscle
straining, head thrown back, chest expanded, his long black hair
dripping with white foam, and his bronzed naked body glistening with
blue liquor, he yells and shouts and twists and contorts his body till
he looks like a true 'blue devil.' To see eight or ten vats full of
yelling howling blue creatures, the water splashing high in mid air,
the foam flecking the walls, and the measured beat of the _furrovahs_
rising weird-like into the morning air, is almost enough to shake the
nerve of a stranger, but it is music in the planter's ear, and he can
scarce refrain from yelling out in sympathy with his coolies, and
sharing in their frantic excitement. Indeed it is often necessary to
encourage them if a vat proves obstinate, and the colour refuses to
come--an event which occasionally does happen. It is very hard work
beating, and when this constant violent exercise is kept up for about
three hours (which is the time generally taken), the coolies are pretty
well exhausted, and require a rest.