Jack thought often of the old doctor and of Cécile, and on the first of January each year had written them a long letter. But the two last had remained unanswered. One thought alone sustained Jack in his sad life: his mother might need him, and he must work hard for her sake. Unfortunately wages are in proportion to the value of the work, and not to the ambition of the workman, and Jack had no talent in the direction of his career. He was seventeen, his apprenticeship over, and yet he received but three francs per day. With these three francs he must pay for his room, his food, and his dress; that is, he must replace his coarse clothing as it was worn out; and what should he do if his mother were to write and say, “I am coming to live with you “? “Look here,” said Père Rondic, “your parents made a great mistake in not listening to me. You have no business here; now how would you like to make a voyage? The chief engineer of the ‘Cydnus’ wants an assistant. You can have six francs per day, be fed, lodged, and warmed. Shall I write and say you will like the situation?” The idea of the double pay, the love of travel that Mâdou’s wild tales had awakened in his childish nature, combined to render Jack highly pleased at the proposed change. He left Indret one July morning, just four years after his arrival. What a superb day it was! The air became more fresh as the little steamer he was on approached the ocean. Jack had never seen the sea. The fresh salt breeze inspired him with restless longing. Saint Nazarre lay before him,—the harbor crowded with shipping. They landed at the dock, and there learned that the Cydnus, of the _Compagnie Transatlantique_, would sail at three o’clock that day, and was already lying outside,—this being, in fact, the only way to have the crew all on board at the moment of departure. Jack and his companion—for Father Rondic had insisted on seeing him on board his ship—had no time to see anything of the town, which had all the vivacity of a market-day. The wharf was piled with vegetables, with baskets of fruit, and with fowls which, tied together, were wildly struggling for liberty. Near their merchandise stood the Breton peasants waiting quietly for purchasers. They were in no hurry, and made no appeal to the passers-by. In contrast to these, there was a number of small peddlers, selling pins, cravats, and portemonnaies, who were loudly crying their wares. Sailors were hurrying to and fro, and Rondic learned from one of them that the chief engineer of the Cydnus was in a very bad humor because he had not his full number of stokers on board.