“We must hasten,” said Rondic; and they hailed a boat, and rapidly threaded their way through the harbor. The enormous transatlantic steamers lay at their wharves as if asleep; the decks of two large English ships just arrived from Calcutta were covered with sailors, all hard at work. They passed between these motionless masses, where the water was as dark as a canal running through the midst of a city under high walls; then they saw the Cydnus lying, with her steam on. A wiry little man, in his shirt-sleeves, with three stripes on his cap, hailed Jack and Rondic as their boat came alongside the steamer. His words were inaudible through the din and tumult, but his gestures were eloquent enough. This was Blanchet, the chief engineer. “You have come, then, have you?” he shouted. “I was afraid you meant to leave me in the lurch.” “It was my fault,” said Rondic; “I wished to accompany the lad, and I could not get away yesterday.” “On board with you, quick!” returned the engineer; “he must get into his place at once.” They descended first one ladder, then another, and another. Jack, who had never been on board a large steamer, was stupefied at the size and the depth of this one. They descended to an abyss where the eyes accustomed to the light of day could distinguish absolutely nothing. The heat was stifling, and a final ladder led to the engine-room, where the heavy atmosphere, charged with a smell of oil, was almost insupportable. Great activity reigned in this room; a general examination was being made of the machinery, which glittered with cleanliness. Jack looked on curiously at the enormous structure, knowing that it would soon be his duty to watch it day and night. At the end of the engine-room was a long passage. “That is where the coal is kept,” said the engineer, carelessly; “and on the other side the stokers sleep.” Jack shuddered. The dormitory at the academy, the garret-room at the Rondics, were palaces in comparison. The engineer pushed open a small door. Imagine a long cave, reddened by the reflection of a dozen furnaces in full blast; men, almost naked, were stirring the fire, the sweat pouring from their faces. “Here is your man,” said Blanchet to the head workman. “All right, sir,” said the other without turning round. “Farewell,” said Rondic. “Take care of yourself, my boy!” and he was gone. Jack was soon set to work; his task was to carry the cinders from the furnace to the deck, and there throw them into the sea. It was very hard work: the baskets were heavy, the ladders narrow, and the change from the pure air above to the stifling atmosphere below absolutely suffocating. On the third trip Jack felt his legs giving way under him. He found it impossible to even lift his basket, and sank into a corner half fainting. One of the stokers, seeing his condition, brought him a large flask of brandy. “Thank you; I never drink anything,” said Jack. The other laughed. “You will drink here,” he answered.