Was that frightful shock and crash of the Cydnus one of these dreams? That rushing of water, those cries of frightened women,—was all that a dream? His comrades called him, shook him. “Jack, Jack!” they cried; he staggered out, half naked. The engine-room was already half under water, the compass broken, the fires extinguished. The men ran against each other in the darkness. “What is it?” they cried. An American ship had run them down. The men struggled up the narrow ladder; at the head stood the chief engineer with a revolver in his hand. “The first man that attempts to pass me I will shoot! Go to your furnaces! Land is not far off; we shall reach it yet if my orders are obeyed.” Each one turned, with rage and despair in his heart. They charged the furnaces with wet coal, and volumes of gas and smoke poured out; while the water still ascending, in spite of the constant work at the pumps, was as cold as ice. The pumps refuse to work, the furnaces will not burn. The stokers are in water up to their shoulders before the voice of the chief engineer is heard: “Save yourselves, my men, if you can!” CHAPTER XVIII. D’ARGENTON’S MAGAZINE. In a narrow street, quiet and orderly, in one of those houses belonging to the last century, D’Argenton had established himself as editor of the new magazine; while Jack, our friend Jack, was its proprietor. Do not smile: this was really the case; his money had been used to establish it. Charlotte had some little scruple at first in so employing these funds, which she wished to preserve intact for the boy on his attaining his majority; but she yielded to the poet’s persuasions. “Come, my dear, listen! Figures are figures, you know. Can there be a better investment than this Review? It is far safer than any railroad, at least. Have I not placed my own funds in it?” Within six months D’Argenton had sacrificed thirty thousand francs, and the receipts had been nothing, while the expenses were enormous. Besides the offices of the magazine, D’Argenton had hired in the same house a large apartment, from which he had a superb view. The city, the Seine, Nôtre Dame, numberless spires and domes, were all spread before his eyes. He saw the carriages pass over the bridges, and the boats glide through the arches. “Here I can live and breathe,” he said to himself. “It was impossible for me to accomplish anything in that dull little hole of Aulnettes! How could one work in such a lethargic atmosphere?”