He became a stowaway until the next watch was changed in the fire-room. Then he mingled with the crowd of sooty men who went off duty. Unmolested, he clambered up the ladders, slipped into an alley-way, and came to the promenade deck with the blessed open sky above him. Ostentatiously swinging a wrench, he ambled aft and reconnoitred the entrance to the first-cabin quarters. Men were dragging out lines of hose, others chopping away charred woodwork and pitching it overboard. One of them paused to look at the large grimy person in overalls, but he displayed the wrench and casually explained: “Orders from the engine-room. The heat warped the skylight fittings. Hot work, wasn’t it?” Once inside the doorway, Johnny Kent made for his state-room, which had been untouched by fire. O’Shea saw him pass, but made no sign of recognition. A few minutes later the comrades twain were holding a glad reunion behind the bolted door. The engineer collapsed on the transom berth and sat in a ponderous heap, holding his head in his hands. “My legs are trembly and I feel all gone in the pit of my stummick, Cap’n Mike,” he huskily croaked. “I was plumb near scared to death. This easy livin’ has made me soft, and I ain’t as young as I was. But I got away with it.” “How? ’Tis a miracle ye have performed this night, Johnny, me boy.” “I let in the water and she’ll flood herself,” was the weary reply. “It was easy after I once ran the blockade. What about your bonfire? She was a corker by the looks of things.” “She was that,” laughed O’Shea. “Vonderholtz came boilin’ in with his men and put it out after a tussle. He suspected we touched it off, but he could not prove it. It was the stump of a cigar that some careless gentleman tossed into the library waste-basket, ye understand. Let me help you get your clothes off. Lie down and rest yourself.” Kicking off the overalls, Johnny Kent lighted his pipe, stretched himself in his bunk, and exclaimed: “I’ll turn in with my duds on. We are liable to be roused out between now and morning.” “Are ye sure the ship will not go to the bottom?” anxiously asked O’Shea. “I won’t swear to it, Cap’n Mike, but this is a well-built steamer, and she was new a year ago. Her bulkheads will stand up under a lot of pressure. The engine and fire room compartments will fill to the water-line, but she’ll float, or I’ve made a darn bad blunder.” “You know your business, Johnny. If the blackguards think she is sinking under them, ’tis all we ask.” “Tuck me in and wash my face,” murmured the engineer. “I’m too doggoned tired to worry about it.”