Courtenay, who had left instructions that he was to be called when the Evangelistas light was sighted, was sound asleep. In the elevated quarters assigned to the captain, the noise of the explosion differed little from the thunderous blows of the sea. But the stopping of the engines awoke him instantly. He felt the ship lurch away from her course, and saw the quick swerve of the compass indicator over his head. As he ran down the gangway leading from the bridge he heard the officer of the watch say: “Something given way in the engine-room, sir.” Several minutes elapsed before he, or Walker, aided by willing volunteers, could penetrate the depths of the stoke-hold. The place was a charnel-house, a stifling pit, filled with the charred contents of the furnaces, which gave off the most noisome fumes owing to the rapid condensation of steam and water escaping from the damaged pipes. But the gale raging without served one good purpose in driving plenty of air down the ventilating cowls. Gradually, the choking atmosphere cleared. Courtenay was the first to reach the lowermost rung of the iron ladder, whence he looked with the eyes of despair on a scene of death and ruin. The electric light was uninjured. It revealed the bodies of several men, either dead or insensible, lying amidst the scattered coal. Shovels, stoking-rods, and pieces of iron plate had been hurled about in wild confusion. The door of one furnace was blown clean out of its bolts; furnace bars and fire-bricks strewed the iron deck, while, each time the ship rolled, the heavy clank of loose metal somewhere in the engine-room proved that the damage was not confined solely to the stoke-hold. If Courtenay could have dropped quietly into the sea through the stout hull of the _Kansas_ he would have welcomed the certain result in that bitter moment. But he was the captain, and men would look to him for salvation. Well, he would do all that was possible, and, at any rate, die at his post. So, choking back his misery, he organized the work of rescue. Slings were formed of ropes, and those men in whom any signs of life were visible were the first to be lifted to the upper deck. The stoke-hold was quickly emptied of its inanimate occupants; living and dead alike were carried to the untenanted second-class saloon forward. Then Courtenay left Walker to solve the puzzle of the accident and report on its extent, while he climbed back to the bridge, there to tackle the far more pressing problem of the measures to be adopted if he would save his ship. It was typical of the man that his first act was to wipe the grime of the stoke-hold off his face and hands. Then he drew a chart from the locker in which he had placed it two hours earlier. Mr. Boyle, who had been attending to the signals both by siren and rocket, joined him. Courtenay pointed to a pin-mark in the sheet.