s
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.

"Never," murmured Jack; and lifting the heavy basket, more by an effort
of will than by muscular force, he ascended the ladder.

From the deck an animated spectacle was to be seen. The little steamer
ran to and fro from the wharf to the ship, laden with passengers who
came hurriedly on board. The passengers were representatives of all
nations. Some were gay, and others were weeping, but in the faces of
all was to be read an anxiety or a hope; for these displacements, these
movings, are almost invariably the result of some great disturbance, and
are, in general, the last quiver of the shock that throws you from one
continent to the other.

This same feverish element pervaded everything, even the ves