“Mr. Richards directs me to report to the captain that the engine is making but thirty revolutions a minute, and that the firemen won’t do any better,” said the oiler.
“That’s what the matter! Bad luck to those same blackguards of firemen! We should have done better with some of the fellows in the fire-room!” exclaimed O’Hara, as he hastened down to the main deck.
He had hardly reached the foot of the ladder before Mr. Frisbone hailed him, coming out of the cabin.
“What’s the trouble, Capt. O’Hara?” shouted the Prince, in his usual loud tone, though the captain was not six feet from him. “I’ve been taking a nap; and, when I waked up, I thought the steamer had stopped; but I found she was moving a little. Is any thing out of kilter?”
“We are making but six knots an hour, sir; and the rascals of firemen won’t work,” replied O’Hara.
“Won’t work? What’s got into them?”
“I don’t know, sir: I am going down into the fire-room to see what the trouble is.”
“All right: that’s the way to do business; and I’ll go down with you,” added the Prince.
They stopped in the engine-room to hear what the engineer had to say about it. Richards had been down, and had called in French a dozen times for more steam; but the firemen would not do any better. He had found the furnace-doors open; and he concluded that the Italians and Frenchmen had concluded to strike for higher wages, though they had received their own price for their services.
“We will soon see about that!” exclaimed O’Hara, as he began to descend the iron steps into the fire-room.