“Where are we, then?”
“H’about ten north, fifty west, I ‘eard ‘em a sayin’.”
“That’s where?” asked Jack anxiously. He knew that ten north meant somewhere pretty close to the equator. In fact, for days past he and Tom had discarded all the clothing they could dispense with, for it had grown insufferably hot in the engine-room.
“H’off the cowst h’of South Ameriky somewheres; bloaw me h’if h’I knows where,” was the vague response. “H’all h’I knows h’is that h’if we doan’t get no cowl, we doan’t get no steam.”
A quick step sounded behind Jack. As the footsteps rang out on the metal floor the boy turned swiftly. Medway confronted him.
“What you doing here?”
“Finding out how much coal we had,” responded Jack. “There’s hardly enough steam to run the engines.”
“You get back where you belong,” roared Medway, “and you, you salt-horse-eating Britisher, you get back to your work. D’ye hear me? I’ll have stuff enough down here before long to get us as far as we want to go.”
As Jack once more entered the engine-room these words stuck in his mind. “As far as we want to go.” They must, then, be nearing their destination. And what was to follow? When he awakened Tom the two had a long talk about it without coming to any definite conclusion on the matter.
One thing was positive, steam had been raised again. By what means was evident when the British stoker, who appeared inclined to be friendly, stuck his head through the bulkhead door.