After entering the mine, the cold English air cut through Francisco and everyone else present. A thick smoke hung in the air—similar to what he had seen upon arriving in Newcastle, though this was far denser, almost suffocating. The sharp smell of coal forced him to cover his nose.
As he approached the colliery head, a deafening rhythm echoed through the chamber—clank, hiss, clank, hiss. The sound was overwhelming, yet for some reason, Francisco felt an intense pull toward it.
The ambassador tried to say something behind him, but Francisco couldn't hear a word, completely absorbed by the machinery before him. He watched the enormous engine with childlike awe—the coal emerging from the mine in quantities of hundreds of kilograms, perhaps even tons.
After a while, the ambassador and Murdoch stepped away from the noise.
