“Here’s the stuff from the store, mom!” exclaimed Fenn, as he rushed into the house.
“What’s the matter?” asked his mother anxiously. “Has there been an accident, Fenn?”
“Got to find the boys! Captain Wiggs!Modoc!Going on a cruise! Tell you later!” was what Fenn exclaimed in jerky sentences as he hurried down the side steps and out of the yard.
“Oh, those boys! They get so excited you can’t do anything with them!” exclaimed Mrs. Masterson. “I wonder what they’re up to now?”
If she could have seen her son and his chums, whom he met on the street, soon after his hurried exit, she would have been more puzzled than ever.
“Great news! Great!” yelled Fenn, as he caught sight of Frank, Ned and Bart approaching him. “We’re going with Captain Wiggs to make a tour of the Great Lakes! Whoop! Hold me down, somebody!”
He grabbed Ned and Bart, each by an arm, and began whirling them around in a good imitation of an Indian war dance.
“Here! Let up!” cried Frank. “What’s it all about? Who’s killed?”
“Nobody, you ninny!” shouted Fenn. “We’re going on theModoc!”
“Who says so?”
“When?”
“How many of us?”
“Where?”
“Are we all going?”
All Fenn could do was to nod his head vigorously. He was all out of breath. As soon as he could get enough wind to talk, he rapidly explained what Captain Wiggs had said.
“Does he mean we’re to work our passage?” asked Frank. “I don’t know as I care to shovel coal, if that’s what he means.”
“I guess he was only joking about that part of it,” answered Fenn. “I’m going, if I have to scrub the decks. It will be sport.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Bart. “I don’t mind working my way for the sake of the trip. When can we go?”
“Let’s go down to the wharf and have a talkwith him,” suggested Ned, and they all agreed this was a wise idea.
A little later they were in the large cabin of theModoc, which, for a freight boat, was well fitted up.
Captain Wiggs repeated the invitation he had given to Fenn. The boys would be welcome to make the trip with him, he said, as long as their parents consented. They would need an outfit of clothing, with rough garments for stormy weather, which might be encountered.
“And we’ll do anything we can to help you run the boat,” added Bart, who felt that some return ought to be given for the captain’s generosity.
“Well,” replied the commander, in drawling tones, “I don’t expect too much. But if you could manage to keep the door mats clean it would be a great help.”
“Door mats—on a ship?” questioned Ned.
“Yes; of course,” replied the captain, with an assumption of dignity. “You see the salt spray gets all over the deck, and if it’s tramped into the cabins it makes the floors dirty. My steward is very particular about clean floors, and I thoughtthat if you could help keep the mats clean, why it would make his work easier, and he wouldn’t grumble so much. However, if it’s too much trouble, why of course—”
“Oh, we’ll do it,” hastily agreed Fenn, fearing that the trip might be called off. He did not quite know how to take the captain’s remarks, for the commander had not the least suspicion of a smile on his face. After all, thought Fenn, it might be necessary to clean the door mats, and he resolved to do his share of it.
“Well, now that that’s settled,” went on the commander, as if a load had been taken from his mind, “we’ll go into further details.”
He then explained to the boys what they would need in the way of clothing and baggage, and he briefly described the trip. The duration of it was a little uncertain as he could not tell how long he would have to wait at Duluth, after unloading, before he could get a cargo to bring back.
“I guess I’ll get you home safe in time to begin the fall term of school,” he said, “and that ought to answer.”
“It will,” declared Ned. “It’s mighty fine of you to ask us.”
“Oh, I guess you’ll be worth your salt,” commented Captain Wiggs. “Besides attending tothe door mats, I may expect you to look after the scuttle-butt, now and again.”
Fenn wanted to ask what the scuttle-butt was, but as the steward came in just then, to get some orders, the boys decided it was time to leave.
They promised to be on hand the day set for sailing, and then, with their minds full of the happy prospect ahead of them, they went ashore.
The parents of the lads offered no objection to their making the cruise in company with Captain Wiggs, who was well known in Darewell. In due time valises and trunks were packed and the four chums, the envy of their less-fortunate school companions, strolled down to the wharf and boarded theModoc.
The steamer was a large one, and had good accommodations for passengers, though she seldom carried any. This time, besides the boys, there was only one man, who was making the trip for his health. He was Burton Ackerman, who lived in a small town not far from Darewell.
They found that their staterooms, which were of good size, adjoined one another. They put away their belongings, and then went up on deck. TheModochad cast off, and was slowly gathering speed as it dropped down the river toward Lake Erie.
“Don’t forget the scenery, boys!” called the captain, as he passed.
“We won’t,” answered Ned, with a laugh.
The boys had often made the trip to Lake Erie, and there was little of novelty for them in this. But, when the steamer had gotten well out on the big body of water, they crowded to the rails, for they had never been out so far as this before.
“It’s almost as good as an ocean voyage,” exclaimed Bart.
“What are you thinking of, Stumpy?” asked Frank, noticing that his short chum was rather quiet.
“I know,” declared Ned. “He’s wondering if he’ll see Ruth.”
“Oh, you—” began the badgered one, when the attention of the boys was taken from tormenting their chum by several sharp blasts of theModoc’swhistle. There was an answering screech and Frank suddenly exclaimed:
“Look there, boys!”
They all looked. On the port side, bearing right down on them, and coming at full speed, was an immense grain barge. It appeared to be unmanageable, for the whistle was frantically blowing, and a man in the pilot house was waving his hand.
“Toot! Toot! Toot! Toot!” screamed the whistle of theModoc.
“She’s going to ram us!” cried Fenn. “We can’t get out of the way in time!”
There was a confused jangling of bells from theModoc’sengine room, followed by more whistles, and then the steamer began to swing around. But still the grain barge came straight on. A collision seemed inevitable.
From somewhere Captain Wiggs reached the deck on the jump. He tore past the boys on the run, and fairly burst into the door of the pilot house, where the first mate was in charge.
“We’d better get ready to jump!” cried Frank. “It looks as if we were going to be cut in two.”
“Grab life preservers!” shouted Ned. “Here are some back here!”
He turned to lead the way to where, under an awning, some of the cork jackets were hung in racks. Before he could reach them a peculiar shiver seemed to run over theModoc.
“She’s hit us!” yelled Bart. “Everybody jump!”
The boys made a rush for the rail, intending to trust to their swimming abilities rather than to chance remaining on the steamer after the grain barge had hit her.
But their plans were suddenly frustrated for, asthey reached the rail, something that towered away above their heads loomed up, and the grain vessel came sliding along side of theModoc, just as if the two craft were about to tie up together for loading purposes.
The grain barge only bumped gently against the side of the steamer. The shrill whistles ceased. The jangling bells were silent. By the narrowest of margins a bad collision had been avoided.
Out of the pilot house came Captain Wiggs, running along the rail until he came opposite the pilot house of the grain barge. Then, standing on a signal flag locker the commander addressing the man in charge of the vessel which had given them all such a scare, exclaimed:
“Say, what in the name of the Sacred Cow are you trying to do, anyhow? Don’t you know how to steer, you inconsiderate slab-sided specimen of an isosceles triangle!”
“Sure I know how to steer,” replied the man, who was as cool as the captain was excited. “I was steering boats when you was a baby. But I’d like to know how in the name of Billy Hochswatter’s mud-turtle any one can manage a boat when the steam steering gear breaks just as another vessel gets in front of me.”
“Oh, then that’s different,” replied Captain Wiggs, with an understanding of the difficulties of the situation.
“Yes, I guess it is,” retorted the other.
“Why didn’t you use the hand gear?” asked the commander of theModoc.
“That got jammed just as they were swinging my boat around, and all I could do was to signal for a clear course.”
“Well, I gave it to you, but I almost had to rip my engines off the bed plates to do it,” retorted Captain Wiggs. “I reversed at full speed, and swung that wheel around until it looked like a spinning top. Only for that we’d be on the bottom of the lake by now.”
“That’s right,” agreed the other pilot. “You had your nerve with you. Well, as long as there’s no damage done I s’pose you can go ahead. I’ll have to lay-to for repairs.”
“Um,” was all Captain Wiggs replied, for he had not quite gotten over his scare, used as he was to narrow escapes from danger. Slowly theModocwas backed away from the side of the grain barge, and, when at the proper distance, she was sent ahead again, the other craft coming to anchor.
“I hope I don’t meet him again this voyage,” murmured Captain Wiggs, as he walked up to where the four chums stood. “He’s the most unlucky fellow I know. Something is always happening to his boats.”
“Who is he?” asked Ned.
“Captain Streitwetter. He’s a German from Germanville. Did you hear him mention Billy Hochswatter’s mud-turtle?”
“Yes,” said Bart. “What did he mean?”
“That is a story,” replied Captain Wiggs gravely, “which can only be told after the dinner dishes are washed. You’d better look after them,” and with that he walked away.
“There he goes again!” exclaimed Frank. “You never know what he is going to say. I believe he’s stringing us.”
“I almost know it,” retorted Fenn. “It’s only a way he has, but the trouble is we don’t know whether or not he wants us to do the things he says. I wonder if we had better do anything about the dishes?”
“Of course not,” said Frank. “The cook sees to that.”
“But maybe the cook is sick,” insisted Fenn. “Captain Wiggs might want us to help.”
“If I thought so I’d offer at once,” put in Ned. “I used to do it at home, once in a while, to help out.”
“I’ll go ask him,” volunteered Fenn, and he started to find Captain Wiggs, when he was halted by seeing the commander step from behind a pile of boxes. The captain was laughing heartily.
“That’s the time I had you guessing; didn’t I?” he demanded. “Wash the dishes. Ha! Ha! Ho! Ho! That’s pretty good!”
The boys, looking a bit sheepish, soon joined in the merriment at their expense, and the little pleasantry served to banish the nervous feeling that remained after the narrow escape from the collision.
“Billy Hochswatter’s mud-turtle!” repeated the captain. “That’s what Captain Streitwetter always says when he’s excited. I don’t believe there ever was such a person as Billy Hochswatter.”
“I either,” added Fenn.
“I must go down to the engine room to see if we suffered any damage,” the commander of theModocwent on. “You boys amuse yourselves as well as you can until dinner time. You don’t have to peel the potatoes,” he added with a wink.
“We’ll have to get even with him, somehow,”suggested Ned, when the captain was out of hearing.
“How?” asked Bart.
“I haven’t thought it out yet, but we must play some kind of a trick on him. He’ll think the Darewell chums are slow if we believe all he tells us, and don’t come back at him. Try and think up something.”
“Good idea,” commented Fenn. “We’ll have the laugh on him, next time.”
The day passed quickly, for there were many novel sights for the boys to see. Captain Wiggs was kept so busy, for there were some repairs needed to one of the engines, because of the sudden reversing, that the boys did not see him again that day. He did not appear at dinner or supper, and the steward said the commander was taking his meals in the engine room.
TheModocwas going along at less than her usual speed, but was making fairly good time.
“Well, I s’pose we might as well turn in, boys,” suggested Fenn, about nine o’clock. “I believe that is the proper term aboard a ship.”
“Yes, messmates,” spoke Ned, assuming a theatrical attitude, “we will now seek our downy hammocks, and court ‘tired nature’s sweet restorer, balmy sleep,’ to arise in the gladsome morning,and ‘you must wake and call me early; call me early, mother dear, for I’m to be Queen of the May, mother; I’m to be Queen of the May!’”
“We’ll call you ‘loony,’ instead of ‘early,’ if you get off any more of that nonsense,” murmured Frank.
“That’s what,” agreed Fenn. “You’re not studying English Lit. and French history now, Ned.”
“Very well, most noble gentlemen,” went on Ned. “I shall obey you, right gladly, I ween!” and he made a dive for his stateroom before Bart, who made a sudden grab could lay hands on him.
The others soon turned in, and, in spite of their new and strange surroundings and beds, were soon sound asleep.
It must have been about midnight that Fenn was awakened by hearing a great tramping on deck. It was followed by confused shouts, and then came the jangling of the engine room bells. TheModocseemed to increase her speed.
“I wonder if there’s another collision coming?” he said as he sat up. He heard Bart moving in the next room, and presently Frank’s voice was heard calling:
“Say, fellows, something’s wrong.”
The noise on deck increased, and it sounded asthough several men were running to and fro, dragging ropes about.
“I’m going up!” decided Fenn, jumping out of his berth and hastily pulling on his clothes. From the open doors of his chums’ rooms he could see that they, too, were attiring themselves with little regard for how they looked.
Up on deck they hurried. As they emerged from the companionway their eyes were met with a bright glare.
“A fire!” exclaimed Ned. “The boat’s afire!”
“Don’t say that! Don’t say that, young man, I beg of you!” besought a man, attired in his trousers and night shirt, as he approached Ned, who recognized him as Mr. Ackerman, the sick passenger.
“What is it?” inquired Fenn, who was right behind Ned.
“He said the ship was on fire,” repeated Mr. Ackerman. “I can’t stand it. I have heart disease. Excitement is bad for me. Do, please, one of you, go and find out how fast it is burning, and come back and tell me.”
He sat down at the head of the companionway, as coolly as though he had asked to be informed which way the wind was blowing. Evidently heknew how to take care of himself, so as not to aggravate his malady.
“The ship isn’t on fire!” exclaimed Bart, crowding past Ned and Fenn.
“But something evidently is burning,” insisted Mr. Ackerman. “I can smell smoke, and see the reflection of the blaze.”
This was not strange, considering that theModocwas in the midst of a cloud of vapor, and that bright tongues of fire could be seen close to her bow.
“It’s a big grain elevator on shore that’s burning!” exclaimed Frank. “See! There it is!”
As he spoke the smoke which enveloped the steamer was blown aside. The boys could then note that, during the night the vessel had approached close to shore. They were near a good-sized city, and, among the wharfs was a big building, built to hold grain in readiness to load on the lake steamers.
From the top of this flames were shooting high into the air, and theModocwas approaching it at full speed.
“What’s the matter? Can’t Captain Wiggs stop the ship?” cried Fenn, for it certainly looked as if theModocwas going to run, full tilt, into the flames, which were right at the water’s edge, as the elevator was on the end of the wharf.
“Clang!”
The half speed bell sounded from the engine room. The steamer began to slacken speed.
“Clang! Clang!”
Two gongs. Stop the engines. TheModocwas going ahead under her own momentum only. Then another signal.
Under the stern of the steamer the water boiled and bubbled as the great screw was reversed, to check the vessel’s way. The jingling bell, following the signal to reverse, indicated to the engineer to back his machinery at full speed, and the big craft fairly quivered, so great was the strain of stopping her up short.
But they were master-hands aboard theModocand she swung broadside to a wharf as gently as a boy brings his toy boat to a stop. From the deck men leaped to the string piece, with great ropes in their hands, which they made fast to butts and piling. The steamer was tied up, so close to the burning elevator that the boys could feel the heat of it.
“What are you going to do, captain?” asked Mr. Ackerman, who seemed to have recovered from his nervousness, when he found theModocwas in no danger.
“I’m going to help douse that fire!” cried the commander. “Lively with that hose, men! Lively now! Snatch her quick and I’ll give you all the water you can handle!”
Several brawny deck-hands began pulling a line of hose over the side. Other men were lowering a big boat, into which the men with the hose jumped. The hose was unreeled after them as they pulled out on the lake, in front of the burning elevator.
“I’m afraid it’s a goner,” remarked Captain Wiggs, as a gust of wind sent the leaping flames licking along the surface of the water.
“How did it happen?”
“Whose place is it?”
“What are you going to do?”
Those were some of the questions which the boys asked Captain Wiggs. He answered them all, comprehensively.
“It’s an elevator in which the owners of theModocare interested,” he said. “I was to call there to-morrow for a load of grain. I was heading for the wharf, intending to tie up until morning, when I saw flames shooting out of the top of the shaft. I’ve got a powerful pump aboard, and I knew they didn’t have any fire boat in town, so I speeded theModocas close as I could. I don’t believe I can do much, but I’m going to try. I’m afraid the fire has too much start.”
“Can we go ashore and watch it?” asked Ned.
“I guess so. Don’t go too near, and be careful you don’t fall off the pier. It’s deep water all around.”
Captain Wiggs hurried down to the engine room, for the men with the hose in the boat were now as close as they dared to go to the fire, and could use water.
“Come on, fellows!” cried Ned. “We don’t often get a chance to see a big fire like this.”
They leaped to the wharf, since no gang plank had been run out, and were soon hurrying along the pier to shore. The elevator was several slips or piers distant, and the boys would have to goashore to reach it. As they ran on they could hear the big pump of theModocbeginning to force water from the lake through the hose, the nozzle of which the men in the row boat directed at the fire.
In the street along the water front the four chums found a great crowd. Every one was hurrying to the blaze. Men were shouting, boys were yelling, and even women and girls had hurriedly dressed to come out to the conflagration.
“The whole block back of the elevator’ll go, if they don’t stop it pretty soon!” yelled a man as he passed on the run.
“Here comes the water-tower!” shouted several.
“Look out there!”
“Clear the way!”
An insistent clanging of a fire gong to the accompaniment of barking dogs told that some piece of apparatus was dashing along the street. The boys felt some one from behind thrust them to one side.
“Look out!” a policeman shouted in their ears. “Do you want to be killed?”
They shrank back, burying themselves in the crowd on either side of the way, just as the watertower, with the plunging horses foam-flecked and heaving, dashed by.
“They’ve sent for more engines from Frenchtown!” cried some one in the throng.
“They’ll need all they can get.”
“The warehouse’ll go next!”
“They’d better use dynamite!”
“This shows we ought to have a fire boat!”
“This department don’t know how to handle a blaze like that!”
Remarks of this nature kept floating to the ears of the boys as they hurried along, arm in arm, so they would not become separated in the press that was on every side of them.
Above the din sounded a shrill whistle, and a fire-engine, spouting sparks, with the stoker at the back, clinging to the rail with one hand, and with the other throwing soft coal on the glowing mass under the boiler, crammed his head out to see how much farther the panting horses had to run.
The blazing elevator was hidden from sight of the boys by several buildings that intervened, but by looking up they could see the lurid sky, and the smoke-laden air, in which glowed dull red sparks, like stars. Suddenly the crowd, of which the four chums formed a part, swung around acorner. Then a terrible, but vivid scene was presented.
On the end of a big wharf, with the black lake as a background, was the flaming structure. It stood out boldly, like a picture framed in ebony, illuminating itself by leaping, licking tongues of yellow fire, that seemed to tumble and toss—to twist and coil about like devouring serpents.
Up shot the flames—far above the slanting, narrow roof of the elevator. The windows shone out as though millions of candles had been placed in them. Through some casements, darting spears of fire glanced, as if to transfix anything in their path, not satisfied with what was within. The piles of grain made a dense smoke, and the peculiar structure of the building, like some immense chimney, gave a draught that seemed to doom the elevator to complete destruction.
At the foot of the building could be seen a dark mass of firemen, moving here and there. In spots it was illuminated by little spurts of flame, where the engines were puffing like mad to send the quenching water on the fiercely burning timbers.
“They’ll never stop that fire!” shouted a man close to the chums. “The roof’ll cave in soon!”
“Why don’t they use the stand pipes in theelevator?” asked another man. “No engine they’ve got can throw water to the roof.”
“The stand pipes are melted by now,” was the answer. “They tried ’em, but it got too hot. There she goes!”
The flames seemed to make one final leap, as if to reach a higher point in the air than they had yet attained. There was a sound as though a great gun had exploded and the roof, blown off by the heated air inside, and by the gases generated from the burning grain, was scattered into a thousand pieces.
Then, as if satisfied that it had accomplished what it set out to do, the fire died down a little. The top stories of the elevator toppled in, and the mass seemed to crumple up. Owing to the packed heaps of grain it was burning slowly, now that most of the wood work was consumed.
“That’s another blow to Hayward!” spoke a voice so close to Fenn’s ear that the boy started in spite of himself.
“Hush!” cautioned a man, who was beside the one who had first spoken, “some one might hear you.”
“No one knows what I’m talking about,” was the answer. “I guess Hayward will be willingto talk business now. He can’t stand many such losses as this, even if he does own most of Bayville. I understand he didn’t carry much insurance on this grain, as it was stored for quick movement. Now, when I see him—”
The man stopped suddenly, for Fenn was looking right at him. Somehow the youth knew instinctively that he was talking about the Mr. Hayward who had been injured in the auto accident. What could it mean? Why was the speaker glad that the westerner had suffered a loss in the elevator fire? Fenn wanted to hear more.
But the man who had first spoken, said nothing further. He grasped his companion by the arm, and nodded toward Fenn. The other boys were still watching the fire, and were some distance away from Stumpy.
“Were you—” began the first speaker, looking at Fenn, when his companion suddenly drew him back among the crowd.
“Stop! Stop!” Fenn heard him whisper. “I must get hold of him and—”
There was some mystery here. Fenn vaguely felt it, but he could not tell what it was. There was a movement in the throng, and Fenn’s chums were pressed back to where he stood.
“Here comes some more engines!” was the cry.
Additional steamers, summoned from an adjoining city, rattled up. The fire, which had died down, seemed to break out afresh, as the flames seized on new material.
“I tell you I’m going to find out about him!”
This was the voice of the man who had spoken of Mr. Hayward. Fenn glanced around. The fellow, who had a sinister face, was making his way toward him.
“Maybe they’re thieves or pickpockets,” thought Fenn. “I guess we’d better get out of here while we have the chance.”
He leaned forward and grasped Bart by the arm.
“Come on!” he hoarsely whispered.
“What for?” inquired Bart. “The fire isn’t half over.”
“Come on,” repeated Fenn earnestly. “I think Captain Wiggs may want us.”
He was so insistent, and nodded in such a peculiar way that Bart realized something unusual was in the wind. Pulling Ned and Frank close to him, Fenn whispered:
“I think some pickpockets are trying to robus. I’ve brought my money with me. Let’s get out of here.”
The boys made a quick turn in the crowd, and worked their way to where the press was not so thick. Fenn led the way, looking back to see if the men were following.
They were. The man with the sinister face, and his companion, were trailing close after the boys.
“Come on!” cried Fenn, suddenly breaking into a run.
But the men were not to be so easily left behind. They, too, quickened their pace, and pursued the four chums, though what their motive was the boys could only guess.
The boys soon found themselves mixed up in another part of the crowd, that had, apparently, come down a side street leading to the lake front. They had some trouble disengaging themselves from it, and, when they again had a fairly clear street to run through, they were some distance from the fire.
“Did we lose ’em?” asked Fenn, panting from the run.
“What? Who?” asked Frank, who did not exactly understand the cause for the sudden retreat.
“Those two—pickpockets,” replied Fenn, not knowing exactly how to classify the strange men.
“Here comes a couple of fellows on the run,” said Ned. “I guess they’re still after us. Let’s wait and ask what they want. They haven’t any right to follow us.”
“No, no!” urged Fenn. “Come on back to the steamer.”
He seemed so much in earnest that his chums did not stop to ask questions, but increased their speed. Just as they reached the wharf, at the end of which theModocwas tied, another fire engine, hastening to the elevator blaze, dashed by.
There was a quick clanging of the gong, and a shrill screech from the whistle. It was instantly followed by a shout.
“The engine struck one of the men!” cried Frank, looking back. “He’s knocked down! Run over I guess! Come on back!”
The boys hesitated. They did not want to leave an injured man, even if he and his companion had been pursuing them. The street, at this point, was deserted, save for the two strangers. The engine did not stop, the horses being urged on by the driver, who did not want to have the reputation of arriving last at the conflagration.
“Come on back and help him,” urged Bart, who was always anxious to aid persons in distress, even if they were enemies.
The others hesitated. It was rather a risk, Fenn thought. But the problem was solved for them. The man who had been knocked down by the engine arose to his feet. Supporting himself on the shoulder of his companion he limped off up the street, and away from the boys.
“I guess he isn’t badly hurt,” remarked Ned. “He’ll not chase us any more. That engine came along just in time.”
“Except I guess it’s too late to help put out the fire,” said Frank. “There can’t be much left of the elevator.”
“But what did we run for?” asked Ned. “Who were those chaps, Fenn?”
Fenn explained what he had heard, and expressed the belief that the men had some business enmity against Mr. Hayward.
“They seemed delighted that the elevator, containing his grain, burned down; or at least the one man did,” he said. “Then, when they saw I was listening, though I didn’t really intend to, they acted as though they wanted to get hold of me, and see why I was so interested. I thought they might be pickpockets, but now I don’t believe they were.”
“We must tell Captain Wiggs about it,” suggested Frank.
“I don’t believe I will,” answered Fenn. “I don’t want him to laugh at me, and I think he surely will if I suggest that the men chased us. He’ll probably think we took two harmless citizens for burglars. No, I think the best plan will be to wait and see what turns up.”
“I’ll tell you what you can do,” spoke Ned.
“What?” inquired Fenn.
“You can ask Captain Wiggs who owned that grain in the burned elevator. He’ll know, as he was going to get a load there.”
“Good idea,” responded Fenn. “I will.”
The boys were soon aboard the ship again. They found that the men in the rowboat had returned, as the side of the elevator nearest the lake had all burned away, and their hose was no longer effective. The fire was under control now, but was still blazing well. Enough engines had arrived to prevent it spreading.
“Well, this knocks my plans all askew,” remarked the commander of theModoc, when the boys came on deck. “I don’t know where to get my grain, now.”
“Did you say the same company that owned this steamer owned that grain?” asked Fenn, seeing a good chance to obtain the information he wanted.
“No, I said they owned the elevator,” replied the captain. “The grain is a separate matter. I don’t know whose that was. Whoever it belonged to won’t get much good from it.”
“Is there any way of telling who owned it?”asked Fenn, for he thought, even though the men had mentioned the name “Hayward,” that it might be some other man than the one injured in the auto accident—some one else than the father of Ruth.
“Why, I can tell by looking at my order slips,” replied Mr. Wiggs. “Why are you so interested?”
“I was wondering if it was any one I knew,” answered Fenn, a little evasively, as he did not want to explain what had happened.
“Um—let’s see,” and Captain Wiggs who, followed by the boys had gone to the main cabin, began thumbing over the pages of a small book he took from his pocket. “‘Proceed to’—no, that’s not it—‘take cargo’—um—no, it must be on the next page—Oh, yes, here it is. ‘Get cargo of grain at Lakeville, from Robert Hayward Company.’ That’s it. The grain belonged to Robert Hayward—why—er—say, boys, that’s the name of the man who was hurt back there in Darewell—he and his daughter Ruth—you know him—why, Fenn, he was at your house!”
“So he was!” exclaimed Fenn, his knowledge thus unexpectedly confirmed.
“Quite a remarkable coincidence!” went on theCaptain. “Very strange! Well, strange things are always happening. You didn’t hear what started the fire, did you?”
“I heard a policeman say it was spontaneous combustion,” said Frank, “but they always give that as a cause, when they can’t think of any other.”
“I don’t s’pose they’ll ever find out,” remarked the captain. “Well, I can’t do anything more. We’d better turn in, although it’s most morning. Soon as it gets daylight I’ll have to hustle around and find out what I’m going to do.”
Captain Wiggs was a very busy man the next day, sending messages to the steamer’s owners to ascertain their wishes. The boys visited the elevator, in which great piles of grain were still smouldering, in spite of the tons of water poured on them. Fenn kept a lookout for the mysterious men, but did not see anything of them.
Captain Wiggs had to remain tied up at Lakeville until he received orders to proceed to the next port for a cargo that would be awaiting him there. The boys spent the time on shore, visiting various scenes of interest.
“Well, we’re off again!” cried the commander, on the morning of the third day, as he came hurrying down the dock, waving a telegram in his hand. “Tying-up is no fun. You may get under wayas soon as possible, Mr. Sidleton,” he added to the first mate.
Steam was up, and, in a short time theModocwas again plowing the waters of Lake Erie. Gradually Lakeville was left behind, and soon they were out of sight of land.
“Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!”
A bell suddenly sounded, with queer double strokes.
“Eight bells!” exclaimed Captain Wiggs, as he arose from a deck chair where he had been sitting, to the boys. “Time for mess,” and he led the way toward the dining saloon.
As he was about to descend the companionway he looked over the rail. Astern of theModocwas a small steam yacht, coming on at a swift speed.
“That’s queer,” murmured the captain.
“What is?” asked Fenn, for the boys were privileged characters.
“That yacht,” replied the commander. “She’s been following us all the morning; ever since we left Lakeville. I wonder what the game is? Steward, bring me the glass,” he called, and, when the binoculars were handed to him, the captain took a long look at the pursuing craft.
For nearly a minute Captain Wiggs continued his observation of the on-coming boat. Then, laying aside the glass, he remarked:
“I can’t make anything out of her. It’s a strange boat. Never saw her on the lakes before. And they seem to have an uncommon interest in us. A couple of men on deck are taking turns in looking at us through a telescope.”
“Two men?” asked Fenn, beginning to get excited.
“There are two on deck, but of course there must be more somewhere aboard,” replied the captain.
“And has one of them a—a sort of mean looking face?” went on Fenn.
“Well, from what I can see of him through the glass, he doesn’t look to be a very cheerful chap.”
“I’ll wager it’s those men after us!” exclaimed Fenn, turning to his chums.
“What men?” inquired Captain Wiggs.
“The men who chased us when we were at the elevator fire,” and Fenn told of the adventure.
“I wish you had mentioned that to me before,” said the commander, looking grave. “This thing may be serious.”
“Why? Do you think they are thieves?” asked Bart.
“There’s no telling what they are,” and the captain took another observation at the steamer in the rear. “You know the lakes are part of the dividing line between the United States and Canada. Often criminals from both countries find it to their advantage to conduct some of their operations on the water, and there are any number of questionable characters plying on this lake. I can’t make out why those men should want you boys, or Fenn, more particularly, unless they think he may know something of their operations, and they want to stop him from talking.”
“Well, they can’t prevent me!” boasted Fenn.
“Don’t be too sure,” cautioned the captain. “Of course you have nothing to fear as long as you are with me, aboard theModoc, but don’t run any chances while ashore. Meanwhile those fellows have got to catch us first. They’ve got nerve,I must say, pursuing us as if they were government officers and we were smugglers.”
“Do smugglers cross the lake?” asked Ned.
“They try to, and, sometimes they succeed. But I wish you boys would go down to dinner. I want to keep watch of this boat. When you finish, come up on deck, and you can stand guard, while I eat. We’ll keep tabs on her then, and we needn’t let any of the crew here know about it. It’s just as well to keep matters a little quiet until we find out what it all means.”
The boys did not linger long over their dinner, and were soon on deck again. They found Captain Wiggs gazing at the pursuing steam yacht through the glass.
“She’s coming on,” he said. “Seems to have plenty of speed, but I guess we can show her a little ourselves. I’ll give orders to the engineer to increase our rate some. Then we’ll see what happens. You keep watch, and let me know when I come back.”
He handed the binoculars to Fenn, and went below. The four chums took turns looking at the on-coming craft. Presently they noticed that their own steamer was making faster progress through the water.
“I guess we’ll leave ’em behind now,” observed Frank.
“Then you’ve got another guess coming,” responded Fenn. “They’ve put on more steam.”
The other boat seemed to spurt through the waves that were piled up in front of her sharp prow. She easily kept right after theModoc, and even seemed to approach closer.
“I wonder what they’ll do when they catch up to us?” asked Bart.
“Wait until they catch us,” suggested Ned.
“Well, boys, how about it?” called Captain Wiggs, as he came on deck. “Have you polished up the anchor chain, as I asked you to. The regular polisher-boy is sick, and I’m short handed.”
“You didn’t tell us—” began Fenn, when a smile on the face of the commander warned him that it was only a joke.
“How is our friend, the enemy?” inquired Captain Wiggs, reaching for the glass.
“Well, we haven’t lost her,” replied Frank.
“So I see,” observed the commander. “I think I’ll have to try a little trick.”
He went to the pilot house and soon theModocwas sweeping away from her course in a long, graceful curve.
“There, now we’ll see if they are following us, or whether they are just on the same course by accident, and are using us for pace-makers,” remarked the captain, as he came back to where the boys were.
In less than a minute the course of the pursuing vessel was also changed, and on she came, after theModoc, the black smoke pouring from her funnel, testifying to the fact that the engine room force was piling on the fuel to make more steam.
“She’s going to catch us or burst her boilers,” remarked the captain, with a grim smile. “Well, we’ll see. I made them show their hand. They evidently believe we’re bound for the Canadian shore, and they think they have us outside the protection of the United States now, and can do as they please.”
He hurried to the pilot house, and soon there were several signals of the engine room bells.
“We’ll see if we can’t get a few more knots out of her,” observed the commander as he came back, and took a hurried look at the yacht astern. “I guess theModochas some speed left in her yet, even if she is only a freighter.”
True, the big steamer did go faster, but so did the pursuing boat. The chase was leading straight toward Canada now.
“Can’t seem to shake ’em off,” murmured the captain, with a somewhat worried look on his face. “I’ve a good notion to lay-to, and see what they want.”
“I—I wouldn’t,” said Fenn.
“Why not?” asked the captain quickly. “You haven’t done anything wrong; have you?”
“No, but—”
“Then I think I’ll just ask them the meaning of this unwarranted chase. They haven’t any right to keep after me like this, unless they’re a government vessel, and they’re not that or they would have shown their colors long ago. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll stop!”
He turned toward the pilot house to give the order. Fenn took up the binoculars, which the captain had laid down, and looked through them at the strange steam yacht. He could make out the two men on deck, one of them—he with the sinister face—staring at the little knot of boys, who seemed, so unaccountably, to have become involved in a mystery.
Following the ringing of the engine room bells, theModoc’sspeed began to slacken. Captain Wiggs came back to where the boys were and remarked.
“Now we’ll see what will happen.”
Hardly had he spoken than there sounded from the pursuing craft, which had not slackened speed, a shrill hissing. Then a white cloud appeared to hover over her.
“She’s broken a steam pipe!” cried the captain. “Too much pressure! I thought she couldn’t stand it!”
The strange craft was almost lost to sight in the cloud of white vapor that enveloped her, while, from the midst of it, came excited cries.
“Somebody’s hurt!” cried Fenn.
“Shouldn’t wonder,” replied Captain Wiggs, coolly. “There generally is when an explosion occurs in a boiler room.”
“Aren’t we going to help them?” inquired Frank.
“I’ll give them any aid they need,” said the commander. “We’ll see how much the damage amounts to. I’ll steam back toward ’em.”
He gave the necessary orders, and soon theModocwas slowly approaching the disabled craft. The clouds of steam had somewhat dispersed, but that something was wrong was evident from the manner in which men were hurrying about the deck of the recent pursuing yacht.
“I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” remarked Mr. Wiggs. “They seem to have stopped the leak in the pipe. I hope none of the men are badly scalded. I’ll offer ’em help, and theycan take it or leave it. They’ve made enough trouble for me as it is.”
But the strange craft evidently did not desire any aid, nor did the commanders of it seem to court any investigation of what had happened. As theModocapproached the other boat’s whistle sounded, and then it slowly started off, like a lame dog running away from a fight with a superior antagonist.
“Had enough, eh?” remarked the captain. “I thought so. Well, I’m not sorry that I don’t have to get to close quarters with them. It looks as if it was coming on to blow, and it’s no joke to have to tow a disabled boat on Lake Erie in a storm.”
Seeing that his proffered offer of help was declined Captain Wiggs changed the course back to his original one. As the other craft turned about, and steamed slowly away, Fenn watched through the glass, and the last thing he could see was the man with the ugly face, standing at the stern, gazing at theModocthrough a telescope.
“He’ll know me next time, anyhow,” thought Fenn, as he joined his chums, who were talking of the strange finish of the chase.
Discuss the recent happenings as they did, from all sides, the boys could not get at the bottom ofthem. No more could Captain Wiggs. But he soon found he had other things to think about than the chase which had ended so abruptly, for the weather changed suddenly, and there were indications of a heavy storm.
“I’d like to make the Detroit River before the blow comes on hard,” he remarked. “I’ve got a pretty heavy load aboard, and theModoc, while she’s a stanch craft, doesn’t behave as well in a sea as she might. I’ve lost considerable time through that elevator fire, and stopping on account of those men chasing us, so I must make it up.”
The steamer was sent ahead at full speed, but the storm developed faster than the captain had calculated so that, when still several miles from a good harbor, the wind suddenly swooped out of the west and soon there was a heavy sea running.
“Why, it’s almost like the ocean,” remarked Ned as, standing well forward, near the port rail, he looked across the lake and saw the big waves.
“You’ll think so, if this keeps up,” responded Captain Wiggs. “Lake Erie can kick up as pretty a storm as I ever want to see, and I’ve been through some hard ones, I can tell you. This is nothing to what it will be if the wind increases.”
And that the wind intended increasing was evidentfrom the way it howled over the big expanse of water, which was dotted with white-caps. Through the waves theModoclabored, her powerful engines and screw sending her ahead gallantly, though she rolled and pitched in a way to make the boys think they were on an ocean liner instead of a lake steamer.
It grew quite dark, partly because of the clouds that gathered, and because evening was approaching. Then the rain, which had held off for a while, came down with a suddenness that was almost like a cloud burst. Fortunately the boys, on the advice of the captain, had donned oil-skins, and they were protected, though sometimes it seemed as if the wind would drive the rain drops right through their garments.
“This is a terrible storm!” exclaimed Ned, as he held on to the rail and tried to peer ahead through the mist and blackness.
“Wait!” fairly shouted the captain. “You haven’t seen any more than the beginning.”
“That’s enough for me!” cried Fenn, as he made his way to the companionway and went below. The other boys followed, as the commander said it was hardly safe on deck. TheModocwas now laboring amid the big waves. The lookout, scanning the waste of waters for a sightof land, could see nothing but blackness ahead.
It did not seem quite so bad to the boys, after they were in the cabin, though they had to sit braced in chairs to avoid tumbling out when the vessel pitched and tossed, and it was quite a task to move about, for there was danger of bringing up against some piece of furniture, or the cabin partitions.
“An ocean voyage isn’t in it with this,” declared Ned. “It’s great!”
“It may be, but it makes me feel sick,” declared Fenn. “I’m going to lie down in my bunk.”
This he did, saying he felt better when stretched out. The other boys followed his example, as the pitching was a little too much for them. They soon grew accustomed to it, however, and presently they noticed that the motion seemed less violent.
“We must have come to anchor,” said Bart.
“More likely we’re inside some harbor,” declared Ned.
They went up on deck and found that, though it was still raining hard, the wind had died down a little, which made the boat ride easier.
“Where are we?” called Fenn, to Captain Wiggs, who was pacing the deck.
“Just entering the Detroit River,” was the reply. “We’ll tie up at Detroit for the night. How are you, boys?”
“Better now,” replied Ned.
As soon as theModocwas well within the river the effects of the blow were no longer noticeable. In a short time the steamer was tied up at a dock and the boys turned in for the night.
Captain Wiggs had some business to transact in Detroit, and spent nearly all of the next day there, giving the boys a chance to go ashore and see some of the sights. They resumed their trip that evening, through Lake St. Clair, and proceeding without stop to Lake Huron.
Emerging well out upon this vast body of inland water, the boys, one bright morning, got a fine view of it.
“Isn’t it—isn’t it big!” exclaimed Fenn. “It’s—it’s simply—”
“Help him out, Ned,” suggested Bart. “You ought to have some big adjectives on hand, left over from that last French history lesson. This is too much for Stumpy.”
“It certainly is a lot of water,” commented Frank. “I thought Lake Erie was big, but this seems to beat it.”
The boys stood at the rail, absorbed in the contemplationof the beautiful scene before them. Captain Wiggs too, though he had viewed the lake many times, could not but admire the beauty of it as it sparkled in the morning sun.
One of the men from the engine room suddenly appeared on deck, and, standing behind the commander, who was explaining something to the boys, waited until the captain had finished.
“Did you wish to see me?” asked Mr. Wiggs, turning to the man.
“Yes, sir. Mr. McDougall told me to ask you to step below, sir.”
“What’s the trouble?” for the man seemed a little uneasy.
“I don’t know exactly, sir, but I think it’s a leak.”
“A leak?”
“Yes, sir. Mr. McDougall thinks some of the forward plates have started.”
“It must have been the storm,” commented Captain Wiggs, as he hastened below. “Yet it’s a good while taking effect. I hope it isn’t serious.”
“Hark!” exclaimed Bart. “What’s that sound?”
“The pumps!” replied Fenn. “They’ve started ’em. It must be a bad leak. We’d better get life preservers.”
“Don’t get excited,” counseled Frank coolly. “Wait until you see how bad it is. These steamers are all built with water-tight compartments, and it would take quite a hole to make one of them sink. The starting of a few plates wouldn’t do it.”
His words calmed his chums, and, when Captain Wiggs came on deck, a few minutes later, he announced that the leak was not a serious one, though it would be necessary to go ashore to make repairs.
It was found, on docking theModocthat the repairs would take about a week, and this period the boys spent in making excursions on shore, in the vicinity of the town. They had a good time,and the delay did not seem very long because of the many interesting sights.
They visited a large saw mill where the logs, that had been brought down the lake in big rafts, were cut up into lumber, and the foreman of the plant showed them the various processes through which the tree trunks went before they were turned out in the shape of boards, planks or timbers.
“Well, we’ll start in the morning, boys,” announced Captain Wiggs one night. “TheModocis in good shape again, and we’ll have to make good time from now on, because of our delays.”
Early the next morning the vessel was under way again. Out on Lake Huron it steamed, plowing through the blue waters, under a sunny sky, while a gentle breeze stirred up little waves.
“Why don’t you boys do some fishing?” asked Captain Wiggs, as he noticed the four chums sitting near the after rail, talking among themselves.
“We didn’t know we could catch anything here,” replied Ned.
“I don’t either,” was the captain’s answer, “but you can’t tell until you try. There is plenty of tackle aboard, and you might land something nice. There are fish in the lake—plenty of ’em. The thing to do is to catch ’em.”
The boys needed no other invitation, and soon they had lines trailing over the stern of the ship, far enough away from the screw to avoid getting tangled in the blades. Mr. Ackerman, the sick passenger, who has improved considerably, also took a line, and joined the boys.
“Let’s see who gets the biggest fish,” proposed Ned.
“Let’s see who gets the first one,” supplemented Bart. “That’s the best test.”
It did not look as if luck was going to be very good, for the lines had been over half an hour, and no one had had so much as a nibble.
“This is getting tiresome,” spoke Ned, as he assumed a more comfortable position in his chair. Then he tied his line to his wrist, propped his feet up on the rail, and lounged back.
“Well, if that isn’t a lazy way of fishing!” exclaimed Frank. “Why don’t you sit up?”
“I will when I get a bite,” replied Ned.
They resumed their waiting, with that patience which is, or ought to be, part of every angler’s outfit. Suddenly Frank nudged Bart and pointed to Ned. The latter had fallen asleep in his chair.
“Let’s play a joke on him,” proposed Fenn in a whisper. “I’ll tie him fast in his chair.”
“No, let’s pull up his line and fasten an oldshoe, or something like that to it,” proposed Frank. “He’ll think he has a big bite.”
They started to put this plan into operation, when, as they were about to pull up Ned’s line, they saw it suddenly straighten out.
“He’s got a bite!” exclaimed Fenn.
“Yes, and a whopper, too,” added Frank.
“Look at it!” cried Bart, as some big fish, at the stern of the boat, leaped out of the water and fell back with a splash.
Then the line about Ned’s wrist tightened. He felt the pull and awakened.
“I’ve got him!” he cried. “I’ve got the biggest one!”
The next moment he went sprawling from his chair, while his arm was straightened out in front of him, for the strong line, to which a big fish was attached, was fairly pulling him along.
“Look out! He’ll go overboard!” cried Mr. Ackerman.
Bart made one leap, and grabbed Ned around the waist. This saved the luckless youth from being pulled over the rail, but it did not release him from his predicament.
“Oh! Ouch!” cried Ned. “It’s pulling my arm off!”
Indeed this seemed likely to happen, for theline was very strong, and the lad had tied it securely about his wrist. It could not slip over his hand, and the fish on the other end was tugging away for dear life. Doubtless it would have been glad enough to escape, but it was fairly caught, for as they afterward found, it had swallowed Ned’s bait, hook and all.
“Let go!” yelled Ned to Bart, who was clinging to his waist.
“If I do you’ll go overboard!” replied Bart. He felt his chum slipping from his grasp. “Give me a hand here!” Bart called to Fenn and Frank.
They jumped to his aid, while Mr. Ackerman, in an excess of nervous fright, ran up and down the deck shouting:
“Captain! Captain Wiggs! Stop the ship! A shark has got hold of one of the boys!”
“What’s that? What’s the trouble?” asked the commander, hurrying up from the cabin.
“A shark has got Ned!” repeated the invalid.
“Shark? In Lake Huron?” replied the commander. “You’re crazy!”
“Guess it must be a whale, by the way it pulls,” said Bart.
“It’s one of the big lake fish!” exclaimed thecaptain. “They’re as strong as a pony. Wait, I’ll cut the line!”
“No, don’t!” begged Ned, who, now that his three chums had hold of him, was in no danger of going overboard, though the thin, but tough cord, was cutting deep into his wrist, where he had foolishly tied it.
“Here, lend a hand!” called Captain Wiggs to a sailor who was passing. The man grabbed the line with both hands and soon was able, with the help which Frank and Fenn gave him, to haul in the fish. It seemed as if they really had a shark on the end of the line, but, when the finny specimen was gotten on deck, it was seen that it was not as large as the boys had imagined.
“Who would have thought it was so strong?” asked Ned, rubbing his chafed wrist.
“The speed of the boat had something to do with it,” said the captain. “You were pulling on the fish broadside I guess, but it is a very strong species even at that. They’re not often caught on a hand line.”
“Are they good to eat?” asked Ned, wishing to derive some benefit from his experience.
“Some folks like ’em, but they’re a little too strong for me,” answered the captain. “However,I think the crew will be glad to get it?” and he looked questioningly at the sailor who had helped land the prize.
“Yes, sir,” replied the man, touching his cap. He took the fish to the galley, where the cook prepared it for the men’s dinner. The boys tasted it, but did not care for the flavor.
“Aren’t you going to fish any more?” asked the captain, as he saw Ned coiling up his line, after the fish had been taken away.
“That’s enough for one day,” was the boy’s reply. “The other fellows can, if they like. My wrist is too sore.”
“Lucky you didn’t tie the line to your toe,” said Frank.
“Why?”
“Because you’d probably be walking lame now, if you had. As it is you can’t sign any checks for a while, I s’pose.”
“Oh, you and your checks!” exclaimed Ned, in no mood to have fun poked at him.
“Moral! Don’t go to sleep while you’re fishing,” said Bart.
“Well, I did better than you fellows did. You didn’t get anything,” retorted the fisherman.