"So I already have observed. You will take that out of him, Mac."
"I'll do that all right, or break his back in the trying. The stoke hole isn't any place for weaklings, as you and I know."
"Keep me posted. I want to know about them. If they make good maybe I'll change them, giving them a berth on deck."
"We'd better give them a good try-out first," advised the chief.
"Certainly."
In the meantime the subjects of this discussion were toiling with might and main far down below the water level. The ship seemed much steadier down there, and there was scarcely any roll perceptible. Had it not been for the terrific heat the youngsters would not have minded the work so much. However, as the day drew on they began to feel the strain.
The gong, announcing the change of watch, sounded loud and startling. They did not give it any heed, but kept right on shoveling.
"Well, are you fellows going to work right through the next trick?" asked the foreman.
"Have we finished?" questioned Bob innocently.
"Until nine o'clock to-night."
The lads put down their shovels with a sigh of relief.
"Is there such a thing as a bath room that we can use?" questioned Rush.
"What? Do you fellows ever wash?" demanded the stoker who had had the words with Steve earlier in the day.
"That depends upon the company we have been in," answered the lad sharply. "Did you tell me about the bath room, sir?"
The foreman could not repress a grin. He pointed up the companion ladder.
"You will find one on the deck above this. First door to the right."
"Thank you, sir."
Steve began climbing up the ladder, followed by Bob and, a few rungs behind, by the surly stoker who had sought to have fun with the Iron Boys and had got the worst of the argument in each case.
Their first trick on board an ore carrier had been gotten through successfully, but it was about the hardest six hours the lads remembered ever having put in. They hurried out into the air before taking a bath. Never had fresh air smelled so sweet as it did that day. The lads were black, the coating of soot on their faces being streaked with perspiration, and their clothes could have been no wetter had they just come up from the sea.
"This is about the limit!" laughed Bob Jarvis. "Here I am, without any eyebrows and half my beautiful locks burned away, all because you and I have ambitions to get on in the world. Honestly, Steve, is it worth it?"
"You know it is, Bob Jarvis," answered the Iron Boy, gazing straight into the inflamed, soot-framed eyes of his companion.
TROUBLE IN THE STOKE HOLE
"I'LL put you to sleep one of these fine days, young feller," greeted the stoker with whom Steve had had the words. The boys had just turned to go to their bath, Bob already having entered the deck house.
"Are you addressing me?" demanded Steve coldly.
"I'm talking to you."
"Forget it," said the lad, brushing past the soot-begrimed stoker and hurrying in to his bath.
That was the beginning of it. Surely Steve had not tried to make an enemy of the man, but he had done so just the same, and an enemy whom he was to hear from ere many days had passed.
Meeting the first mate later in the day Steve asked who the man was.
"The name he gave on coming aboard was Smith. I don't know anything about him. He has never sailed with us before, but I understand he knows his business—that is, he is a good stoker and has been on ships before. Why do you ask?"
"I wondered," answered Steve evasively.
"Has he been bothering you?"
"Oh, no; I am not very much bothered," answered the lad, with a smile.
The boys' cabin was on the starboard or right side of the ship. It was a pleasant little room, commanding a view out over the water. There were two berths in the cabin, a little desk and a couple of steamship pictures, the door of the cabin opening out to the deck.
They felt very much at home in their new quarters, and after the first good sleep there they were ready for anything that might be required of them.
The new stokers took their evening trick, each determined to hold up his end of the work with the rest of the men. And each did. Not a man in that hot, fiery pit shoveled more coal on that watch, or shoveled it to better advantage than did the Iron Boys.
The man Smith shoveled at the furnace door next to Steve Rush, and the former lost no opportunity to hurl rough jokes and taunts at the Iron Boy. These were, in most instances, greeted with howls of delight by the other stokers, who seemed to take the keenest pleasure in seeing the two boys humiliated.
Steve took it all good-naturedly, but Jarvis had to exercise great self-restraint to keep himselfin check. He could hardly resist taking it out of the big bully.
Smith was tall and angular, his small, beady eyes setting more closely together than was good to look upon. In addition to this there was a slight slant to them, giving him almost the appearance of an Oriental.
Steve shrewdly came to the conclusion that Smith was a bad man, and furthermore, the boy decided in his own mind that the man had a past, for Rush was a keen observer, few things passing him unobserved.
All at once, Smith's shovel slipped, showering Steve with coal from head to foot. The sharp edges of the chunks of coal cut the boy's head and one cheek until the blood came.
Rush calmly brushed himself off, wiped the blood from his head and face amid the jeers of the stokers. Then he turned to the grinning Smith.
"Did you do that on purpose?" demanded the lad coolly.
"I reckon it was an accident, kid. What would you do if it wasn't?"
"I am not making any threats, but I hope it will not happen again."
"He did it on purpose," volunteered Bob.
"Never mind, Bob; keep out of this. Mr. Smith had a dizzy spell and he couldn't seewhere he was tossing the coal. He isn't wholly responsible for what he is doing."
Smith uttered a growl.
"You making sport of me?" he demanded, in a surly tone.
"Oh, no; I couldn't think of that, because I don't see anything funny about you. You are the most serious proposition I ever set eyes on."
Smith was not grinning now. His face had drawn down into harsh, menacing lines, his chin settling close to his chest, his eyes narrowing to mere slits. Rush was watching him as the boy carelessly tossed a shovel of coal into the furnace.
Smith drew a long breath, grabbed up his shovel and began firing once more. The critical stage had been passed for the moment, but Rush knew that sooner or later there would be a clash of some sort, and he knew, too, that when it did come the tough stokers would side with their own companion.
Nothing more of a serious nature occurred in that watch, though the boys kept on the lookout for trouble.
It was in the early morning watch, however, when the ship's company was sleeping, all save those who were on watch at the time, that there came a renewal of the trouble—when the threatened disturbance came to a head.
The boys had arranged that when the back of either was turned to the stoker the other should keep his eyes open. This arrangement they had carried out faithfully until four o'clock in the morning arrived. Day was breaking, but the toilers down in the depths of the stoke hole could not see the coming of the day. They would not have noticed it had they been able to for the reasons that their minds were wholly absorbed with other matters.
Suddenly a second shower of coal rained over Steve Rush from the shovel of the man Smith.
Steve turned sharply, fixing his eyes on Jarvis. The latter nodded, meaning that Smith had thrown the coal deliberately.
"That's the time you did it on purpose, Mister man," said Steve in his usual calm voice.
"Well, supposing I did? What you going to do about it?"
"This!"
Whack!
The Iron Boy's fist smote the stoker a powerful blow in the face. Smith toppled over against the hot boiler. Rush saw at once that the fellow would be seriously burned. Leaping forward he dragged the man away, dropping him on the coal heap.
For the moment the stokers were so amazed at the exhibition of strength and skill on thepart of Steve Rush that they could do no more than gape and gaze.
The knocked-out stoker struggled to his feet. His eyes were bloodshot and his face distorted with passion.
"I would suggest that we put off our dispute until we have nothing else to do," suggested Steve. "You mustn't forget that we are on duty now, and the captain will discipline us if we have trouble here."
With a bellow of rage, Smith rushed his young antagonist. The blow that he got this time spun the fellow around, landing him on his face on the coal heap. The blow had reached him before his own fists were fairly up in position. Steve knew that what was to be done must be done quickly. He loathed such fights, but he was among rough men. He had been among rough men ever since he had started out in the mines, and it was a case of fighting one's battles or going down with serious injuries, or perhaps worse. Experience had told him that the quicker such affairs were ended the better for all concerned, and that the man who landed the first effective blow was more than likely to win the fight.
Steve usually did land first.
Bob was dancing about with glowing eyes.
"Please somebody hitme!" he begged. "I'vegot to get into the row. I've got to punch some of you wooden heads, or you'll never be satisfied; neither will I."
"Give them the coal. Bury them!" roared a voice.
Smith leaped to his feet, and stretching out a hand threw open a furnace door.
"I'll give the little fiend a toasting!" he howled.
"No, no—the coal!" protested the others.
The Iron Boys saw at once that matters had taken a more serious turn than they had looked for. The lads slowly backed up against a bulk head, their hands resting easily on their shovels.
"I would suggest that you men had better get to work," said Rush. "The steam will be going down in a minute or so, then you'll hear from the chief engineer."
He had hoped to call them back to their duty, and thus avoid what was before them.
"The coal, the coal!"
With one accord the stokers thrust their shovels into the coal pile.
Ten shovels of hard coal were hurled at the Iron Boys with unerring aim and at almost projectile speed.
"Down!" shouted Rush.
Both lads dropped to the floor of the fireroom, the black chunks of coal passing harmlessly over their heads.
"Let 'em have another! Throw low!"
The stokers sent the next black volley straight out from their hips, which should have reached the mark had the boys adopted their former tactics.
"Dodge between!" commanded Steve.
Jarvis obeyed instantly. In fact, in an emergency, he always looked to his companion for orders.
When they saw that their second attempt had failed the stokers uttered a yell of rage.
"Bat them over the head with your shovels!" advised one.
But Rush had anticipated the suggestion. He was already leaping forward, his shovel cutting the air. He brought its flat side against the side of a stoker's head. The man toppled over, unconscious, and before the men could recover from their surprise two more of their number had fallen victims to the Iron Boy's shovel.
Bob had leaped into the fray by this time. He was swinging his own shovel, uttering a shout each time it came in contact with a head.
"Give ground, Bob!" shouted Rush. "I'll fix them. Just watch out that they don't land on you, or they'll cut your head off with those sharp-edged things."
"I'll hold them! Come on, you black ruffians!"
Steve had sprung to one side of the fire room, where he began tugging at a wheel, from which he unrolled a long, dark object. One end of this he quickly connected to a four-inch pipe, turned a shut-off and sprang out into the middle of the fire room, carrying one end of the object in his hands.
"Quick! Back off, Bob!"
Bob did so. He saw at once what Rush intended to do.
"Give it to them!" he shouted.
THE FIRST STEP UPWARD
The Iron Boy held a three-inch fire hose in his hands. A powerful stream leaped from the nozzle. The first man it hit was bowled over like a nine-pin, the man uttering a choking yell as he went down.
Another leaped at Steve with upraised shovel. He shared the fate of his companion. One after another of them went down under the force of the stream from the fire hose.
It was a kind of warfare that none of those tough customers had ever engaged in before. In a moment the men were yelling wildly, now and then Bob Jarvis's voice raised above the hubbub in a howl of joy. The heat in the fire room quickly turned the water to steam, a dense gray cloud hanging over all, obscuring everything in the room. It was with difficulty that the boy could make out the forms of his enemies.
The men were making desperate efforts to break through and escape by the door, to which Rush had slowly backed. As soon as a man sprang forward Steve would let him have the full force of the stream from the hose squarelyin the face. The stoker would be on his back instantly; then Rush, would play the stream on the others, swinging the hose from side to side to keep the crew back.
All the fight had been taken out of them, but the relentless stream still played on and over them with terrific force.
"Quit! We've got enough!" howled a voice.
"I can't hear," answered Steve, playing the hose from one end of the cringing line to the other. "I'm going to turn on the hot water soon, I don't believe this cold water will take all the dirt off."
"Skin them alive!" jeered Jarvis.
There came an interruption. The howls of the men, having reached the upper deck, had attracted the attention of the chief engineer. He had come running down the companion ladder, believing something serious had happened in the engine room. He was met by a cloud of steam.
"What's going on here? Have you blown out a tube?" he shouted.
"No; I'm blowing off some rowdies, that's all. Bob, shut off the water. The fun's all over."
Macrae grasped Rush by the collar.
"What does this mean? I'll discharge you at the end of the cruise."
"I am sorry, sir; but those men attacked us and we had to fight them the best way we could. I thought a shower bath would do them more good than anything else, and cool them off quicker."
"Get to work there, you lazy lubbers. Your steam is twenty pounds below the mark. I'll fine the lot of you. Rush, come up to the deck, I want to talk with you."
"I would suggest, sir, that you hear what the men have to say first."
"How did this row start?" demanded the chief engineer.
"He turned the hose on us, jest because he got a grouch on against us."
"That's a lie!" exclaimed Jarvis.
Mr. Macrae motioned for Steve to accompany him. The boy followed up to the deck where the chief led the way to his office and cabin.
"Now, I'll listen to the story. You have done a very serious thing; you have imperiled the safety of the ship and laid yourself liable to arrest and ironing. What have you to say?"
"I acted purely in self defense. It was a case of defend yourself or get my head knocked off. I chose the former. I am sorry I was the cause of the steam going down, but we can put on more steam in a few minutes. I couldn't do the same for my head."
"Tell me exactly what occurred."
Rush did so, omitting the name of the stoker who had been the real cause of the uprising. Mr. Macrae listened with grave face until the story of the trouble had been told.
"Who started it?"
"I would rather not say. I do not think he will start anything else very soon. He got about all that was coming to him."
"I should say he did. However, this is a matter that will have to be laid before Captain Simms. Go back to the fire room. I will accompany you and see that matters are straightened out."
This the chief did.
"The next man who starts any disturbance here will be put in irons!" said Mr. Macrae sternly. "This applies to every one of you. I shall lay the matter before the captain, as it is. He will act as he thinks best, but it is my opinion that the whole gang of you ought to be thrown off the ship at the first stop. You may be, at that."
As soon as the captain rose, the chief told him the story of the battle in the stoke hole.
"What, those two boys did up the whole crew of ten men down there?" exclaimed the master.
"That's about what it amounted to."
"Most remarkable thing I ever heard of!But I will guarantee they never started the row."
"No, I think not. Both boys refuse to say who did."
"Good for them. I knew they had the right kind of stuff in them. Pity we haven't got more like them."
"What do you think best to do, sir?"
Captain Simms reflected for a moment.
"Being convinced that the stokers are wholly to blame, I shall fine each of them a day's pay. You may so inform them."
"And the two boys also?"
"No. Why should they be fined? You can't blame them for defending themselves. What time do the boys come off watch?"
"Nine o'clock."
"Tell them to report to me after they get fixed up."
"Very good, sir."
Captain Simms went to his cabin, where he related to the first mate the story of the fire room row. Both officers laughed heartily.
"I would have given a month's wages to have seen that fuss," laughed the mate. "I guess the black-face gang has come to the conclusion that it has picked up a couple of Tartars. Evidently it isn't the first time those lads have been called upon to take care of themselves."
Before the stoke hole watch knocked off the captain made it his business to go below and look over the men. Every man save the Iron Boys wore a sullen, revengeful look on his face. But this was not all. There was blood on several of the faces, and the men's clothes and hair still bore traces of the shower bath that Steve Rush had given them.
Neither lad paid any attention to the captain. They went on with their work as steadily as though he were not present, or nothing out of the ordinary had occurred.
The captain turned away rather hastily and left the compartment. He felt that, if he remained a second longer, he would have to laugh. That would not do at all. And laugh he did, after he had gotten far enough away from the fire room to make wise such a proceeding.
"I'll get even with you for that!" snarled Smith in Rush's ear, after the departure of the master.
Steve made no reply.
"You'll wake up one of these fine mornings wetter than I was after you turned the hose on me, you whelp!"
Smith drove his elbow into the Iron Boy's side with considerable force. Rush slowly faced him.
"Look here, you loafer, I'll knock you downif you do that again. Or, if you prefer it, I'll give you another bath. You are trying to pick a fight with me. I am not looking for it, but if you insist I'll give you what you want. Fight or stop!"
Smith glanced uneasily at the door leading from the fire room, muttered something unintelligible to the others and began shoveling coal into his furnace.
Shortly after that the watch ended. Steve hurried through his bath. After putting on his clean clothes he called on the captain. The latter looked over the slim, well set-up young lad quizzically.
"I didn't think it of you, Rush."
Steve flushed painfully.
"You wish to see me, sir?"
"Yes. Be careful. In this instance let me say very frankly that I am glad you cleaned out that lot. The only trouble is that you ought to have thrown the whole gang overboard. We can't spare them, or I might have done it myself before this. I'm going to take you two boys off the stoke hole watch."
"What do you wish us to do, sir?"
"I will promote you to the deck."
THE IRON BOYS ON DECK
THE lads began their work above decks on the following day. It was a welcome relief to be out in the open air, with the wind blowing over them, the soft odors of the inland seas mingling with the faint perfume of the land drifting out from the unseen shores.
The first work of the Iron Boys was to remove the hatches that the sun might penetrate the hold and dry out the ore, which had been put in very damp. Ore in that condition did not handle easily, taking up time and costing considerably more to handle than when dry. Steve pondered over this all during his first forenoon's work. Here was something that ought to be remedied. His fertile brain was at a loss to solve the problem. He talked the matter over with Jarvis after luncheon, that day, and asked his companion's opinion.
"That's easy," answered Bob promptly. "Put a stove in."
"Where?"
"In the ore pockets on the trestles."
"That would be fine," grinned Steve. "But you have given me an idea. I will think it over.There is a point that it will pay us both to think over very carefully. Have you seen anything of our friends from below decks this morning?"
"No; I guess they must be sleeping."
"Look out, Bob. We haven't heard the last from Smith. He is a vengeful fellow and he will try to get even with us. I hope he doesn't ship with us on the return trip."
"I'll punch his head for him if he gets funny with me."
"I don't like the man's looks at all. It is my opinion that he is a desperate character."
"Well, so are we, for that matter," replied Jarvis with a mirthless grin.
"I am beginning to think so myself, old chap. It seems almost impossible for us to keep out of trouble. I, for one, am going to stop it. Next time any rough argument is started I'm going to run."
Jarvis laughed uproariously.
"I think I see you doing it! Why, you wouldn't run if you saw a herd of elephants charging you. No, sir—not Steve Rush!"
At about four o'clock in the afternoon the boys were ordered to assist in replacing the hatches to make all snug for the night. The vessel was slipping down Lake Huron, now, at an eleven-knot gait. There was a gentle roll onthe sea, but neither lad minded that. Neither would suffer further from seasickness, they felt sure.
The hatches having been made secure there was nothing more to be done for the rest of the afternoon. The lads were free to go where they pleased and do as they pleased. They repaired to their cabin, where they remained until supper time. They now ate with the ship's officers, the stokers and oilers having a mess-room by themselves. The officers' mess-room was a roomy apartment at the extreme stern of the ship, and the food served there was excellent. The boys did not remember ever to have had better.
Mr. Major, the first mate, occupied the lower end of the long table, while the captain sat at the head. There was little conversation. The principal business was eating, sailors having a habit of shoveling in their food as fast as possible when it is placed before them.
The result was that Steve and Bob, being accustomed to eat slowly and chew their food well, were not half through when the others rose from the table.
"Going to eat all night?" demanded the captain, with the suspicion of a smile on his face.
"Oh, no," laughed Rush. "Not quite so long as that, I hope."
"How about you?" questioned the master, nodding at Jarvis.
"Well," answered Bob reflectively, "as nearly as I can figure it I am about amidships between soup and pie. If I don't fall through the centre hatch before I reach the pie end I'll be on deck about seven o'clock."
The officers laughed heartily.
"Do we go on duty this evening, sir?" questioned Rush.
"Certainly," replied the captain. "You take your regular tricks just the same. You two will take the forward watch at nine o'clock."
They had never been on watch before, and did not know what their duties were to be. So, after finishing their supper, they hunted up Mr. Major and asked him to explain their duties to them. He told them that all they had to do would be to watch out for lights ahead and either side of the ship, ring the hours on the ship's bell just forward of the bridge, at the same time glancing back at their own ship's running lights to see if all were burning brightly. The mate told them how to report this, giving them some other suggestions at the same time.
"This is fine," glowed Bob. "We're going to walk the bridge at midnight, aren't we?"
"Rush will have the bridge watch," explainedMr. Major. "You will take the deck just forward of and under the bridge. It is not hard work in good weather, but it gets to be rather lonesome at times. I shall be on duty in the pilot-house during your trick. If you are in doubt at any time be sure to call out to me."
Both promised that they would. It was with keen anticipation that the lads made their way forward from their cabins a few minutes before nine o'clock.
"Second watch changed," called the watch who was on the point of retiring.
"Aye, aye," answered the officer in charge in the pilot-house. All was dark in there so the men could see ahead, the windows of the captain's cabin having the shades pulled tight so that not a single ray of light could shine out ahead to blind the eyes of the lookouts.
"All clear ahead. Steamer heading up the lake off the starboard bow."
"All right," answered Steve as he took his place at the rail of the bridge. "I guess she won't run into us."
"Watch for that steamer's red light off to starboard," warned a business-like voice from the blackness of the pilot-house.
"I will," replied Steve.
"Say, 'aye, aye, sir.'"
"Aye, aye, sir."
"That's right. We observe all the forms on board these ships just the same as they do on the high seas."
"What's all that talk about up there?" called Bob Jarvis, from his post in the bow on the deck below.
"You are to keep watch of that fellow off to starboard," answered Rush.
"Starboard? Let's see—that's the left side, isn't it?"
"No, the right."
"Oh, I guess that's right."
"Tell the watch below to 'tend to his business," warned the mate in the pilot-house.
"Forward watch, knock off talking," called Steve.
"Don't get funny up there or I'll come up and straighten you out."
"Bob," called Steve softly, "the officer will be down there in a moment if you don't stop your nonsense. This is business. Keep your eyes on the water and call out whenever you see a light. I——"
"Ship, ho!" sang out Jarvis suddenly, interrupting what Steve was saying.
"Lower watch reports a ship, sir," sang out Steve.
"Where away?" demanded the mate.
"Where away?" repeated Steve.
"Oh, 'bout a mile off the right-hand side," answered the lower watch nonchalantly.
"He means the vessel off to starboard, sir," Rush informed the officer in charge.
"Has that wooden-head just discovered the ore carrier over there?"
"I guess so, sir."
"Pshaw! You keep your eyes open."
"He will be all right after he gets settled down to it, sir," said Steve apologetically.
"We're likely to be sent to the bottom before that time, if we wait for him to keep us out of trouble."
The ship sailed on. Now and then Steve's keen eyes would sight a green or red or a white light, and under the instruction of the mate he quickly learned to determine the position of the boat from her lights, enabling him to say instantly which way the other ship was traveling. After a while the captain entered the pilot-house.
"Who's on the forward watch?" he demanded.
"Rush on the bridge, Jarvis in the forward peak."
"Keep a sharp lookout. They are new men."
"Aye, aye, sir. Rush is all right. He has eyes like an owl at night. Trust him for not letting anything——"
"Red light dead ahead," called Rush.
"What do you make of her?"
"Nothing more, sir."
"That's one of the Wyckoff coal fleet," announced the captain, leaning from the pilot-house window. "She's headed for Shoal Island."
"How in the name of all that's good does he know all that?" muttered the boy on the bridge. "I can't see a thing but the red light, and that means that her port beam is almost across our bow. I don't see anything else."
"I suppose you are wondering how I know that, eh?" chuckled the captain, nodding to the lad pacing the bridge just below him.
"Well, yes, sir; I was wondering," admitted Rush.
"Do you make out her white lights!"
"No, sir."
"That's where I have you. There is a bank of fog or mist settling over the lake. If you will raise your eyes a little to the right of the red light you will make out two faint blurs——"
"I see them, sir."
"Those are her masthead lights. I know the set of the masts of the Wyckoff boats, that's all. So will you, after you have been at sea long enough. It is all a matter of experience. I have been drilling up and down these lakesfor the past thirty years. I ought to know a few things about them and the fellows who are navigating them. It's going to storm."
"Yes, sir," agreed the lad, but he did not see any signs of rain. The stars were bright overhead and the moon was shining brightly. "I see I have a few things to learn about the weather," he muttered.
A few minutes later Steve discovered that the moon and the stars had suddenly disappeared. The captain knew they would, for the wind had veered to the southeast and he had seen the fog bank settling down since the first moment he entered the pilot house. The rain started in shortly afterwards in a thin drizzle.
"Hey, up there, it's getting wet down here!" shouted Bob. "Hand me down an umbrella or something."
"Keep a sharp lookout, lads," warned the captain. "Remember we've got a load of coal across our bows."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered Steve. "I think I can see quite a way ahead of us."
"That is a mistake. You can't see a ship's length ahead. Keep your eyes open."
"I will, sir."
"Where is your raincoat?"
"I am afraid I have none. I never thought to bring one with me."
"Tell your friend Jarvis to go to my cabin and ask the steward for two coats."
Steve did so, and a few minutes later the lads were well protected from the storm, which was now upon them in full force. The rain was coming down in blinding sheets by this time, beating into the faces of the Iron Boys.
Suddenly Steve leaned over the edge of the bridge, shading his eyes with his hand. Something that he thought he had observed in Bob's position had attracted his attention. He gazed more keenly, then uttered a little gasp. Jarvis was standing with his head down, facing away from the storm toward the stern of the ship. He looked very comfortable and contented.
"Bob!"
Steve's tone was stern.
"Bob!"
"What do you want?"
"Turn around and be quick about it!" Steve was speaking too low for the officers in the pilot-house to hear. "Don't you know that the safety of the ship depends largely on our watchfulness at this minute, and——"
"Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang clang," interrupted the ship's clock in the pilot-house.
Steve grasped the cord attached to the clapper of the big bell in front of the bridge, giving it six steady jerks.
"Six bells, eleven o'clock. All lights are burning brightly, sir," Rush called in the singsong voice of the sailor.
"Aye, aye," answered the deep voice of the mate from the darkness of the pilot-house.
"Reduce speed to one-half," commanded the captain, in a low voice. He usually gave his commands calmly, no matter how great the stress or emergency. "Do you see anything of that coal carrier, Rush?"
"No, sir; she must be some distance away from us by this time."
"She ought to be, but she isn't."
"May I ask how you know that, sir?"
"I get her smoke."
"I don't make it out, sir."
"Neither do I, by sight, but I see it through my nose. I smell it."
"Well, doesn't that beat all!" muttered Rush.
He bent every energy toward piercing the black bank ahead. For the first time Steve Rush experienced a sense of uneasiness, and for the first time he realized what the perils of the sea meant. Before, it had seemed to him that, unless a ship were laboring in a great storm, there could be little danger. Once a minute the siren far back in the darkness, near the engine superstructure, would wail out a long, dismal blast which, a moment later, was answered bythe ship out there somewhere ahead. The sound of the other boat's siren did not seem to Steve Rush to be getting any nearer, but to the experienced ears of Captain Simms quite the contrary was plain.
"Look steady, down there!" he warned in a sharp tone which told Rush there was something that he did not know about was likely to happen.
"Look sharp!" he repeated to Bob Jarvis.
"I'm looking. I'm——"
Steve Rush's voice cut in quick and sharp, though there was little trace of excitement in it.
"Sheer off! Ship dead ahead!"
"Hard a-port!" commanded the captain, at the same time sounding a long wailing blast on the siren.
A deafening crash followed almost upon the command.
THE CRASH IN THE FOG
STEVE was thrown flat on his face on the bridge, while Bob Jarvis doubled up, wedged into the forepeak of the boat on the deck below.
"Full speed astern!" roared the captain.
The chains of the pilot-house telegraph rattled ominously and the propeller, nearly six hundred feet aft of the bridge, began whirling the other way at tremendous speed.
"Hey! What—what—what's happened?" shouted Bob Jarvis. "Have we hit the shore?"
"Close the water-tight bulkheads!" commanded Captain Simms. The mate threw over the electric switch that gave the signal for the closing of all water-tight doors and bulkheads.
"Sound the general alarm!"
Gongs began to ring all over the ship.
"Order the engine and stoke room crews to stand by their tricks. I'll give them warning in time in case we have been badly hit."
The mate obeyed quickly and without a single lost motion. By this time Steve had leaped to his feet. Ahead of him, it seemed almost on top of them, loomed a great black hull. Lightsshone dimly through the heavy pall of fog. He understood without having to be told what had happened. The "Wanderer" had come into collision with another ship, presumably the same one whose lights the bridge watch had been watching off to starboard earlier in the evening. Even in the excitement of the moment Rush did not understand how this thing could have happened, if the other boat had held to the courses she was on when he last saw the other boat.
"Make ready the lifeboats!" commanded the captain of the "Wanderer." Then, raising his megaphone to his lips, the master bellowed through it:
"Are you hard hit?"
"We have a hole punched in our side big enough for you to go through. Stand by until we can find out whether we'll float or not."
"Aye, aye, we'll stand by. We want to find out how much of a smashwehave got. Mr. Major, get down there and examine the nose of our boat, and see how much of a bang we got. It's lucky for us that we hit the other craft in the position we did."
The mate hurried down to where Bob was still on watch. Even after the crash had come, and he had picked himself up, Jarvis stuck to his post, though he believed the ship to be sinking.And, besides, Bob being right at the point of the collision, so close in fact that woodwork from the other boat showered over him in a perfect rain, got the full force of it. He was bruised and battered, he had lost his hat and he was greatly shaken up by the terrific impact.
The "Wanderer" had backed away to a safe distance, and the first mate was now making an examination of her wound.
"We've broken our nose off," he called up to the bridge.
"Is she taking in any water?"
"Yes, sir; but I think the bulkhead will hold it so we won't go down."
"Good! Ahoy, coal carrier there."
"Aye, aye," came the reply from the deck of the stranger.
"Who are you?"
"The 'James Macomber,' coal laden, bound for Shoal Island."
"Well, I must say you are doing some fine steering. What are you doing over here?"
"We got out of position in the fog."
"I should say you did. How are you?"
"Listing badly to port and settling by the stern."
"Better get your boats over while you have the time. Shall we put over a boat?"
"No; we can manage to get away if she goes."
"I tell you, you're going down! Get away while you've got the time."
"All right; stand by."
"Can I do anything, sir?" asked Steve.
"Yes; go aft and take two men with you. Take the boat and cast off. Lay well away from the ship and give me a hail, so I'll know where you are. Stand by and, mind you, don't drift away and get lost. We'll never pick you up in this fog if you do. Understand?"
"Yes, sir."
"Order Jarvis up to the bridge."
"Bob, come up here. The captain orders you to take the bridge."
Steve ran down the ladder to the forward deck, then on down to the main deck, where all hands not otherwise engaged had assembled. They were leaning over the side peering into the darkness to see what had happened. Steve was beset by questions. He explained briefly what had happened, repeating the captain's orders for himself and two men to man the life-boat and put off to pick up any one needing assistance.
The second mate, then in charge of the deck, assigned two strong oarsmen to go with Rush. The latter was to be in charge of the boat, so the captain had said, though Steve was dubious about his ability to fill that office. Of coursehe was interested in boats, but he was much more familiar with drifts and levels than he was with navigation of the lakes.
"Man the boat," ordered the second mate.
The men took their places in the life-boat, which already had been hauled up ready for launching, the Iron Boy taking his place in the stern by the tiller.
"Are you ready?"
"All ready."
"Cast off!" came the hoarse command from the second mate.
Steve instinctively grasped the gunwales of the life-boat as the craft dropped toward the water. He thought the boat had broken loose from the davits and was falling into the sea, so swift was its descent. Yet he might have known from the sound of the groaning, creaking block and tackle that he and his companions were still safe.
The life-boat struck the water with a loud splash, rocking perilously as Steve, still gripping the sides, stood in a crouching position ready to jump should the boat tip over. Then the little craft righted itself, though it lay rising and falling, rolling and tossing perilously on the long lake swell. Rush had no idea that the water was so turbulent.
"Cast off!"
The two oarsmen quickly unhooked the blocks from the rings at the extreme ends of the small boat.
"Are you ready?" they asked.
"Yes," said Steve, though he was not certain whether he was ready or not. His mind worked with its usual quickness, however. He knew that he was expected to get off somewhere near the steamer "Macomber."
"Give way!" he commanded.
The sailors pushed the life-boat away from the side of the ship with their oars; then, placing the oars in the locks, fell to pulling steadily. Steve turned the tiller the wrong way the first thing. The nose of the life boat hit the hull of the "Wanderer" with such force as to throw the three men to the bottom of their boat.
"Lubbers!" bellowed the second mate from the deck of the ship. "What are you trying to do—run us down?"
Steve's face was burning with mortification. Fortunately the night was too dark for any one to see this.
"What's the matter with you?" demanded one of the oarsmen.
"I turned the tiller the wrong way," answered Rush truthfully. "Pull away."
The men growled as they fell to their oars once more. A few swift strokes and they wereclear of their ship, Rush this time handling his tiller with more skill than before. He tried the rudder cautiously and found that it responded readily to the least movement of the tiller.
"Now I'm all right," he muttered. "That is if I don't run something else down."
Swinging out in a wide circle the lad steered around the bow of the "Wanderer," heading for the spot where he thought the distressed ship lay.
"Lifeboat there!" bellowed the captain through his megaphone.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Where you heading?"
"For the other ship."
"No you're not. You're heading for the shore. Pull to port a little more. There, that's better. Look where you are going, now."
The captain's tone was stern and commanding. Steve leaned well forward, peering into the thick fog ahead. He could not make out the other ship as yet, though he could hear the shouting and the hoarsely uttered commands on her deck. It was a scene such as he had never imagined before, and it thrilled Steve Rush through and through. He felt that he was ready for deeds of valor if he should only get the chance to perform them.
"Steady, men," the boy warned. "We must be near the other ship now. I can hear their voices more plainly. It is curious we can't see their lights, though."
"That's because of the fog, cap'n," volunteered one of the sailors at the oars.
"They're——"
"Look out! We're under the stern of the ship now!" cried Rush, throwing his tiller hard to port.
The life boat hit the stern of the ship, far down under her counter, with a resounding crash. There followed the sound of breaking woodwork, as the gunwale of the lifeboat crashed in. The little craft shipped a heavy sea, drenching all hands.
The sailors had dropped their oars and were preparing to jump.
"Sit down!" commanded the young skipper.
"We're sinking!"
"Well, if we are, let's get in a better place to do it. We don't want to be floundering in the water under the stern of this sinking ship, do we? Get to your oars and pull away!"
The Iron Boy's voice had assumed a tone of command. The men, recognizing that he was not alarmed, bent themselves to their oars and pulled quickly from their present dangerous position.
"Have we anything in the boat with which to bail it out?"
"No."
"Then we will sit in the water. I guess we can't be much wetter than we are."
The men grumbled.
"Lay to, till I find out how badly we are injured."
A brief examination of the side of the boat that had come in contact with the ship, showed that the gunwale had been smashed in, but the gash did not extend far enough down to place the little boat in great danger unless perhaps the sea rose high enough to wash over the side. As yet the lake was rolling lazily as is usually the case in a fog, for a breeze would quickly dispel the heaviest bank of fog and drive it away.
"We're all right," decided the young coxswain. "Pull around slowly."
Standing up in the stern of the life-boat with the tiller between his legs, Steve hailed the disabled ship.
"Ahoy, there!" he called.
"Ahoy! Who are you?"
"Life-boat from the 'Wanderer.' If you want any help, sing out."
"We'll need it all right."
"Are you sinking?"
"We don't know. We're settling some."
"Got much water aboard?"
"More'n we need to drink. Come in closer, so we can get you if we need to."
"How about your own boats?"
"Life boat smashed in the collision. Ship's raft is safe. That'll carry most of us, perhaps all of us, if necessary."
"Better get it ready, then, in case anything happens," advised the lad, who was rapidly becoming a seasoned sailor. "Pull in a little closer, boys, but look sharp because we may have to get out in a hurry, in case anything happens over there."
The boat drifted slowly in toward the injured ship. This time the little craft had worked around abeam of the coaler, the latter's lights showing dimly in the thick fog.
"Keep your siren going to warn off other ships, why don't you?" shouted Rush.
The suggestion was a good one. It was instantly acted upon by the master of the "Macomber." Then the "Wanderer" started her siren going, the hoarse voices of the whistles sounding dull and unreal through the fog.
Steve grinned appreciatively.
"At least I have made one good suggestion," he muttered. "There will be no excuse for any other ship hereabouts running into us. That would be a nice mess."
Suddenly there arose a commotion on board the damaged coaler. The shouts grew louder. The crash of a steel hatch falling into place could be heard here and there. A loud splash sounded between the life-boat and the ship.
"Somebody's overboard!" cried Steve. "Pull in!"
"Life-boat there!"
"Aye, aye!"
"We're sinking by the stern!"
"Pull in quick, lads!" commanded Steve Rush.
A TRAGEDY OF THE LAKES
THERE followed a sound as though the wind were suddenly rising. The sound grew to the roar of a gale.
Rush did not understand the meaning of it. He did understand, however, that there was a man in the water near by, and that there was a human life to save.
"Where are you?" he called.
"Here! Be quick!"
Rush had the fellow by the collar, in short order, and with some difficulty, hauled the man into the life-boat.
"The ship's going down. Get out of here!" cried the rescued sailor.
"Pull out, boys!" commanded Rush, grasping the tiller and swinging the bow of his boat about.
"There she goes!" shouted the sailor from the "Macomber."
The huge coaler's lights suddenly went out as the sea flooded her dynamo room. The hatches began blowing off with loud explosions as the water was forced up under them.
"What is it?" cried Steve.
"The hatches."
Boom!
"There goes the main bulkhead. It's all up with her now."
Yells and cries rent the air. Men were leaping into the sea from the doomed ship, and though the men in the life-boat could not see, they could hear.
"I can't stand this!" gritted the Iron Boy, jamming the tiller hard over.
"What are you going to do?" demanded one of the sailors.
"I'm going in there after those men," answered Steve Rush.
"It's sure death!"
"We'll go, just the same."
"No we won't; we'll pull out of here like lightning."
Steve grabbed up a boat hook.
"Pull, I tell you; pull for all you two are worth, or I'll knock your heads off with this hook. Now—GO!"
The oarsmen pulled. They were used to obeying orders, and they realized that the young coxswain of their craft was no weakling. He meant exactly what he had said. Besides the men, after all, were as anxious to save those of their own calling, now struggling in the water, as Steve could possibly be.
The bow of the life-boat sent the water spurting into the air as the craft cut through the sea. Another man was hauled aboard.
"Where's the rest of them?" demanded Rush.
"The water's full of them," gasped the rescued sailor.
"Ahoy, there, men—swim this way if you can. We're waiting for you. We'll——"
With a sickening roar that Steve Rush would never forget as long as he lived, the "Macomber" dived stern first under the surface of the water. Her engine and boiler rooms, being at the stern, were flooded instantly.
Then came a report as if the universe had been suddenly rent in twain, an explosion that seemed to rend the air, the earth and the sea.
"The ship's blowing up!" cried one of the men in the boat. He knew what the sound meant. Steve did not, but he caught his breath sharply when he heard the words.
"Pull out!"
Instead, the life-boat was lifted out. It seemed to rise right up into the air, and when the Iron Boy at the helm sought to throw the rudder over there was not water to push against—only thin air.
"Hang on! We're going over!" shouted the boy.
Cries for help were heard on all sides of the life-boat now. But Steve was powerless to aid the drowning ones. He was concerned with saving himself and those with him just at this time.
The boat continued to go into the air; then, suddenly, it swung bottom side up, spilling its human freight into the lake.
As the men of the life-boat fell into the water they were caught by the suction of the sinking ship and borne struggling about in the great eddy that swirled with the speed of a mill-race.
Steve fought valiantly to save himself by trying to swim out of the whirlpool, but even his great strength was not equal to the task. He was tossed to the centre of the eddy; then he felt himself being drawn downward by some invisible force. Even then the Iron Boy did not lose his presence of mind. He caught and held his breath as the waters were closing over him.
Down and down shot the body of Steve Rush until he believed he must be near the bottom of Lake Huron. Hours seemed to have been occupied in the descent, whereas it had been a matter of seconds only. He had made no resistance, calmly deciding to save his strength until action would count for something.
Steve had no thought of giving up. While hisheart was filled with a great dread he was not excited, because he would not permit himself to be.
"I'll die game, if I do die," he kept repeating to himself.
At last the pull from beneath seemed to be lessening a little. There was not the same terrific force tugging at his feet. Steve kicked out and the effort, he thought, raised him a little.
Thus encouraged he began kicking with all his strength, treading water and working his hands as fast as he could. There could be no doubt about it now. He was shooting toward the top at a good speed.
Suddenly he gave a great gasp as he felt the warm, damp air strike his face. His lungs were almost at the bursting point, and he felt that he could not have held his breath a second longer.
Steve lay over on the water, on his back, moving his hands listlessly to help keep him afloat. Thus far he had had no thought of the ship to which he belonged. He was too much exhausted to do more than lie still, which he did, drawing in long, deep breaths of the fresh air. Nothing had ever tasted so sweet to Steve Rush and he felt an overpowering desire to go to sleep.
All at once he threw himself over on his stomach as the long, shrill blast of a steamer's whistle smote his ears.
"It's the 'Wanderer'!" he cried. "And they must be miles away."
The ship was not very far away. It was the blanket of fog that had smothered the sound of the whistle and made it seem many miles off to port of him.
Rush raised his voice and shouted. His voice, of course, carried for a very short distance, for the same reason that had made the ship's whistle sound a long way off. Again and again did he shout, but not a response did he get, save the long wail of the siren. Not a light was to be seen anywhere, nor were there any signs of the other men who had been in the life-boat with him at the time it was lifted from the water and turned bottom side up.
A great feeling of lonesomeness came over the Iron Boy when he realized that he was far out in the lake alone. He, of course, did not know how far they were from shore, but he believed it to be at least twenty miles.
He reasoned that his ship would not sail away without him unless the captain were reasonably certain that Steve had been drowned. The lad decided to swim in the direction from which the whistle sound had come. He had taken but a few strokes when he became entangled in a mass of wreckage. At first he thought he was going to drown before he could extricate himself, then he discovered that he could not if he tried.