Steve Clung to the Door.
Pieces of floating wood were all about him,some of them the lad recognized as part of a deck house. He fastened to a door that had been split in half, probably by the explosion, and stretching out full length upon it, lay still to rest. He was reasonably safe now, though, of course, unless he were rescued very soon he would become chilled and slip off into the sea.
The wind began to stir up out of the southwest a little. Steve took courage from this.
"It will blow me toward the ship," he exclaimed. "That is, if the ship is where I think it is."
He began paddling with might and main, steering with his feet as well as he could, shifting his weight this side and that from time to time as a swell threatened to upset him.
The siren blew several long blasts.
"That's queer," muttered Steve. "She seems to be getting farther and farther away from me all the time."
The reason for this was that Rush was getting farther and farther away from the ship. He was propelling himself along in the wrongdirection. As the fog began to race on ahead of him he took a look over the waters that now showed white ridges as far as the eye could penetrate. Not a light could he see, save one bright light dead ahead of him. The light winked, went out, then suddenly appeared after a few seconds interval.
"There's the ship!" he cried. "But, oh, how far off it seems to be."
What Steve could not understand, was that he did not see more than one light. Both masthead lights, at least, should have shown. He decided that the side light, the red and the green, were too low down for him to catch a glance at over the tops of the rising waves.
"I'll swim for it anyway," he decided, settling to his work with all the strength that was in him. It would be useless to waste breath in calling, because those on the ship could not hear him at that great distance.
Suddenly the wind abated, the fog rolled back over the lake, again enveloping the swimmer in a dense black mantle. The sea was still running with him, however, and would continue to do so for some time to come, thus helping him along.
After a couple hours of paddling and drifting, during which Rush made considerable headway, the lad realized that he was getting tired. Furtherthan this he was cold and chilled. The chills extended from his head to his feet.
"This won't do," Steve cried, confusedly. "If I get much colder I shall fall off my ship and drown."
He began paddling with renewed vigor, but, work as he would he seemed unable to throw off the chill. He realized, too, that his body was getting numb. The Iron Boy fought desperately, but the more he fought the more drowsy did he become. His efforts grew less and less and his progress slower.
Steve wrapped both arms about the door and with cheek pressed close to it, resigned himself to what he thought would be a few minutes' rest. His heavy eyelids closed slowly; his breathing grew regular, but faint and his legs stretched out full length, being in the water up to his knees.
Steve had given way to the languor that was creeping over him. He was adrift and alone far out on the treacherous water of the great lake.
TOSSED UP BY THE WAVES
THE light that Steve Rush had seen, the winking, twinkling light came from the lighthouse on North Point. The North Point light was a revolving affair, which accounted for its vanishing and then reappearing at stated intervals.
A few hours passed, though they were as seconds to the unconscious boy on the slender raft. At last he began to feel a glow spreading over his benumbed body. He moved a little, took a long breath then settled back into his former stupor. But the warmth continued to spread. Steve felt a sense of being on fire. After a while he realized that the support under him was no longer moving, though he could hear the roar of the waves in his ears. He found himself dimly wondering why they did not break over him and drench him and chill him to the marrow.
Steve tried to raise one hand to his head, but the hand was pinioned so that he could not move it. His curiosity was becoming aroused. Rush opened his eyes. Before him and above him was a rocky, precipitous coast. Then in a rushof understanding he realized that he was lying on the rocky shore of the lake coast. Both hands were still under the door, which accounted for his inability to raise one of them a few minutes since.
The sun was beating down hotly, warming the Iron Boy's blood, sending it more rapidly through his veins.
With a cry of thankfulness Steve Rush got unsteadily to his feet. He was so stiff that he could hardly stand, though the numbness of a few hours since was fast passing away.
"I have been carried to the shore and I'm saved!" he shouted. "This is the most wonderful thing that ever has happened to me. But I wonder where I am."
It was early in the morning, that was certain. He judged the hour must be about seven o'clock. His watch had stopped at midnight. Turning quickly the lad glanced out over the green waters of the lake that sparkled in the morning sunlight, a gentle ripple ruffling the surface. Here and there a huge ore carrier was observed, working its way up or down the lake. Far in the offing thin ribbons of gray smoke told where other vessels were steaming along.
"I wonder if any of those ships is the 'Wanderer'?" mused the Iron Boy. "And I wonder something else, too—I wonder whether I am goingto get any breakfast or not. It is useless for me to try to signal a ship in here. They probably would not come in even if they saw me, as I imagine this is shoal water all around here. There must be some one living about here somewhere. I'll start on a little exploring tour for breakfast."
Steve turned away and began climbing up the rocks. This being his first passage over the lakes, he was not at all familiar with the coast and consequently had no idea where he was.
In the meantime the ship had sailed away. The "Wanderer" had lain to until the first gray dawn of the morning. A few of the men had been saved, including two of the sailors in the boat Steve had set out in. All the others in that craft had been lost, as were the greater part of the crew of the lost steamer. The men rescued from the life-boat were of the opinion that Steve Rush had gone down with the others.
Bob Jarvis said not a word. His face was pale and drawn. He went about his duties methodically, speaking to no one, but listening to every word that was said about the tragedy.
After cutting wide circles for a full two hours the "Wanderer" was put about on her interrupted course.
"South south-west one half," announced the skipper in a low tone.
The words meant to all who heard them, that he had abandoned the search—that the missing men had been given up for lost. Their names would be added to the list of fifty thousand souls who have lost their lives on the Great Lakes during the last fifty years.
Captain Simms' face was grave. He had taken a great liking to Steve Rush. He had lost, as he thought, three men, the first loss of life on a ship commanded by him since he had been in the service of the company as a sailing master.
"Mr. Major, you will report the accident and the loss of the men as soon as we reach the St. Clair River," he said.
"Aye, aye, sir."
Captain Simms left the pilot-house, from which point of vantage he had been sweeping the waters of the lake with his glasses, and went down to his own cabin to turn in for a few hours' sleep.
In the meantime the object of the thoughts of nearly every man on board, Steve Rush, was climbing to the top of the rocks that lined the coast. Reaching there he sought the highest point attainable and looked about him.
"I am on an island!" he exclaimed. "From the looks of things I am the only person here.Well, thisischeerful, but it is much better than being out yonder," he added with a gesture toward the rippling waters of Lake Huron.
Rush decided to investigate his island the next thing he did. So he climbed down to the beach again and began following the coast line. As he went on he found traces indicating that some one had been there. There were chicken bones and the charred embers of a recent fire in one spot. Steve came to the conclusion that fishermen had been on the island not long since. If this were so there were hopes that they or some of their kind would visit the place again. Steve walked the greater part of the day. On one side of the island he saw a large bay. Across a point of what he judged to be the mainland, he could see another bay and beyond that a cloud in the sky that looked like smoke.
"There must be a large town or a city over yonder, but I don't know what it is. I do not even know whether I am in the United States or Canada."
All day long the lad tramped. When night came he was hungry, stiff and weak. Had it not been for his splendid constitution and great endurance he would have given up long before that.
Just before dark he caught sight of a small sailboat slipping easily along, headed, hethought, for the larger bay on beyond the narrow point of land.
Steve hailed the craft. One man in the stern of the boat stood up and gazed shoreward through a glass. Rush swung his arms and shouted that he wanted to be taken off the island. The man in the stern calmly closed his glasses and sat down, while the boat held steadily to her course.
Steve sat down, too. He was not so much discouraged as he was angry and disgusted.
"Why couldn't he have sailed somewhere so I wouldn't have seen him, instead of drifting by so tantalizingly near me?" he cried.
There being no answer to the question, Rush began looking about for a place to sleep. The best he could do was a spot just under a ledge of rock. The boy went down to the beach and brought back his life raft, the piece of a deck house door on which he had floated ashore. This he carried up to his bedroom under the ledge and stood it against the rocks.
"That will do very well, in the absence of something better," he decided grinning as broadly as the drawn muscles of his face would permit him to do.
Then Steve crawled under this rude shelter, drawing his coat as closely about him as possible and went sound asleep.
Steve was exhausted bodily and mentally, andit was not to be wondered at considering what he had gone through in the last twelve hours. Besides this he had had nothing to eat since supper on the previous day.
The following morning Rush did not awaken until the sunlight warmed his bedroom. He crawled out, rubbed his eyes and looked about him.
"Well, if it isn't morning! But maybe it's the next morning; maybe I slept a day and a night."
He had now lost all track of time. Steve sat down to think matters over calmly. His position was a serious one and he understood that full well.
"If I remain here another day I shall be unable to get away," he mused. "Then I shall in all probability starve to death. That won't do. I don't propose to give up as long as I have any strength left in me, and I guess I have a little, even after what I have passed through."
Rush sat studying the narrow stretch of water separating him from the slender neck of land that he had observed the day before.
"It can't be more than three miles across there. If I had had a good meal this morning I believe I could swim across to the other shore. That looks to me like the mainland. There issurely something on beyond there several miles away. I wonder if I dare try to swim it?"
A little reflection convinced the lad that such an attempt could end but one way—he would drown before he reached the neck of land.
His eyes roved about, after a while resting reflectively on the piece of deck-house door that had served his purpose so well after the sinking of the steamer. A look of new-found intelligence gradually grew in his eyes.
"The very thing! Hurrah!" he cried, springing up and dancing about, forgetful for the moment, that he needed all the strength he had left. "I swam on the door all night. Surely I can stand a few hours more on it in the bright sunlight. Why didn't I think of it before?"
Rush lost no time in acting upon the suggestion that had come to him. He grabbed up the cabin door and began staggering down the rocks with it. The door was heavy and he was weak. Once he stumbled and fell. The door went clattering down over the rocks, Steve bringing up in a heap some distance above it.
"There, I'll bet it's broken. If it is I'm done for."
But the door was not broken. It was tough enough to stand the hard usage to which it had been subjected. Steve was after it with a shout as soon as he saw that it had not been split.
After that he proceeded more carefully;within a few minutes he reached the beach with his burden. There the lad paused to think over the best way to go about his own rescue. He took off his coat slowly, folded and placed it on the door, then removing his suspenders he tied the coat fast to his raft.
"There, I think that's all I had better take off or I shall get chilled again."
After a final, sweeping glance at the sea, the lad shoved the raft, or rather one end of it, into the water and sat down on the beach to rest and gather courage for the great undertaking before him.
"It beats all what a man will do for the sake of a meal," he grinned. "I might stay on this island all summer, and have a pretty good time, were it possible for me to get along without food. But, no; I've got to eat or I'll die. Well, here goes."
He shoved the door out into the water, pushing it along ahead of him until the water was up to his shoulders. Rush then slid his body up on the raft and began paddling with his hands and kicking his feet, pushing himself along, heading around a curve of the island, for the extreme narrow point of land jutting out into the lake.
BY PLUCK ALONE
AFTER half an hour of steady paddling, Rush shoved his coat up for a pillow and lay flat on the slender raft to rest himself. He was breathing hard from his exertions; in fact, he was well nigh exhausted. But the Iron Boy's pluck was of the same quality as ever. Nothing could weaken that, no matter how dire his predicament.
"I could make better time swimming," he mused, raising his head a little and gazing longingly at the shore that now seemed farther off than before, "if I only dared. I don't mean that; I do dare, but it would not be prudent. I want to get to the mainland, and I think my present method is the best one to get me there. Well, I must start the engines going again," decided the lad, grinning at his own humor.
Had any one chanced to be looking in his direction from the shore, that person probably would have thought he was gazing upon some strange creature from the deep, for Steve was making the water foam all about him. His head and the end of the board were all that were visible above the surface. Once he paddled sofast as to cause him to lose his balance. His raft turned turtle, landing Rush on his back in the water. Laughing almost gleefully at his own misfortune, the lad, in a few swift strokes, regained the door.
"That was just so much effort wasted," he remarked. "I must remember that I am not running a race. I ought to be in pretty good trim for one, though; if I get through with this one I shall be fit for most any kind of an old race that I come across."
For the rest of the journey Steve made no attempt to spurt. He paddled along steadily, making slow but sure progress toward the goal on which his eyes were continually fixed.
The sun was at its zenith when, slipping from the board, he found solid rock under his feet. Steve tried to shout, but he was too worn to raise his voice. He clung to the door until it grounded with a grating sound on the beach. Steve lay there for a few minutes. Then he staggered to his feet, making his way up the beach a few feet from the water, there to throw himself on the ground exhausted.
For nearly two hours he lay resting, having fallen into a deep sleep. Then he awakened, sat up, resting his head in his hands for one last little wink, the wink that was to give the lad the strength and courage to take up his journey.
"Hello, what's the matter?"
Rush started up suddenly. He saw before him a boy somewhat younger than himself, dressed in rough clothes. The boy was carrying part of a fish net.
"Say, I'm glad to see you, and don't you forget it," exclaimed the Iron Boy, striding forward and grasping the hand of the other lad, much to the latter's astonishment. "Who are you?"
"I'm Billy Trimmer. I am a fisherman—me and my father."
"Do you live near here?" asked Steve eagerly, with visions of a meal before him.
"Nope. We live over yonder," pointing to the cloud of smoke that was now much more plainly in evidence than before.
"Is that a town over there?"
"Yes."
"What is the name of the town?"
"Alpena."
"Oh! And what do you call that little island over yonder?"
"That one with the stones sticking up all over it like a porcupine's back?"
"That describes it. Some of them are sticking into me yet."
"That's Little Gull Island."
"How far is it to Alpena?" questioned Rush.
"'Bout ten miles."
Steve uttered a long, low whistle.
"What's the easiest way to get there?"
"Hoof it. Ain't no other way."
"That's too bad. Is there a house anywhere near here where I could buy something to eat?"
"Nary a house. But you kin git all you want over to Alpena."
"Thank you very much. I think I will be going."
"Say, where'd you come from?"
"From the lake—out of the lake. I was drowned out there last night, or pretty nearly drowned. A steamer went down and I was carried under——"
"A steamer?"
"Yes."
"Which one?"
"The 'Macomber,' I think it was. Coal laden and——"
"I must tell Pa," and the fisher boy was off on the run.
Steve gazed after the lad reflectively.
"I'd give a ten-dollar bill to anybody who would tell me how to run like that now. Poor Bob, I'll bet he's eating his big heart out for sorrow over my disappearance." Steve paused. "They think I'm drowned, of course, they do, and I ought to be. It must have been intendedthat I should be, but somehow I didn't arrive on schedule time."
Chuckling to himself, the lad started on toward the city, ten miles away. He tried to make himself forget his weariness by whistling and singing. Coming to some willow bushes, he cut the stiffest small branch he could find, from which he trimmed the nubs, then started on, whipping his legs with it.
This seemed to start the circulation, and at the same time to take his mind from his own weariness. After a time the wet, swollen shoes began to chafe his heels, and it was not very long before the skin had been worn from both heels. Then a blister suddenly bobbed up on the ball of the right foot.
The boy took off his shoes and tried to doctor the sore spots, but there was nothing he could do save tear up his handkerchief and bind up the affected parts.
"A boil on my nose, now, would just about complete my misfortune," Rush grinned. "I'm going to carry my shoes in my hands."
This did not work very well, for Steve's feet were sore and the rocks over which he was walking made his feet more tender than ever, so he put the shoes on again. They had shrunk, of course, and the putting on was attended with a great deal of pain. Steve Rush did not evengrunt. He drew them on almost roughly, stamped in them and jumped up and down.
"There, I guess that'll fix that blister, anyway. I wish I could jump on the sore spots on my heels and cure them as easily."
He started, and kept on without another stop until three o'clock in the afternoon, when Rush halted for a drink of water at a little creek that crossed his trail.
It was a sore and very much dilapidated young man who crawled into the town just before supper time that evening. Realizing that his appearance was far from prepossessing, Rush sought the back streets, following them in so far as possible, keeping an eye out for a hotel that he thought might be respectable.
He found such a place after some searching about, during which the policemen he passed had eyed him suspiciously.
Steve entered the place, which proved to be a farmers' hotel, and asked if he could get supper and lodging there. The man behind the desk eyed the lad narrowly.
"You've made a mistake young fellow," said the clerk.
"How so?" inquired Steve innocently.
"You should go out and see the hostler. Maybe he'll put you up. We don't keep your kind in here."
Several bystanders laughed at the boy's expense. But Rush never flinched.
"Oh, I beg your pardon, sir; I thought I was in the stable. This must be where you herd the other lower animals. I see they are all here."
Before any one could recover his wits sufficiently to make a retort, Steve had stepped out of the place.
Next the boy tried a restaurant. He got no further than the desk when he was held up by the proprietor.
"Hold on; where are you going?"
"I wish something to eat," answered the boy politely.
"You're in the wrong place, and——"
"No, I am not. That's what the fellow told me the last place I called at. They can't both be the wrong place, so this must be the right one."
The proprietor of the place stepped out from behind his desk, laying a firm hand on Steve Rush's shoulder. A peculiar glint shot into the eyes of the Iron Boy, but he stood still.
"We can't serve you here. This is a gentlemen's restaurant. Perhaps you will find something that will suit you down on the south side."
"I have money, sir. I am willing to pay for what I get. I have been in a shipwreck and am not very presentable——"
"I can't help it; you'll have to get out."
"See here, sir, I shall not get out until I have had my supper. I have had nothing to eat in twenty-four hours, and I'm hungry."
"Go on, go on; don't raise any disturbance here."
Steve walked over and laid a five-dollar bill on the desk.
"There's your money in advance. Give me the change after I have finished my supper——"
"I said I couldn't serve you here. I——"
"Oh, yes you can, and what's more you're going to."
"I'll call a policeman and have you put out."
"Look here, Mister Man, unless I get some supper here quickly, I'll have the law on you. You are keeping a public house, and you have no right to turn me out."
Steve didn't know whether he were right or not, but he took a long chance. He saw at once that he had made a good point, so he pressed it further.
"I am going to sit down at that table over there, and I shall expect to be served at once."
The proprietor's hand fell from the Iron Boy's shoulder as the latter strode to the nearest table and seated himself. A waiter stepped up to him asking what he would have, at thesame time thrusting a bill of fare on the table in front of the boy.
"I think I'll take about five dollars' worth of ham and eggs," answered Rush without a trace of a smile on his face.
ON THE ROAD TO CONNEAUT
STEVE had no further difficulty at the restaurant, though he noticed that the proprietor of the place was watching him and scowling at him all through the meal.
"I usually get what I go after," thought the boy. "In this case it is food."
After paying his bill he hunted up a clothing store, where he fitted himself out with a new suit, shirt, necktie, straw hat and a suit of underwear, for everything that Steve had on was practically ruined. This, with a pair of shoes purchased at another store, made him look quite like his usual self.
Arrayed in his new suit Steve had no difficulty in getting into one of the best hotels in the city. He left a call for six o'clock that he might catch a train to Detroit, where he hoped to catch the "Wanderer."
He nearly missed the train next morning, because of his longing for a cat nap. Arriving at Detroit he visited a newspaper office and inquired if the ship had been sighted.
"Passed down during the night," was the discouraging answer.
"Where for?" questioned the boy, as the ships usually got their destination orders when they passed Detroit.
"Conneaut. See here, you are not one of the men who were on that ship are you?" questioned the newspaper man.
"Thank you, sir. I will be going. Can you tell me what time I can get a train for Conneaut?" answered Rush, avoiding the question.
Steve felt that he would be called upon to make a report of his share in the disaster, and his good judgment told him that he should not make a first statement to any one outside the company.
The next train out did not leave until late in the afternoon, so Rush employed the time in going about the city. He visited all the places of interest, getting his luncheon at a large hotel on the hill. The hotel was named after a famous Indian Chief, but the prices asked for the luncheon made Steve gasp.
"My wages would keep me here about three days," he muttered.
Later the lad boarded a train and hurried toward his destination. He did not know whether he should find his ship in port or not, reasoning that the craft would have to proceed under reduced speed the rest of the way down on account of the smashed-in bow.
Shortly after dark the boy arrived. Inquiring his way to the ore docks, he hurried down toward the inlet. This was a narrow canal, leading up into the lower part of the town for some distance. Ships were packed in the inlet, side to side, like sardines in a box. Most of them were lying with anchor lights up; others with their running lights still lighted, showing that they had just arrived in port. On either side of the inlet loomed the dark trestles, from some of which the rattle and roar of unloading machinery arose in a deafening chorus.
"This is about all a man's life is worth to face," decided Steve, as he dodged a swiftly moving car that towered above him loaded with ore. Then he narrowly missed being ground under a traveling crane that was in operation unloading a ship.
"Can you tell me, sir, if the 'Wanderer' has arrived?" asked the boy of a yard policeman who approached the lad to find out what he was doing there.
"She's outside the harbor now. I heard her whistling for a tug a few minutes ago. But we don't allow strangers in the yards here. It is too dangerous."
"I belong on the 'Wanderer,'" explained Steve.
"Oh, you do, eh?"
"Yes."
"Then what are you doing here?"
"Waiting for her."
"When did you leave her?" questioned the officer suspiciously.
"A couple of days ago, somewhere about the middle of Lake Huron. I went down when the wreck occurred."
The story of the wreck and the sinking of the coaler had by this time been spread all over the country. The policeman gazed at the boy with wondering eyes.
"You don't say?"
"Yes, sir."
"Tell me about it."
"I am sorry, but I think I had better say nothing until I have talked with Captain Simms. Do you know where the 'Wanderer' is going to berth?"
"See that pig there, just shifting her position?" referring to a whaleback, the latter style of boats being known to sailors on the lakes as "pigs," because of their pig-like bow.
"Yes."
"The ship you want is coming into that berth. See, there's a crowd of reporters waiting around there now to interview the captain."
"I guess I'll keep out of their sight, then," laughed the lad.
Steve paced up and down the dock keeping well in the shadow, watching the channel with eager eyes. He could hardly wait until the ship got in, so anxious was he to relieve the anxiety of his companion, Bob Jarvis.
"There she comes," announced the policeman.
Steve shaded his eyes and gazed intently. Yes, sure enough it was the "Wanderer." He could make out her broken nose now and the peculiar set of her sticks. The lad had never before realized the size of the ship. She seemed to loom up in the air higher than any of the buildings on the opposite side of the inlet. All was dark on board her, no light save her running lights showing; but up there in the darkened pilot-house Steve knew, keen, cautious eyes were watching out for the safety of the boat as well as for the safety of others in the harbor.
Rush heard the rasping sound of the bridge telegraph as the signal was given to reverse. The spring-rope came whirling through the air and a moment later the big hawser struck the water with a splash, being quickly drawn to the dock by the dock hands.
All this was very interesting to Steve Rush, for it will be remembered that he had never watched the docking of an ore boat before. The figure of Mr. Major, the first mate, was faintlyoutlined at the rail, looking down and giving orders to the men on the dock in a sharp, business-like tone.
"Put out the ladder!" the mate commanded.
The ladder came over the side, and was let down carefully until it rested on the dock. Before any of those on board had an opportunity to go over the side Steve had sprung to the ladder, up which he ran nimbly, swinging over the rail to the deck of the "Wanderer."
"See here, young fellow, what do you want?" demanded the mate. Then he leaned forward, gazing keenly at the newcomer.
"Wha—what——"
"Steve!" screamed Jarvis, rushing across the ship and throwing his arms about young Rush. Jarvis was so overcome with emotion that for the moment he found himself unable to utter another sound.
"Rush!" cried the mate, fairly pulling the boy away from his companion and wringing both Steve's hands. "Why, why, we thought you went down with the coaler."
"I did. I guess I'm too tough to die. I surely have had plenty of opportunity to do so."
"Wait till I get through docking the ship, and then tell me all about it."
"I must see the captain first. Is he up in the house?"
"No; I think he just went down to his cabin."
"Were any of our men lost?"
"Two of them. Jarvis here leaped overboard and saved four men from the other ship, who were drowning while trying to swim out to us."
"Good boy, Bob," said Steve as he patted his companion affectionately. "You must tell me all about it when we get to our cabin, by and by. I have had some experiences, too, some that will make you laugh."
Others of the crew were pressing forward to shake the hand of the plucky Iron Boy, for both boys were popular with all hands save the stoke-hole crew.
"I must see the captain, Bob. I'll be back in a few minutes."
Steve hurried up to the forward deck, rapped on the door and was bidden to enter. Captain Simms looked, then blinked rapidly as his eyes fixed themselves on the boy framed in the cabin doorway.
"Hello, is that you, Rush?"
"Yes, sir."
"I thought there wasn't water enough in Huron to drown your kind."
"No, sir."
"Come in and sit down. I want to talk to you."
IN THE GRIP OF A GIANT SHELL
BEFORE Captain Simms would permit the lad to leave him, he had to hear the story of Steve's experiences. The story was frequently interrupted by grunts of approval on the part of the skipper. The latter was not an emotional man, as was evidenced by his greeting of Rush after the boy had, as it were, risen from the lake.
Rush's story finished, he asked the captain to tell him all about what had occurred after the accident.
"It isn't what did occur so much as what's going to happen," answered the master gloomily.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I shall lose my license."
"What, and you not to blame? Impossible."
"Yes, but how am I going to prove that I am blameless?"
"The authorities will believe what you say, will they not?"
"They have just as good a right to believe the captain of the other boat. He will say it was my fault, and perhaps I shall say it was hisfault, and there you are. Both of us will lose out in the end. The other skipper was saved and I am glad of it. It seems too bad that, after all these years on the lakes without a blemish on my record, I have to be knocked out at this time. My wife and little girl will be heart-broken."
"Perhaps it will not be so bad as you think, sir. Of course, we are all deeply grieved over the loss of life. That cannot now be helped. It is our business to find out where the blame is and fix it there, no matter whom it hits. I know one whom I am pretty sure it will not hit."
Captain Simms squinted at the lad.
"Who?"
"Yourself."
"Rush, you're a fine fellow. I like you," announced the skipper, with something approaching enthusiasm in his voice as he stepped forward and grasped the hands of his deck man in a grip of iron. Steve thought he had a pretty good grip himself, but his own was as nothing compared with that of the captain of the "Wanderer."
"I reported the accident from Detroit, and was ordered to proceed to destination if able. I haven't heard anything from headquarters yet. I shall hear something in the morning, as soon as our arrival here is reported."
"When do we unload?"
"They begin in about an hour."
"Then I must get into some old clothes and get ready for work."
"You need not go on duty to-night, unless you wish to."
"I prefer it. You see, I have been idle for a couple of days and I shall get out of practice," replied the boy, with a good-natured laugh.
"Idle! Humph! After swimming half way across Lake Huron, being drowned into the bargain, walking almost across the state of Michigan, going without food for twenty-four hours, not to speak of a few other little things—then to talk about being idle. Go back and tell the cook to set up the best on the ship. After you have had a good meal you may go to work, if you wish. I suppose you'll not be satisfied unless you do. Go on with you. Tell the first mate I want to see him."
An hour later found Steve in his working clothes. The cranes for unloading were just being moved into place when he reached the deck. These were huge affairs, each provided with a giant scoop that gulped a little mouthful of some fifty tons of ore every time its iron jaws were opened.
There was a rattle and a bang as the hatch covers were being ripped off and cast to the far side of the deck; men on the trestles were shouting,whistles were blowing in the harbor, gasoline launches conveying ship's officers to and from the other side of the inlet, were exhausting with vicious explosions. Steve thought he had never seen such confusion before, yet he knew full well that there was in reality no confusion about it. Everything was being worked out in keeping with a perfectly arranged system.
"Rush, you get down in the hold and take charge of the unloading," ordered the mate.
Steve hurried below. The hold was dimly lighted by an electric light at either end. He did not know exactly what he was expected to do. The great scoop dived down, swallowed a mouthful of ore and was out with it like some huge monster, almost before Rush realized what was going on.
"Whew! That's going some!" he exclaimed. "There comes the thing again. Hello, up there!" cried the boy, with hands to mouth. "Hadn't you better take out some from the other end so as to unload the boat evenly?"
"Yes, that's what we've got you down there for, to watch things," shouted a voice from the deck. "You're all right. Keep it up!"
"I don't know whether I am, or not," muttered the boy making his way over the ore to the stern of the hold. "This strikes me as being a dangerous sort of spot."
He watched the huge steel lips of the scoop as it felt about like the lips of a horse gathering the oats from its manger, quickly grabbing up its fifty tons of ore then leaping for the trestle some fifty feet above, where it dropped its burden into cars waiting to transfer the ore to the furnaces.
Load after load was scooped up. The rattle and the bang of the unloader was deafening. It made the Iron Boy's ears ache.
"According to the speed at which we are unloading, now, we should be finished in about four hours," he said. "This is the most wonderful mechanism I ever saw!"
There came a lull, during which the ship was moved further astern, in order that the unloader might pick up ore from the forward part of the hold. By the time this had been done, and the huge crane shifted to its new position, nearly an hour had been lost.
The boy pondered over this for some time. It seemed to him like an unnecessary loss of time.
"Why, so long as they have one crane at an unloading point, should they not have more?" he reflected. "This is worth looking into."
He thought he saw where a great improvement could be made, and he decided to think it over when he had more time. Perhaps he couldsuggest something to the officials that would be of use to them after all.
Steve and his companion, while working as ordinary seamen, were drawing the same fine salaries that they had received in the mines. Therefore the boys felt it was their duty to earn the money being paid to them by doing something worth while. They were getting three times as much as was paid to the other men doing similar work.
As Rush was thinking all these things over the lights in the hold suddenly went out, leaving the place in absolute darkness.
"Lights out!" he shouted.
A rush of air fanned his cheek. He raised a hand to brush away some object that seemed to be hovering over him. It was as if invisible hands were groping in the dark, feeling for the Iron Boy's face to caress it. Steve instinctively crouched down as low as he could on the ore. There was little of it beneath him, the greater part having been removed by the giant shell of the unloader.
Suddenly with a groan and many creakings the object whose presence he had dimly felt now closed over him.
"The unloader!" cried Steve. "It's caught me! It's caught me!"
STEVE SAVES THE CAPTAIN
FORTUNATELY for Steve Rush the load scooped up by the unloader, chanced to be a light one, only a few tons being in the scoop itself. That left him head room so that he was not crushed against the upper side of the giant shell. Still, his quarters were cramped and the sensation was, if anything, more trying than had been that when he found himself alone in the waters of Lake Huron.
"I'm done for this time, I guess. Hello, there! Stop the machine! I'm caught!" he shouted.
In the groaning and creaking of the great crane his cries for help were unheard. Steve felt himself being borne swiftly through the air. Up, up swung the great shell, swaying dizzily from side to side after it left the deck of the ship. As it passed out of the hold Steve uttered a shout louder than the others. He was not frightened, but, as was quite natural under the circumstances, he wanted to get out of his unpleasant predicament.
Bob Jarvis, who was at the rail, heard the cry. He divined the truth instantly. Springingto an open hatch he leaned over, bellowing out the name of his companion into the hold. There was no response. Bob did not believe there would be.
"Stop it! Stop it!" he shouted.
It is doubtful if the crane man heard, and if he did he failed to understand, for the big shell kept on mounting to the top of the trestle.
"What's the matter!" demanded the mate. "You're enough to raise the dead."
Jarvis did not stop to answer. He sprang for the side of the ship, leaped over the rail, and, catching the sides of the ladder, shot down to the pier without touching a single rung of the ladder. The instant his feet touched the pier the lad darted off to the trestle. A cleat ladder extended up the side of the trestle to the top. Bob ran up it like a real sailor and rushed over the ties to the place where the train was being loaded for the furnaces.
In the meantime, Steve Rush had been hoisted to the top. He knew what was coming. The lad braced his feet and shoulders against opposite sides of the scoop, hoping thereby to hold himself in place. He had forgotten that the shell would open up at the proper moment in order to discharge its load—would open up so wide that not even a fragment of anything would be left within it.
Suddenly the great jaws of the shell opened with a crash and a bang. There followed the roar of rushing iron ore as it dropped into the waiting ore car on the track.
Rush dropped like a stone. He landed in the railroad car, half buried under the ore, dazed and bleeding from the sharp pieces of ore that had hit him on the head during his descent.
"Hey there, stop it, stop it!" shouted Jarvis, running toward the spot as the crane was swinging the scoop off toward the ship for another load.
"Stop what?" demanded the foreman of loading.
"You've dumped a man from that scoop! Which car was it?"
The foreman laughed easily.
"I guess you must be crazy."
"Which car is it, I say? Answer me quick. He may be killed, or——"
"That's the car right there, the last one filled and——"
But Bob was bounding toward the place with desperate haste.
"Steve! Steve!"
"Ye-yes, I'm IT again," answered a muffled voice, dragging himself from the ore, shaking the dirt from him.
"Look out for the shell! It'll be on you againbefore you know it," warned Jarvis. He had heard the creaking and groaning of the machinery, sounds, which told him the big scoop was on its way upward again with still another load of the red ore.
Rush staggered to the edge of the car.
"Jump!" commanded Bob.
Steve did so, not knowing where he would land, but with perfect confidence in his companion's presence of mind. No sooner had the lad cleared the car than a load of ore was dumped on the spot where he had been standing but a few seconds before.
Bob grunted as the heavy body of Steve Rush landed full in his arms, causing the former to sit down heavily on the trestle with the dirt from the dumping shell, showering over them.
"Good for you, Bob! You saved my life. Let's get out of this place."
"I am perfectly agreeable to that. How do we get down?"
"There are two ways. One is to jump off and the other is to go down the ladder. The latter is the way I'm going. Perhaps you prefer the other, judging from your past performances as the horsemen would say. You have made some pretty good records as it is."
Bob made for the ladder, followed by Steve. When the two boys climbed over the rail to thedeck of the ship, the first mate gazed at them in astonishment.
"I thought you were down in the hold, Rush."
"So I was," laughed the boy.
"What did you come out for?"
"I couldn't help myself. I went up in the scoop, which caught me when the lights went out down there. Something is the matter with your electric arrangements down there, I guess."
Mr. Major gasped.
"You don't mean you went up in that thing?"
"I guess I do."
"He got dumped on an ore car," added Jarvis by way of explanation. "And he lives to tell the tale."
"Get down in the hold. The ship is listing to port. They are taking too much out on that side. Jarvis, you run back and tell the engineer to have his electrician find out what is the matter with the lights in the hold. Look out for yourself, Rush, this time. I am beginning to think you are a hoodoo."
"And I am beginning to hold the same opinion," answered the Iron Boy.
"If you keep on we won't be able to get a sailor to ship on the same craft with you."
"I don't know that I should blame them muchfor feeling that way. Trouble is tied to my heels, but somehow I manage to get through on a pinch," laughed the boy, hurrying for the stairway that led down into the entrance to the ore hold.
The ship was fully unloaded at midnight. All hands were dirty, dusty and tired when they started aft to wash up and get ready for bed.
"Where's that soogy barrel?" yelled one of the deck hands, meaning the receptacle holding hot water, well soaped, from which the men filled their basins for washing.
"It's down in the engine room being steamed out. There's another one down in the lazaret. We'll fetch it up and have it filled before those lubbers down below get the old one ready."
"We'll help," cried Steve. "Come along, fellows. I guess the whole crew ought to be able to get the barrel up without calling any of the dock hands to help us."
They started away, laughing, and the barrel was hoisted from the lazaret or storeroom near the stern of the vessel, quickly filled from a hot-water pipe and a good portion of the contents distributed among the men.
In another hour all hands save the anchor watch were sound asleep, the captain with the stoicism of the sailor, sleeping as soundly as the rest, notwithstanding the fact that he mightwake up in the morning shorn of his command, a disgraced man.
Instead, on the following morning the "Wanderer's" master received a message from Duluth ordering him to report immediately for a hearing. He was instructed to bring with him certain men of his crew. There was no time to be lost. Without waiting for breakfast the captain ordered Mr. Major, the first mate, the Iron Boys and the wheelman on duty at the time of the collision to make ready to accompany him to Duluth at once. The message further stated that the ship would be taken to Duluth for survey and repairs by a master who was then on the way to Conneaut.
The party got away within a few minutes, the second mate being left in charge, and thirty minutes later they were on their way to the north.
The examination took place that evening immediately after the arrival of the officers and men from the "Wanderer."
The examination was to be a strictly company examination, but the government officers in charge of the licensing of pilots on the Great Lakes were on hand to listen to the testimony and to decide whether further investigations were necessary. Mr. Carrhart and the superintendent of the line of steamships belonging tothe company were present to take an active part in the investigation.
Captain Simms was the first witness called. He gave his version of the accident, explaining the position of the ship, the course it was sailing on at the time and all other facts in his possession. The fact that he was on duty at the time, and that the ship was sailing under reduced speed, was a point in his favor, though it did not by any means serve to relieve him of the responsibility for the accident.
"Who was on the bridge at the time of the accident?" asked Mr. Carrhart.
"Stephen Rush. Jarvis was on watch in the forepeak."
"We will hear Rush next," said Mr. Carrhart.
The Iron Boy was called in from an adjoining room, where the witnesses had been placed. When a witness finished his testimony he was permitted to sit down in the room and listen to the proceedings. This Captain Simms did. Steve took his place in the witness chair.
"You were on the bridge watch on the night that the 'Wanderer' collided with the 'Macomber,' were you not?" asked the superintendent, who was conducting the examination.
"Yes, sir."
"State what occurred."
Steve, in a clear, firm voice that carried conviction with it, related briefly and tersely all that he knew of the collision. He omitted his experience in drifting ashore, but a few questions from Mr. Carrhart served to draw out that most interesting recital. All hands listened attentively.
Each face, as the narrative proceeded, expressed silent admiration for the wonderful pluck and endurance of the Iron Boy. But his hearers did not feel surprised at what he had accomplished after they had studied the firm set of the lips, the square-cut jaw and the clear, steady eyes.
"You had sighted the side lights of the 'Macomber' some time before the collision, had you not?"
"Yes, sir; about half an hour before the crash came, I should say, roughly speaking."
"What was the position of the two ships?"
"I don't know that I can explain it so that you would understand. I can draw a diagram of it if you wish."
"Do so."
Rush quickly outlined the position of the two ships on a pad of paper and handed it to his questioner.
"Do you know what the course of your ship was?"
"Not so that I could name it. I would know if I had a compass—I mean I could point it out."
The superintendent called for a compass card, which a clerk brought from his office. Steve studied it a moment, turning the card around until he had placed it in the desired position.
"This is where we were, up to the time the fog came down and we couldn't see anything more," he said, placing a finger on a point on the card.
"But you were on the bridge. How could you know this?" demanded the questioner.
"I was watching the bridge compass, trying to learn something about it. You see, this is my first experience on a ship and I was anxious to learn all I could."
"Then your course was south-south-west-one-half?"
"I don't know, sir. The little mark on the compass rim was on the point that I have indicated, previous to the time the fog settled."
Thus far the lad's testimony had corroborated all that the captain had said.
"Have you had any talk with Captain Simms as to what you should testify to?" interrupted one of the government representatives.
"Certainly not, sir," answered the boy flushing."Captain Simms is not that kind of man. He expects me to tell the truth, and that is what I am trying to do."
"We understand that, Rush," interposed Mr. Carrhart, soothingly. "You are giving us some valuable information. The gentlemen merely wish to get at all of the facts."
"Now, Mr. Rush, let me understand this clearly. You say that the course was south-south-west-one-half just before the fog settled?"
"Yes, sir, if that is the course indicated by that point," again placing his finger on the compass card.
"Am I to infer then that the course was changed after the fog came down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Ah!"
The spectators straightened up at this. Their faces were grave. An important piece of evidence had been brought out. It might be against Captain Simms, or it might be in his favor. All depended upon the boy's further testimony.
"What was the course after the change?"
Steve again pointed to the card.
"We swung over to this point."
The superintendent and the government representatives examined the point indicated by Steve very carefully.
"South-south-west flat?"
"If that is it, yes sir."
"Captain, you may answer where you are. Did you change your course as indicated by Rush?"
"I did. The boy is right. He hasn't eyes in his head for nothing. He sees more than any one else on my ship does."
"Did you think what the reason for that change of course was?" demanded the superintendent, again turning to Steve.
"I thought it was to make sure that we should clear the other ship."
"Yes; according to the position of both vessels, the 'Macomber' had the right of way," interjected the captain. "I changed the course to clear them, and I should have done so. I don't understand, yet, why I did not."
"Why did you not tell us of this in your testimony?"
"I did not think of it."
"Even though it was in your favor?"
The captain nodded.
The captain of the lost "Macomber" was called in.
"What course was your ship steering when the collision occurred?" he was asked.
"I supposed it was the course as indicated on the report made by me."
"You were in your cabin asleep?"
"Yes, sir."
"Who was on duty in the pilot-house?"
"The mate and the wheelman."
"They were lost?"
"They were."
"You know of no reason why they should have changed their course so as to throw your ship squarely in front of the 'Wanderer'?"
"No earthly reason."
"They were thoroughly capable and experienced men?"
"Yes, so far as my observation went."
"You admit that the course of your ship was changed, do you not?"
"If what the young man and Captain Simms say is true, our course must have been changed. I cannot but think the mate must have lost his head, or else failed to note the position of the compass while he was busy peering ahead. That is probably the explanation, the wheelman forgetting himself in looking ahead also. He knew there was a ship under their bows; both knew it and they were naturally anxious."
"You would not have mentioned this had not the young seaman Rush brought it out?"
"I might not have, because I did not know it. It puts the matter in an entirely new light."
"You admit, then, that your vessel was inthe wrong?" interposed one of the government officials.
"I am obliged to, granting that the statements we have heard are correct, and I have no idea that they are not. While I am responsible for the safety of my ship, I do not see how I can be held accountable for the disaster. I did not know there was a fog and no word was brought to me to that effect. A man must get sleep at some time, and what better time than when the skies are fair and the sea is calm?"
The officials cleared the room, after which they went into executive session with the government men. Their discussion lasted little more than half an hour. The two captains were then sent for, the witnesses being allowed to enter the room also.
"Captain Simms," announced the superintendent of the steamship line, "we find you free from all blame in this matter. You did all that you could. You let your ship swing off sufficiently to have cleared the 'Macomber'; you were under reduced speed, and you were at your post where you should have been under the circumstances. Besides this, you and your crew did heroic service in rescuing the men of the ill-fated ship. You lost two of your own men in so doing and nearly lost a third. Especialcredit is due to Seaman Robert Jarvis, who bravely saved several lives at the risk of losing his own. As for you, Captain," he added, addressing the master of the "Macomber," "I am sorry to say that we shall have to lay you off for sixty days. While you were not physically responsible for the loss of your ship, you are morally responsible. Had you been at your post, and had there been no errors of judgment on your part, you would have been freed from blame. At the expiration of your suspension you will no doubt be assigned to another ship. The government officials here concur in both decisions. They agree that Captain Simms is wholly blameless for the disaster."
Captain Simms did not smile. His face was grave. He was sincerely sorry for the other captain. He knew how easy it was for a man to lose his place in the line through no immediate fault of his own. Simms himself might have been in the position of the other man had it not been for one keen, honest, observant boy.
"Gentlemen, I wish to say a word," announced Mr. Carrhart, rising. "I wish to say that this board owes a vote of thanks to Seaman Stephen Rush."
"We do," assented several voices at once.
"I know Mr. Rush and his friend Jarvis very well, and I have watched their careers for thelast two years. They always do well whatever is set before them to do. Had it not been for Rush's very explicit testimony—for his keen observation, we probably should not have gotten at the facts, and a great injustice might have been done to Captain Simms, though that would have been largely his own fault. Captain Simms, you will proceed to Detroit in the morning and take charge of the 'Richmond,' our new steel, ore-carrying steamer, which is ready to go into commission at once. I presume you will take these two young men with you on the new boat?"
"I certainly shall if they will ship with me," answered Captain Simms promptly. "I wish I had some more men like them. Even half as good men would do very well."
The captain stepped across the room and grasped Steve by the hand.
"I owe this whole business to you, Rush, and you bet I won't forget it!"