AT THE WHEEL
"ISN'T she a beauty!" said Steve admiringly, as, with Jarvis and Captain Simms, he stood on the dock at the shipyards in Detroit, gazing up at the new steamer, the finest ship of her kind plying the lakes.
"She is," agreed the master proudly, "but I'm not forgetting that I might not have had her if it hadn't been for you. Let's go aboard and look her over."
All hands climbed the ladder to the deck. Besides the usual two deck-houses, fore and aft, there was another house just aft of the forward house. This was the guest or passenger dining room where the guests of the line would be served with their meals. After admiring this the men went forward. The captain's quarters were handsomer than anything the men ever had seen before.
"The only trouble with this outfit up here is that it's bigger and I'll be lonesome up here," laughed the captain.
"We'll come up and visit you," returned Jarvis.
"I hope you will, at that," answered theskipper heartily. "I don't know of any men I would rather have in my cabin. I'll tell you what you do. You both come in every evening when we are not otherwise engaged, and I will teach you navigation."
"Thank you very much, sir," replied Rush. "That is exactly what I wish to learn. Of course, I cannot learn it all while I am on the lakes, but I shall be able to get a general idea of it."
"You will learn it quickly enough. After you have been on these lakes one season you'll know more about these waters than a whole lot of men who have been drilling up and down here for the greater part of their lives. We will go back and look over your quarters now."
The room assigned to the boys was even more attractive than had been their quarters on the old ship. The room was large and cosily furnished, and the Iron Boys were delighted with it.
The next thing was the selection of a crew. Captain Simms, with the authority of the officials of the line, decided to ship his old crew, which was done as soon as the "Wanderer" reached Detroit on the following day. The new ship was under orders to proceed to Duluth for a cargo of ore.
The up trip was uneventful, the efforts of all hands being devoted to shaking the new vesseldown and getting acquainted with her. The "Richmond" proved herself to be all that was expected of her. She handled easily and well.
During the three days' trip up the lakes, the boys began their study of navigation. Their first work was to learn to box the compass; that is, name every point on the compass. Steve, with his usual aptness, committed the card to memory in one night. Bob was not very far behind him. Then they took up the study of the theory of navigation, working out positions by moon, stars and sun, all requiring more or less mathematical proficiency. Rush proved himself an apt pupil, and he had made a good start by the time they reached the ore docks in Duluth.
The lads found a few hours time in which to run home to see Steve's mother, and at daylight on the following morning the "Richmond" backed from her slip and turned her trim bow toward the waters of Lake Superior once more.
"I am going to put you two men on the wheel," announced the master, on the morning of the second day out.
"Steering the ship?" questioned Jarvis.
"Yes. You will find it easy work, but you will have to pay strict attention to business."
The eyes of the Iron Boys glowed with pleasure. They took a trial watch early that forenoon under the direction of the captain, whofirst explained the operation of the wheel. Unlike the old style steering wheels, this one was operated by crude petroleum instead of by ropes and chains running over pulleys. Turning the wheel forced the oil through a little half-inch pipe. The pressure thus obtained opened a valve in the engine room and set the steam steering gear at work. The ship, by this modern method, could be steered with a single finger.
"Wonderful, wonderful!" exclaimed the boys, when they fully understood the operation. Their knowledge of it was not complete until they had made a journey back to the engine room to watch the steam steering gear work there as the wheel was turned in the pilot-house.
Then there was another wonder that they were instructed in, the electrical equipment of the ship. All the running lights were lighted by electricity from the pilot-house. Then there were three methods of blowing the whistle situated aft of the pilot-house. First, there was the usual whistle cord; then there was a lever some two feet in length, that pulled the wire attached to the whistle valve. But the most remarkable of all was an electric button whistle. A pressure on this blew the steam whistle. A long pressure blew a long blast and a quick pressure a short blast.
"Electricity plays an important part in theworld's affairs to-day," said Captain Simms, noting their keen interest. "You see we have wireless equipment, too."
"Why isn't it working?"
"It will be when we get some one to operate it. I understand that the line is going to ship an operator at the Soo. I don't know whether it is a good thing or not. Too handy for the officials to say, 'Why did you do that?' or 'Why didn't you do this?' Well, it's always possible that the thing won't work when you want it to. I guess we can see to that."
The boys nodded. Steve was at the wheel. He soon got the knack of keeping the vessel on her course, but found that watching the compass card so steadily made his head ache. Still, it was fascinating work. The helmsman sat on a high stool, both arms resting on the wheel between the spokes, his eyes looking over the wheel and down into the binnacle. A glance up showed miles of sea ahead with the gently rising and falling bow of the ship in the foreground. There was a consciousness of power as the helmsman gently turned the wheel this way or that. The great ship obeyed his slightest pressure. Glancing back through the rear windows of the pilot-house the stern of the ship swung in response to the turn of the wheel with a crack-the-whip motion.
The skipper, noting Steve's glance at the swinging stern, nodded.
"That is what you must look out for when in close quarters. You see, you are so far forward here that you can scarcely believe what a wide circle that other end will make—I should say sweep. It doesn't necessarily cut circles. In entering harbors you must measure your distance with your eyes and know how far you can turn your wheel without having the stern of the ship smash into a breakwater, or crash in the side of some other vessel to the right or left of you."
"There is much to learn. I can see that."
"Sailing the lakes is done by instinct largely. If a man's cut out for the business he makes a go of it. If he isn't, some dark night he misses his way and lands on a hidden reef somewhere. Then, presto, he's out of a job, and maybe worse."
"When do we reach the Soo?" interrupted Jarvis.
"This evening. Rush will be at the wheel about that time, and you had better be up here, too, Jarvis. You can't become too familiar with the ports and the lights. Do you know how to read buoys?"
"No, sir," answered the boys.
"It is very simple. When you are enteringport red buoys, with even numbers, are left to your right hand or starboard. Black buoys with odd numbers are left to the left hand or port. That's the rule the world over."
"But," objected Jarvis, "suppose it's night and you can't see the buoys. What are you going to do then?"
The captain laughed heartily.
"Lights, my boy. Channels are lighted at night, so you can't go wrong; but a good navigator will take his ship through any place without a light to guide him. I want you boys to learn every one of the ranges——"
"What is a range?" interrupted Bob.
"Guide lights," spoke up Steve quickly. "They are the lights on shore, either lighthouses or buoys, to show you how to lay your course."
"That is the idea," agreed Captain Simms. "Let's hear you box the compass while we are here alone, Jarvis."
Bob went over, taking a look at the compass.
"Why do you do that?"
"I wanted to see whether we were at the north pole or the south pole."
"I guess you would know it if you were—that is, you would be pretty certain that you weren't navigating the Great Lakes. Go ahead now."
Jarvis shut his eyes and began reading off thepoints of the compass, making only one error in his reading.
"That is fine," announced the skipper. "I'll guarantee there isn't a man in the ship's crew, outside of the first mate, who can do it so well. Of course, I am excepting Rush and myself. Rush does everything well."
That night Steve took his regular trick at the wheel at eight o'clock. Of course, Jarvis was there, too, as were the captain and the first mate. They were nearing the Soo, as they could see from the lights.
"Let's see, you boys have not been through here, have you?"
"We were below decks the other time, sir."
"Oh, yes, I remember. We will take the Canadian locks this time. The Canadian locks are on the left and the American locks on the right, but the latter are too short to hold a boat as long as this one, so we are obliged to take the Canadian side."
"Why do we have to lock through?" questioned Jarvis.
"To get around the rapids, and for the further reason that Huron lies lower than Superior. This is Whitefish Bay. The light that we have just dropped to starboard is Whitefish Point Lighthouse. Rush, do you see that red light yonder?"
"Yes, sir."
"Point on it."
"I can't see the bow of our boat so as to tell whether I am pointing on the light or not."
"I'll fix that."
The captain pressed a button and a ray of dull, ghostly light appeared just beyond and over the bow.
The lads uttered exclamations of amazement.
"What is it? How did you do it, sir?"
"That, lads, is a guide light on the end of the pole that answers for the bowsprit. The light is there for the purpose of giving you a guide to steer by in narrow places."
Lights began to spring up ahead, until there was such a confusion of them that neither boy could make anything out of them, but the steady eyes of the captain picked out the lights that he wished to find without the least difficulty.
"Do you hear the roar of the rapids in the St. Mary's River?"
"Yes; we hear them."
"Those green lights way over yonder are on the American locks. Now port your helm and steer for that white light standing high above the rest. Are you on it?"
"On the mark, sir," answered Steve.
They continued on this course for ten or fifteen minutes, when the captain ordered thewheelman to starboard his wheel. This threw the bow to the left, sending the boat across the bay on a diagonal course.
"Why don't you go straight in?" asked Jarvis.
"We should land high and dry on the rocks if we did," answered the skipper, with a short laugh. "Others have tried that very thing. The hulls of some of their ships are down there under the water now."
The boys began to realize that navigating the Great Lakes required a great deal of skill and knowledge.
"There is a ship in the locks now," announced Captain Simms.
Both boys gazed into the night, but they could see no ship. The master signaled the engine room to slow down, explaining, at the same time, that they would have to drift in slowly and stop until the other boat got out.
The channel began to narrow as the master directed the wheel this way and that until they found themselves in a walled-in channel that led directly to the locks themselves.
"Snub her!" commanded the captain, leaning from the pilot-house window. A ladder was shoved over the side of the moving ship, a man on either side of it on deck pushing it along so that it might not be dragged. Quick asa flash a sailor sprang on the ladder, and, grasping the side pieces, shot down to the dock on that side, a distance of some twenty feet. Following came others, all getting down in the same manner. It was a dangerous thing to do and excited the wonder and admiration of the two boys in the pilot-house.
"If I were to try that I would be in the water," laughed Rush. "It is a good thing for me that I am at the wheel, for I wouldn't be able to resist trying that experiment."
Hawsers were cast over from the deck, and these, the men who had gone over the side, twisted about snubbing posts. At the same time the ship's propeller began reversing slowly at a signal from the captain. The ship came to an easy stop. The skill with which it had all been done, made a deep impression on the Iron Boys.
A few moments later the gates of the locks opened and the other steamer moved slowly out. So close did they pass the "Richmond" that some of the men reached out and shook hands across the gulf, while the two captains held a brief conversation. Then the "Richmond" let go her moorings and moved slowly into the Canadian locks. The gates swung to behind them, the water began rushing from the other end of the locks and the ship rapidly settled until her decks were level with the dock besidewhich she stood. The men who had gone over the side now stepped aboard and hauled in the hawsers after them.
"Marvelous!" breathed the Iron Boys.
"Slow speed ahead," commanded the skipper. "We are now on the Huron level. Here comes your relief. I hope you boys get a good night's sleep."
"Thank you, sir; good night," answered the lads, starting for their cabin. It had been a most interesting evening for them.
THROUGH THE ROCKY CUT
FOUR long and two short blasts roared from the whistle of the "Richmond."
It was the private signal of Captain Simms. The ship was bearing down on Port Huron and was at that moment at the mouth of the St. Clair River. The skipper stepped to the door of the pilot-house with megaphone in hand.
"This is where I live," he explained. "My wife always comes out to see me as we pass. See the light there, in that cottage on the river bank? Well, that's where I live when I'm not steamboating. There she comes."
Through the moonlight Steve saw a woman running down to the edge of the water.
"How are you, John?" called her pleasant voice through a megaphone.
"I'm well; how are the folks?"
"They're all well."
"Any news?"
"Nothing except that Betty has six pretty white chickens and she's terribly cross."
"Put her in the soup," suggested the captain.
Just then a little white-robed figure appeared at an upper window of the captain's home. Inher hand the little one also held a megaphone. It was the captain's twelve-year-old daughter, Marie, the apple of his eye.
"H-e-l-l-o P-Pa-pa-a-a," came the greeting in a childish treble.
"Hello, Marie!" bellowed Bob Jarvis from the rail aft of the bridge.
"Who are you? I don't know your voice."
"I'm Bob Jarvis, but you don't know me."
"Hello, Bob. Yes, I do. My papa wrote to me about you. Where's Steve?"
There was a laugh that rippled from one end of the deck to the other.
"Never mind him; he is steering the ship. When are you coming out with us? Come along and we'll have a lot of fun."
"I don't know. When Papa says I may. When may I come, Papa? And you haven't said a word to me yet. You'll be gone in a minute."
"How could I? You haven't given me a chance to get a word in edgeways. Port your helm a little," he added, in a lower voice to Rush.
"Port a little," answered Steve.
"When, Papa?"
"Perhaps the next trip. I will send you a letter from down the line. Jennie, can you go back with us if I stop for you on the up trip?"
"I'll see. If I can do so I'll run up the red flag on the staff. If you see that you may stop. If not, you will know we can't get away that trip. I've got to attend to my early canning, you know."
Captain Simms grumbled something outside the megaphone, that sounded something like, "Shoot the canning!"
"Good-bye," came two voices, sounding faint and far away on the soft night air, one being a woman's voice, the other the thin, childish treble of a little girl.
"Head on that bright light low down there," directed the skipper, with a last lingering look back toward his home. "That's the worst of this business. A fellow gets about a five-minute look at his home and family, once a month or so. I'd rather be sitting on my front porch to-night than steering a ship through this rocky river."
"Is that a light-house that I am steering for?"
"No; that's an inspector's cabin. Starboard some."
"Starboard some," repeated the helmsman.
"All ships have to report as they go by. You will hear him call when we get abreast. Those fellows never seem to sleep."
"It must be a lonely life for a man out there."
"It is, and——"
"Ship ahoy. What ship is that?" bellowed the inspector through his megaphone.
"'Richmond' from Duluth with ore."
"The what?"
"'Richmond'!" roared Bob from the lower deck.
"I don't catch it."
"Six o'clock," howled Jarvis with his hands to his mouth, at which there was a loud laugh from the ship's company.
"Steamer 'Richmond,'" shouted the captain. "Why don't you open your ears? Think we can stand here yelling like wild Indians all night?"
The inspector did not answer. From past experience he realized the futility of an argument with a lake captain.
"This is the most dangerous navigating of any place on the lakes, Rush," said the skipper. "The bottom of our ship is only three feet from the bottom of the cut at this minute. Swerving six feet either to the right or left out of our course would put us hard and fast on the rocks. We should block the channel besides running the risk of breaking the ship's back. Steady!"
"Steady, sir."
"Remember, I am talking to the rudder. I keep that rudder in my mind every second of the time. I can see its every movement. Idon't know there is such a thing as a steering wheel when I'm navigating like this. Port a little."
"Port a little, sir."
"Now head for that range light up on the hill there. This cut, known as Rock Cut, was built by the government at great expense. Hold your course as you are until you round the bend in the cut there, then head on a red light that you will see high up on the rocks. Get your funnel back there in range with the white light on the hill you see to the left. You will be exactly in the channel then. Keep in the middle. I have to go to my cabin for a moment. I think I can trust you. Remember, the channel is narrow and you must keep well within it."
"I will, sir."
Steve was left alone in the pilot-house. As he was steering by range guides alone, now, he did not have to watch the compass. All the windows of the pilot-house had been let down so that he had an unobstructed view all around.
"I'm running the ship," breathed the lad. "I don't know who's taking the biggest chance, myself or the captain."
Though the Iron Boy felt the responsibility of his position, he could not help the little thrill of triumph that ran through him. He was far up in the air with no one save the watch downin the forepeak near him. The night was bright and glorious, the most peaceful scene he had ever gazed upon. But Rush did not devote much thought to the peacefulness of his surroundings. His mind was too thoroughly centred on his work.
The "Richmond," sailed majestically around the bend in the cut, Steve glancing back over the decks to see that his funnel was coming in line with the range indicated by the captain. As Rush looked ahead through the open pilot-house window again his heart fairly leaped into his throat. Two eyes, one red the other green were blinking at him right in his path dead ahead.
"It's a ship!" he exclaimed. "I don't dare pass it here. I don't know whether there's room or not. What shall I do?"
The Iron Boy's quick mind solved the problem in a flash. Springing to the pilot-house telegraph he swung the indicator over to the words, "Half speed astern."
The ship began to tremble under the impact of the reversing propeller. Grasping the whistle lever Steve blew five short, sharp blasts, then taking his place at the wheel he calmly kept the vessel in her course, the other ship bearing down on him whistling as if the whistle lever had been wired down.
The reversing of the propeller had not been lost on Captain Simms. He knew instantly what it meant when he felt the trembling of the vessel. Then came the danger signal—five sharp blasts on the whistle.
The captain was out of his cabin on the run taking the stairway to the bridge three steps at a time. By this time Rush had thrown the telegraph indicator over to "full speed astern." He was watching the stern to see that it did not swing out of the channel, then turning to see what the vessel ahead of him was doing.
What had caused him to so suddenly reverse the propeller was not so much the narrowness of the channel, but rather a light that was placed well out from the shore line on his side. It was a white light, and, while he did not understand the meaning of it, he knew that it had been placed there as a warning to ships to keep well outside of it.
The other boat was coming to a stop also, but by the time Captain Simms reached the pilot-house the bows of the two ships were so close together that it seemed as though they might crash together. One swift, comprehensive glance told the captain everything. He noted that his vessel was reversing, that the pilot was keeping her in the channel and that the other ship was coming to a stop.
Without a word to Steve he grasped his megaphone and sprang to the window.
"Choke her down, you fools! Do you want to run us under?"
"Get out of the way yourself! Why didn't you blow your whistle? You saw that buoy there. You have seen it for the last half hour. You knew you ought to have given warning before you got into the cut here."
"What does that buoy mean?" demanded Captain Simms.
"A coal barge was sunk there this morning."
The two vessels met with a heavy bump that set everything rattling on board both ships, but the shock was not sufficiently severe to do any damage to either.
"Back up, you fellows, unless you want us to push you out!" commanded Captain Simms.
In the meantime, after the shock, Steve had stepped to the telegraph and swung the indicator to the word "Stop!"
The two captains hurled language at each other for the next two minutes, but the other skipper grew tired of it first. He gave the order to reverse propeller. The up-bound boat began to retreat slowly.
"Slow speed ahead," commanded Captain Simms.
The master was leaning from the pilot-housewindow, megaphone in hand, ready to roar at the other skipper at the first opportunity. But there was no good excuse for him to do so. After backing down stream sufficiently to make passing safe, Captain Simms gave his whistle lever a jerk, sounding one sharp blast, meaning that he would meet and pass the other vessel on its port side.
The "Richmond" slipped by at a little higher speed than was safe, her sides scraping the paint off the other boat in spots.
"I ought to report you, you lubber!" roared Captain Simms in passing. "You ain't fit to command a mud scow. I've got a kid on this boat who's a better captain, after half a cruise, than you'll be if you cruise all your life."
The captain jerked the telegraph indicator to "three-quarter speed ahead" with such violence that it threatened to tear the indicator chains from their hooks. Then he turned to Rush.
"Steve, much obliged," he said. "That's the second time you saved the ship. I owe you another one for that. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you'll be trotting around with a master's license in your inside pocket by the time you are twenty-one. Steady there."
"Steady, sir," answered the boy at the wheel.
THE BLOW IN THE DARK
THEY had passed out through Lake St. Clair as eight bells rang out. Steve relinquished the wheel to the next watch and bidding good night to the captain started back toward his quarters.
The lad made his way back over the deck, strolling slowly along, enjoying the night and thinking over the events of the evening. As he reached the after deck-house he halted, leaning against it looking forward and watching the gentle rising and falling of the upper works forward.
"It is almost fascinating enough to make one want to spend his life on board a ship," mused the Iron Boy. "Well, I must turn in. I——"
He did not finish what he was about to say. A crushing blow was dealt him on the back of the head, coming from the deep shadows on the starboard side of the after deck-house.
Steve staggered forward, then fell face downward on the steel deck of the "Richmond."
Sailors found him there, half an hour later, unconscious. No one knew what had happened. The captain was notified at once and he, afteran examination of the boy, decided that Steve had fallen against a steel hatch and had given his head a severe bump. They worked over the lad for nearly an hour before getting him back to consciousness. He had been put to bed, and Bob was detailed to sit by and watch his companion, which he did with solemn face. Steve fell into a deep sleep from which he did not fully awaken until morning.
He was lame and sore from head to feet. Bob was asleep on the edge of the berth and the ship was rolling heavily. Without waking his companion, Rush got up after much effort, dressed himself, and, supporting himself by keeping his hands on the woodwork, made his way outside. Day was just breaking.
Steve leaned against the deck-house in the same position that he had been occupying on the previous night when he was struck.
The captain, at that juncture, came along on his way to breakfast.
"Hello, Rush," he greeted, halting. "How do you feel?"
"All knocked out."
"That's too bad. Come in and have some breakfast. You will feel better after that."
"I do not think I want any breakfast, sir."
"Pshaw! Come along. By the way, you had a nasty fall last night, didn't you?"
"I should say I did."
"How did you happen to slip?"
"I didn't slip, captain."
"You didn't?"
"No, sir."
"Then how did you happen to crack your head on a hatch cover?"
"How was I lying when you found me?"
"They said you were lying on your face."
"If that was the case, I couldn't very well have bumped the back of my head on a hatch cover, could I?"
"That had not occurred to me before. See here, didn't you lose your balance or stumble and fall?"
"I fell, but it was through no fault of my own."
"Will you tell me what did happen?" questioned the captain with a puzzled expression on his face.
"I think I was struck," answered Rush calmly.
"Knocked down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Impossible! Who—what——?"
"I do not know any more about it than you do, sir. I was standing here just as I am now, when I got a terrible blow on the back of my head. I didn't know it was a blow then, but as I thinkit over I remember very well. Everything grew dark about me. The next I knew I was in my cabin, with you and Jarvis working over me."
"What you are telling me is a very serious matter, Rush."
"It was serious enough for me at the time."
"Who was on the deck at the time?"
"No one, so far as I observed."
"But, it would have been impossible for any one to approach close enough to hit you, without your either hearing or seeing him."
"It would seem so. Yet the fact remains that I was hit. It takes considerable to knock me out, sir, but I got enough last night."
"Do you suspect any one?"
"Not a person. I cannot understand it at all."
"Well, you just keep your eyes open. If you find out who struck that dastardly blow I'll deal severely with him. He won't be in condition to strike any one else for some time to come."
"I think I shall be able to take care of the man myself when I meet him and know him," replied the lad, with a faint smile. "I shall report for duty on time this morning, so please do not put any one in my place."
"Very well; perhaps it will do you good to be busy. Well, I'm going to breakfast. Let me know if you get a line on this mystery."
Steve did not answer. He stood leaning against the after deck-house, thinking. Finally he turned with a sigh intending to go forward. As he did so a man came out of the stokers' dining room and started to go below. Rush halted sharply.
"Hello, Smith," he said. "When did you come aboard the 'Richmond'?"
"When did you think I came aboard?"
"That's what I am asking you."
"Mebby I'm a fish and swam out," answered the stoker. Smith was the man with whom Steve had had the trouble on the first disastrous cruise.
"I shouldn't be surprised. You are equal to most anything that's out of the ordinary. Where were you last night?"
"Stoking from six to twelve—eight bells. But——" Smith checked himself.
"So you came off at twelve, eh?"
"I did. But how's that your business?"
"Perhaps it may be my business. At least, I am going to make it my business."
"See here, young feller, be you trying to pick a row with me?"
"No; one doesn't have to pick a quarrel with you. You're always quarreling. If I wanted to have a fight with you all I should have to do would be to look at you and the fight would be on. I'm looking at you now, Smith."
The stoker uttered a half-suppressed growl of anger, started toward the Iron Boy, then halted, opening and closing his fingers nervously.
"I'll—I'll——"
"Out with it. You will feel better after you have said it," urged Steve in an encouraging voice.
"I'll break your blasted head for you——"
Smith made a jump for the Iron Boy.
Steve stepped lightly to one side, putting out his foot as the stoker shot by him. Smith's head hit the edge of a hatch, then he sprawled forward on the deck.
"So you're the fellow who gave me that blow in the dark last night, are you?" demanded the lad in a stern voice.
"I—I'll kill you for this!" roared the stoker, raising a vengeful face to the Iron Boy.
"You'll do it some dark night, then. You haven't the courage to face a man in broad daylight and meet him man to man—no; I won't put it that way, for you are no man. You're just a common tough, that's what you are. Now get up and take your medicine, for you're going to get a walloping that ought to last you longer than the hose bath did."
Smith sprang to his feet and rushed at his young antagonist. He did not reach Steve, however.The fellow suddenly received a blow under the ear that sent him spinning and tumbling over among the hatches that extended above the deck some two feet at their highest point.
But Steve had not delivered the blow. He had not even raised his hands, though he was standing in position ready to meet the charge of the tough stoker.
"Get up, you hound!" roared Captain Simms.
It was he who had delivered the blow. He had emerged from the mess room just in time to see the stoker's enraged face over Steve Rush's shoulder. The captain understood instantly what Smith was about to do. The skipper took two quick strides forward and his powerful fist smote the other man a terrific blow.
The stoker leaped to his feet and went for the captain, now enraged beyond all control. But he had reckoned without his man. The skipper knocked the angry stoker down almost before the latter could raise his fists.
"Never mind, Captain; I can take care of him," urged Steve.
"Stand back! This is my circus. What was he going to hit you for?"
"I was to blame. I goaded him into it. I——"
"Wait a minute. He hasn't got enough yet. He's coming for me."
The captain suspended conversation long enough to give Smith a right and left swing on either side of the head that sent the fellow to the deck with all the fight knocked out of him, and which put him out of business for the next ten minutes.
Captain Simms turned calmly to Rush.
"Now, what was it you were saying, my lad?"
Rush could not repress a smile.
"Nothing very much. You know Smith and myself had some trouble on the last cruise?"
"Yes, I remember."
"He never has gotten over being angry at me. He began saying disagreeable things to me, and I suppose I helped the matter along by tantalizing him. I was as much to blame as Smith was. But—but I'm sorry you didn't let me give him what he was spoiling for."
"He got it, that's all that is necessary," growled the master. "See here, Rush, he isn't the fellow who hit you last night, is he?" demanded the captain suddenly, shooting a quick, suspicious glance into the face of the Iron Boy.
"I didn't see who hit me," answered Steve, truthfully even if somewhat evasively.
"Call the first mate!"
Rush did so.
"Put that man in irons and keep him on bread and water until he is ready to go to work and mind his own business. I've half a notion to turn him over to the authorities for mutiny," said the skipper reflectively.
"Don't you think he has had punishment enough, sir?" urged Steve.
"Yes, I suppose he has at that. Iron him, Major. It will do him good."
The stoker woke up just as the steel bracelets were being snapped on his wrists. Protesting and threatening, he was dragged to the lazaret, where he was destined to remain for the next twenty-four hours in solitary confinement, with nothing more substantial to live on than bread and water.
VISITORS ON THE "RICHMOND"
THE ugly stoker was liberated on the following day after having promised to behave himself in the future. But he held his head low when showing himself on deck, which was seldom. He never permitted his shifting eyes to meet those of Steve Rush, nor did Steve make any effort to address the man. The lad was confident, in his own mind, that Smith was the man who struck him that night by the after deck-house, but the drubbing that Captain Simms had given the fellow made Rush feel that they were now even.
On the way back the ship picked up Mrs. Simms and little Marie at Port Huron. The "Richmond" was on its way to South Chicago with a cargo of coal. This took them around into Lake Michigan, and many were the happy hours spent by the captain's little daughter and the Iron Boys. They played games on deck between watches, as though all three were children. Rush and Jarvis had constituted themselves the special guardians of the little girl, and she queened it over them, making them her willing subjects.
At South Chicago the ship was held up for a week because the company to which the coal was consigned was not ready to receive it. Steve considered this to be bad business policy on the part of the steamship people, and another memorandum went down in his book, to be considered in detail later on.
While at South Chicago the lads made frequent trips into the city, which they had never visited before. One afternoon they took the captain's wife and daughter to a matinee, then out to dinner at a fashionable restaurant.
It made a pleasant break in the lives of each of the four, and helped to cement the friendship between little Marie and her new-found friends.
At last the coal was unloaded. After filling the tanks with water ballast, the "Richmond" started away for the northward to take on another cargo of ore and once more to drill down the Great Lakes.
The water ballast did not draw the ship down to its load level, with the result that she rolled considerably.
"The glass is falling," announced the captain as the craft swung into Lake Superior two days later. "I shouldn't be surprised if we had quite a jabble of a sea before night."
"We don't care, do we?" chirped Marie, to whom a rolling ship was a keen delight.
"Not as long as the dishes stay on the table," answered Bob, with a merry laugh. "When are you going to bake that long-promised cake for me?"
"Just as soon as the cook will let me. He's always cooking something for the night watch when he isn't getting the regular meals. My, but that night watch must have an awful appetite!" she chuckled.
"Yes, I've noticed that," agreed Bob. "But you can't lay it to me. I've a feather-weight appetite. I didn't have any at all when I first went aboard an ore carrier. It beats all how quickly a fellow will lose all interest in life the first time out."
The wind blew hard all the way up Superior, raising, as the captain had promised it would, "quite a jabble of a sea." But the blow was nothing like a heavy gale. It was just a sea, a nasty, uncomfortable sea. The boys and Marie were in great good humor all the way up. Marie's mother was ill in her stateroom and the assistant cook had had an unexpected attack of seasickness.
"Nice crew of lubbers," growled the captain, when informed of the assistant cook's indisposition.
The ship reached Duluth at night and immediately was shunted into the slip at the ore docksfor loading. After the hatches were down a huge crate was hoisted aboard with a crane. A section of the deck was opened up and the crate was let down into the lazaret. The crate was consigned to one of the company's officials in the East. No one paid any attention to the crate, and it is doubtful if any one save the captain and the first mate knew what the contents of the crate were.
Hatches were battened down and long before daylight the "Richmond" was on her way again. By this time the "jabble" had increased to a full gale. No other ship ventured out, but Captain Simms was not a skipper to be held back by the weather. He knew his ship was seaworthy and he knew full well how to handle her safely in any sea that the lakes could kick up. A full northwester was raging down from the hills and the glass was falling all the time. The "glass" is the sailor's name for barometer.
Steve took the wheel as they passed out, and he was obliged to give up the wheelman's stool because he could not keep it right side up under him. He dragged a platform over to the wheel. It was made for the purpose, having cross-cleats on it to enable the helmsman to keep his footing when the ship was cutting up capers.
"There," he announced, "I'll stick here until the wheel comes off."
Waves broke over the vessel continuously, striking the deck with reports like those of distant artillery. Superior was a dreary waste of gray and white. The air seemed full of the spume of the crested rollers, while the clouds were leaden and threatening.
"Look at the rainbow!" cried Bob, pointing off to the westward.
"That ain't a rainbow you landlubber," jeered a companion.
"Well, if it isn't I never saw a rainbow."
"No, it's a dog."
"A what?"
"Sundog."
"Bob, you certainly are a lubber," laughed Mr. Major. "Didn't you ever see a sundog before?"
"Never. What are they for?"
"I don't know what they are for. I know what they do—they bring gales and storm and trouble all along the line. That's what the dogs do."
"I think the other ships saw it before we did, for there doesn't seem to be another boat on the lake."
"No; at least, the little fellows have taken to harbors along the coast. It wasn't the sundog, however, but the glass that warned them. You know the glass has been falling for thepast twenty-four hours. We know what to expect when that happens, but we don't know what to expect when the storm strikes us. These lakes are the most treacherous bodies of water in the world. Twenty miles beyond here is the graveyard of Superior, where the hulls of more than fifty ships lie rotting on the bottom. Some of them went down in weather no worse than this. This is bad enough."
Bob listened attentively.
"Do you ever get seasick in any of these storms?"
"Always," answered the first mate, in a matter of fact tone. "If this keeps on you won't see me at mess to-day noon. You'll have to eat your dinner standing up, but not for me."
The weather grew more tempestuous as the forenoon wore on. The scuppers were running rivers of green lake water and there was not a dry spot on the decks; even the upper works standing high in the air, were dripping with the spray that had been showered over them.
"Let her off three points," commanded the captain.
Almost instant relief from the incessant pounding was noticeable. The waves came aboard only occasionally, though the sea was running the same as before and the ship was rolling almost down to her rails.
"That is better," nodded Steve, his voice echoing in the silence of the pilot-house.
"Did it make you dizzy?" smiled the skipper.
"No, sir. I got all over that after I fell in the hold that time. It isn't a comfortable feeling to have the floor rolling around beneath one's feet, but I am getting so that I do not mind it much. Is that a boat ahead of us there?"
"Yes," replied the captain, placing the glasses to his eyes. "It's a pig, and she's having a pretty hard time of it. All you can see of her is a smother of foam in the place where the ship is. The smoke from her funnel seems to come right out of the lake."
"Are those whalebacks safe, Captain?" asked the pilot.
"Yes. I commanded one for two seasons. They are perfectly safe, so long as nothing happens to them."
Steve laughed.
"That goes without saying."
"But they are the wettest boats in the world, as you can judge by watching that fellow beating his way against the sea. They have a very thin skin and the least puncture will go through. Next thing you'll hear the hatches blowing off, and down she goes like a meteorite shot from above."
"I don't believe I should care for them. I prefer to be high above water like this, rather than under it all the way down the lakes. If I wanted to travel on a submarine I'd ship on a real one."
The gale was playing tunes on the braces, and the life-span running from the forward to the after deck-house was swaying back and forth. Steve gazed at it a moment then turned to the skipper.
"I never could see the use of those life-spans. If the ship goes down, I don't understand how a life-span from one end of the ship to the other, is going to help any."
"They haven't been on long. A good many lives would have been saved if they had been. You see, the span is a rope on which travels a little swing just large enough to hold a man. Then there is a free rope running through a ring in the top of the swing by which to pull one's self along."
"Yes, I have figured that out."
"Then suppose that to-night, in the darkness, we were to miss our way. The compass might go bad, we might be driven out of our course and all that sort of thing, you know—and all of a sudden we might drive our bow full speed on one of those low-lying Apostle Islands!"
"Yes, sir."
"The stern of the ship would sink low and there she would pound to pieces. That's where the men astern would find use for the life-span. By it they would be able to pull themselves to the bow of the boat and perhaps make their escape before the stern finally went down under water. They are a good thing, and you should see to it that the spans are always in working order. I have those on my ship examined every day. I——"
The captain was interrupted in what he was saying by a yell from the deck. The skipper took a quick look aft through the pilot-house windows, then sprang to the pilot-house telegraph.
"Full speed astern!" crashed the message to the engine room.
IN THE GRIP OF THE WAVES
"SOMEBODY overboard!" said the captain sharply.
"Who?" demanded Steve, in an equally sharp tone as his relief took the wheel from his hands.
"I don't know."
Just then the figure of a man was seen to leap from the top of the after deck-house into the raging sea.
Bob Jarvis had been clinging to a ladder that the chief engineer was holding up against the whistle pipe, the valve of the whistle having worked loose. The engineer had asked Bob to help him as a favor, which the lad was glad to do, though that was not his department. It was a ticklish position in which to work, and at any moment a lurch of the ship might throw the ladder over and throw the Iron Boy into the sea. He gave no heed to the danger of his position, for he was rapidly becoming a true sailor.
Suddenly, as though some instinct had told him to do so, Bob turned his head and glanced over the deck to the forward deck-house. As he did so he uttered an exclamation. LittleMarie had just descended the steps from her father's quarters, and was already on the main deck. In her arms she carried several parcels.
"Go back!" roared Jarvis.
The words were driven back down his throat by the wind, and if the child understood his gestures she did not heed them.
Bob groaned.
"Let me down, quick! The child is trying to get aft and she'll never make it."
With rare presence of mind, Jarvis gave the whistle lever five quick, short jerks, sending forth as many blasts, the signal of danger. Instantly some one shouted a sharp warning.
By this time the lad had slid down the ladder and was making for the edge of the deck-house to drop down to the deck. He halted all of a sudden. Bob tried to cry out, but the words would not come. He felt a sickening sensation sweep over him, and a sudden dizziness took possession of him.
A white-crested wave had risen up out of the sea right alongside of the big steel ore carrier. For a moment it hung trembling over the ship like an avenging monster. Then suddenly it swooped down. It reminded Jarvis of a steam clam shell scooping up ore. He was thinking calmly now, and he was planning what he should do an instant later.
The green scoop dipped, lifted the little Marie clear of the deck, then raised her high above the steel hatch covers.
A faint cry floated back to where the Iron Boy was standing as the captain's daughter was carried over the opposite side of the ship and dropped into the sea.
A great shout escaped Bob Jarvis. Lifting himself to his toes he took a long curving dive from the deck-house. He cleared the ship's rail with plenty of room to spare, entering the water head first just at the base of a huge swell.
In an almost incredibly short time his hatless head bobbed up on the other side of the swell, leaving him struggling alone on the rough waters. The ship had slipped quickly by. But already her propeller was beating the water with all the force of the steam power behind it, turned on full, in an effort to start the ship going astern.
Steve had rushed out on deck the instant he was relieved. Unmindful of the seas that were again breaking over the deck as the ship shifted her position, he dashed aft, drenched to the skin and battered this way and that by the angry combers as they roared curling aboard.
A sailor ran panting up the stairs to the pilot-house.
"It's the little girl!" cried the sailor. "Yourdaughter's overboard and Jarvis has gone after her. They'll both be drowned!"
"Port your helm a little," said the skipper in a calm, steady voice, as he turned to the wheelman. "Steady!"
Springing to the telephone he called up the after deck-house.
"Have boat Number 6 manned and swung out ready for launching. Have men stand by with life-lines and rings ready to cast if we come up with them. You stand by and watch out astern."
The commands were delivered in quick, sharp accents, but there was no trace of excitement either in the captain's tone or on his features. He was every inch the commander, cool, calm, resourceful. Years of commanding had taught him that to be a master of others one must first be the master of himself and of his own emotions.
"Where are they? Do you see them?" shouted Rush, as he dashed to the after rail of the ship where a number of men were standing with pale, frightened faces.
A hand pointed astern where, a second or so later, Steve caught sight of the bobbing head of his companion.
"Has he got the child?" Rush cried.
"Yes. Leastwise, he had a minute ago. It was a lucky chance. You see, he jumped just intime and the girl was fairly swept into his arms."
"It was not chance," retorted Steve. "Bob knew what he was doing."
Steve was pacing up and down the after deck, scarcely able to restrain himself from leaping into the sea and going to his companion's assistance. He knew, however, that the chances were that he would never be able to reach the struggling figure off there. At any rate the ship, which was now beating its way astern at a very fair rate of speed, would get to the spot before he could possibly hope to do so, even if he were able to make it at all.
Far up above the decks in the pilot-house with glasses to his eyes, stood the skipper, calm, stern, alert, now and then giving a brief command to the man at the wheel in a voice in which there was still no hint of nervousness or excitement.
The first mate gazed at his commander in wonder. There were Iron Boys in that ship's company and there was a master who was also iron.
"I think you had better go aft, Mr. Major," directed the skipper. "Take charge back there. We are going to have difficulty in getting them aboard, even if they keep up until we get to them. The boy is making a great fight of it."
"Aye, aye, sir. Has he the girl still?"
"Yes. He is trying to keep her head above water until we get to him, but I'm afraid she'll drown before we can help them."
The first mate hurried from the pilot-house, starting aft at a run. He began shouting out his orders before he reached the stern. He found Steve Rush with coat and shoes off, poised on the rail of the plunging stern, the water dashing over him as he clung with one hand to a stanchion.
"You are not going to try to go over, Rush?" he shouted.
"There's no need now," answered the boy, not for an instant taking his eyes from the two figures off there in the water.
The ship was drawing near and it was observable that Jarvis was not battling as strongly as he had before. They knew that he was becoming exhausted from his desperate struggle with the great seas that were sweeping him.
"Man boat Number 6 and put it over!" commanded the mate.
"No use to do that," called Rush. "It will not live. Better put over the lines at the proper time."
"No; it is the captain's orders to launch Number 6 boat. I want two men."
Nearly every man there stepped forward.They glanced at Rush. He was still on the rail. He had made no effort to volunteer for the dangerous service. They wondered at it, but they knew the boy's courage too well to think for a moment that he had been deterred from offering to go out in the life-boat through fear. There were those present who would have resented such an imputation.
Steve cast a disapproving glance at the mate who was then superintending the launching of the craft. The men who were to go out in it already had taken their places in the boat, that had been provided with ropes, life rings and life preservers.
At command the boat was swung out, the men standing up and steadying their craft by pressing their oars against the sides of the ship itself.
"Careful that you do not fall out!" warned Mr. Major. "I will give the command to let go. When I do so drop to your seats and out oars."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Shut off!" shouted Rush. "You'll run them down!"
The mate made a signal to the captain, but the latter had timed the progress of his vessel too well to need the signal. Already the propeller had ceased revolving and the captain was giving his directions to the wheelman so as to throw the stern to one side of the struggling boy.
Captain Simms' plan was to drift down on Jarvis and the child, with the sea. Perhaps it was not the best thing to do, but it was the quickest and seconds were golden at that critical moment.
"Let go!" roared the mate.
The life-boat struck the water with a splash. Instantly it was picked up on the crest of a giant roller, lifted high in the air, and hurled against the side of the ship with terrific force.
With a sickening crash the life-boat was crushed into splinters, precipitating the crew into the rough sea.
Rush leaped from the rail to the deck. He had been ready to do so when he saw what the mate proposed to do. He foresaw the end of the life-boat, and perhaps of the men who were manning her, even before they made a start to obey the orders of the mate.
Grasping a life ring to which a long line had been attached, Steve hurled it over the side of the ship.
"Grab the line!" he shouted to one of the men next to him. "Watch out and haul in when you get your man hooked."
Another life ring dropped over the side of the ship and the line to this Steve passed to another man. Both struggling sailors in the water fastened to the life rings that had been droppedwithin easy reach of them, thanks to the careful aim of the Iron Boy.
Steve saw that the two were reasonably safe; then, grabbing up another ring, he sprang to the rail on the port side.
Bob Jarvis and the girl were drifting in, buffeted this way and that by one huge wave after another. The girl's head was drooping over Bob's left shoulder.
"Can you make it?" bellowed Rush.
"I don't know." Bob's voice sounded far away.
Steve was watching him with keen, steady eyes. The lad felt sure that they never would get aboard without at least serious injury.
"Kick the ship ahead a couple of turns!" shouted Rush in a tone of command.
The word was transmitted to the captain in the pilot-house by gestures.
The captain gave the signal, but not quite quickly enough to accomplish what Rush had hoped for. He wanted the ship advanced a few feet so that Jarvis and his burden would drift past the stern where they could be pulled up without the danger of being crushed against the side of the ship.
Before the propeller had made one complete revolution the stern of the "Richmond" was hit by a giant wave and then by another. The vessel it seemed was literally lifted from the water and thrown to one side. That was the side where Bob Jarvis was struggling to save himself and the captain's daughter.