Produced by Dianna Adair, Stephen Hutcheson, Rod Crawford,
Dave Morgan and the Online Distributed Proofreading Team
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The Iron Boys on the
Ore Boats

OR

Roughing It on the Great Lakes

By

JAMES R. MEARS

Author of The Iron Boys in the Mines, The Iron Boys as Foremen,
The Iron Boys in the Steel Mills, etc.

Illustrated

PHILADELPHIA
HENRY ALTEMUS COMPANY


COPYRIGHT, 1913, BY
HOWARD E. ALTEMUS

  Illustration: Both Boys Were Hurled Forward




CONTENTS


CHAPTER                                   PAGE

      I. TO THE INLAND SEAS                  7

     II. THE IRON BOYS AS CARGO             20

    III. A SURPRISED SKIPPER                31

     IV. THE BOYS STAND THE TEST            42

      V. TROUBLE IN THE STOKE HOLE          54

     VI. THE FIRST STEP UPWARD              63

    VII. THE IRON BOYS ON DECK              70

   VIII. THE CRASH IN THE FOG               82

     IX. A TRAGEDY OF THE LAKES             93

      X. TOSSED UP BY THE WAVES            104

     XI. BY PLUCK ALONE                    113

    XII. ON THE ROAD TO CONNEAUT           122

   XIII. IN THE GRIP OF A GIANT SHELL      129

    XIV. STEVE SAVES THE CAPTAIN           135

     XV. AT THE WHEEL                      151

    XVI. THROUGH THE ROCKY CUT             163

   XVII. THE BLOW IN THE DARK              172

  XVIII. VISITORS ON THE "RICHMOND"        181

    XIX. IN THE GRIP OF THE WAVES          190

     XX. AN EXCITING RESCUE                202

    XXI. A NEW HAND AT THE WHEEL           210

   XXII. LEADING A LIVELY CHASE            219

  XXIII. THE WIRELESS MESSAGE              223

   XXIV. CONCLUSION                        245




The Iron Boys on the Ore Boats




CHAPTER I

TO THE INLAND SEAS


"WHAT are we to do?"

"The first duty of an inspector is to inspect, I should say," answered
Steve Rush, with a soft laugh, in answer to his companion's question.

Bob Jarvis made a wry face.

"You think you are very smart this morning, seeing that you have been
complimented by the president of the mining company," grumbled Jarvis.
"I don't know whether I like this new job or not. We were making pretty
good money in the mines and we were bosses at that. Are we going to do
any bossing when we get on the lakes?"

"I think not. We shall be ordinary seamen. Somebody else will do the
bossing in this instance and we shall be the victims. Mr. Carrhart will
tell us all about it in a minute. He is arranging for our work now. It
will be a great change, and while we shall be working pretty hard we
shall be adding to our store of knowledge, Bob. We are lucky to possess
so fully the confidence of our superiors. Let's try to show that we are
worthy of their confidence in our new places."

"When do we start?"

"I don't know. Mr. Carrhart is looking that matter up now."

The lads were sitting in the private office of the president of the
mining company, whither they had been summoned from their work at the
mines. Mr. Carrhart, the president, stepped briskly into the office at
that juncture.

"Well, lads, I have arranged for your transportation."

"May I ask on what ship we are to sail, sir?" questioned Steve.

"The 'Wanderer.' She is not one of our newest ships, but she is a
staunch old vessel with about as many conveniences as are to be found on
the newer and more modern boats. I sometimes think we are getting
further away from what a ship should be--but then, I am not a sailor. I
am not supposed to know anything about ships," laughed the president.

"When do we sail?"

"Some time to-night. The 'Wanderer' is not yet in. She passed the Soo
nearly forty hours ago and should dock some time this afternoon. She is
coming up light this time, for a change."

"How long does it take to load the ship with ore?" asked Steve, his
active mind already in search of knowledge along the line of their new
calling.

"Eight hours or so."

"That is quick time," nodded Jarvis.

"It strikes me as being a long time," remarked Rush.

"That is the point exactly," agreed Mr. Carrhart. "If you boys can find
a way to shorten the loading time you will have served your purpose
well. That is exactly why we are sending you out on this inspecting
tour--that is, it is one of the reasons. We want to know where we can
save money and time in the shipment of ores to the furnaces."

"But, sir, we know nothing about this branch of the business," protested
Steve. "Are there not others better qualified than ourselves?"

"They think they are," answered the president reflectively. "We have
tried them out. Most of them are wedded to old methods. What we want is
new methods as well as new blood. Besides, you lads have expressed
yourselves as being anxious to learn everything about the mining and
steel business. I am taking you at your word. You are thoroughly posted
on the mining end. I do not believe you could be much more so were you
to spend three years more underground. The shipment of the ore is the
next step. You have followed the ore down from the mines to the shipping
point, here in Duluth. Now I am going to have you spend a few months on
the Great Lakes."

"That will be a fine experience, sir."

"I think so."

"Is the purpose of our going to sea on the lakes known, or is it not to
be known to any one outside of ourselves?"

"Certainly not. The mission might fail of its purposes were such to be
the case. To all intents and appearances, you two boys will be plain,
everyday sailors. You will find many hardships in the life of a Great
Lakes sailor, but then, if I know you, I do not believe you will mind
these very much," added Mr. Carrhart, with an indulgent smile.

"We certainly shall not," answered Rush, with emphasis. "The harder the
work the better it seems to agree with me."

"But not with me," retorted Jarvis.

The president laughed.

"That doesn't agree with what the reports show. For industry and
attention to duty you are a close second to your friend Rush. I
presume, Rush, that we shall be losing you one of these days?"

"What do you mean, sir?"

"You will wish to go on to the mills, eh?"

Steve thought briefly.

"Yes, sir; that is our ambition."

"I thought so. You may depend upon me to use my influence to further
your ambition, though I shall very much dislike to lose you."

"You are very kind, sir."

"What I hoped you would do was to remain with the mining end of our
business, where one of these days you would rise to the grade of general
superintendent. Perhaps after you have had your experiences at the other
end of the line, you will decide to come back. If I am still president
of the mining company you will be well taken care of, should you
return."

"Thank you, sir; perhaps we shall be back sooner than you think."

"And now for the subject at issue. Here is a letter to the master of the
'Wanderer,' Captain Simms, stating that you are to be taken on board his
ship as seamen. He does not know that it is your first cruise, but I
have an idea that he will learn the truth soon enough."

There was a grim smile on the face of the president.

"You will find Captain Simms a gruff old seadog. He is one of our
oldest and most trustworthy masters, and after you come to know him I am
sure you will like him very much. You have a fairly clear idea of what
is expected of you by the company. You boys are both keen and
resourceful and I expect a great deal from you. I know that you will see
all there is to be seen, and no doubt will see some things that have
been overlooked by older heads than yours."

"Have you any further directions to give before we leave you, sir?"
inquired Steve.

"None whatever. I wish you success, which I am sure you will have. You
need not go to the ore docks until this evening, unless you wish to, as
you probably will have some things to do in town."

After bidding the president good-bye, the boys took their leave. It
seemed only a few weeks since Steve Rush had first entered the office of
the president of the mining company looking for a job. The same office
boy with whom he had had trouble at the start of his career was on guard
at the door, but Steve had grown away from him. Steve, who with his
companion, Bob Jarvis, will be recognized at once as one of the Iron
Boys, was tall for his age and muscular. His manner of life had done
much for his physical well-being, and he was not the same boy who had
fought his way into the president's office, the account of which is set
forth in "THE IRON BOYS IN THE MINES."

It was there that Steve Rush and Bob Jarvis first became friends, after
they had met and fought a battle in a lonely drift in the Cousin Jack
Iron Mine; it was there that both lads proved their heroism by saving
the president and several other officials of the company, when the
entire company was threatened with death from a burning bag of dynamite.

It was in the Cousin Jack Mine that Steve and his newly found friend saw
the need of and invented a new tram railroad system, by which the mining
company was saved many thousands of dollars a year.

Again in "THE IRON BOYS AS FOREMEN," was told how the lads proved
themselves by saving the powder magazine from blowing up while the mine
was burning and the flames were creeping toward the deadly explosives.
It will be recalled that it was mainly through the heroic efforts of the
Iron Boys that the Red Rock Mine was saved from almost total
destruction, and that through their further efforts many lives were
undoubtedly saved. From then on they continued to distinguish
themselves, playing a conspicuous part in the great strike, in the end
exposing and unmasking a wicked and unscrupulous man who was leading
the miners on to commit deeds of violence.

They were the same boys who were now starting out on a new career for
the same company. In this instance the lads were to become sailors on
the inland seas, known as the Great Lakes. The lads were taking up this
new calling for the twofold purpose of learning still another branch of
the great corporation's business and they fondly hoped their work would
prove of importance to their employers.

The office of the president was located in Duluth, many miles from the
Iron Range where the boys had been working for the last two years.

Their first act after leaving the offices was to make their way down to
the water front to the ship canal, leading from the harbor out to Lake
Superior. Steve pointed out the äerial bridge to his companion. This was
a car carried through the air suspended from a giant truss over the
river, by which passengers were transferred across to Superior on the
other side. Bob had never seen this wonder before and was deeply
interested in it. To Steve Rush it was of particular interest, for he
had acquired no slight knowledge of engineering during his experience in
the mines up on the range.

Boats were moving in and out, huge lake freighters, ore boats and
passenger ships, for the lake traffic was in full cry now. After
strolling about for a time, Steve took his companion home with him, and
the rest of the afternoon was spent with Steve's mother. Supper
finished, the lads decided that they would get down to the ore docks, as
the ship would likely be in by that time.

Darkness had set in when they reached the docks. These docks, as those
who have had the misfortune to have to make their way over them are
aware, consist of tiers upon tiers of trestle. Over the tops, high in
the air, ore trains rumble in by day and by night, discharging their
cargoes of red ore into huge hoppers, from which the ore is loaded into
the boats, or Great Lakes ore carriers, as they are called.

Neither boy had ever been out on one of these trestles before, and the
task looked to be rather formidable.

"How are we going to do it?" demanded Bob, surveying the great structure
apprehensively.

"I guess the only way will be to keep going until we get somewhere or
fall off. I don't see the ship, but we shall see it when we get to the
top of the trestle."

Both boys narrowly missed being run down by an ore train as it was
shunted out on the trestle. The lads were in a dangerous place, but
they did not feel at all disturbed about it. Men were flitting about in
the dim light of half a dozen electric globes distributed along the top
of the trestle that loomed all of seventy-five feet above the water.

"There's a ship down there," cried Steve.

"Yes, and there's one on the other side," answered Bob. "Why, there are
ships at all of the docks along here. Are you sure we have hit the right
dock?"

"I am not sure of anything, except that we are likely to break our necks
if we don't look sharp," answered Rush, with a laugh. "We will ask the
first man we meet where the 'Wanderer' is. There comes some one now."

Rush hailed the man, a foreigner. The latter neither answered nor paid
the slightest attention to the question put to him.

"Thank you," murmured Rush.

"Mighty sociable lot of men up here," jeered Bob. "But then I suppose
they have to keep their minds on their work or fall off the trestle. I
prefer to work underground. In the mines, there's no danger of falling
down."

Ore was being shot down through the chutes into boats on each side of
the great trestle. There was the roar as of a great cataract as the red
dirt went hurtling down into the hold of the ships many feet below.

"Let's get down on one of the other levels, Steve. Then we'll drift over
to the heading at the other end."

"Anybody'd think you were down in a mine. These aren't levels; they are
tiers. You remind me of one of our miners who came down here to Duluth.
He went to a hotel, and in telling some of the boys about it, he said:
'We got in a swell cage with looking glasses all around the inside. The
cage tender jerked us up to the sixteenth level. We went along this till
we came to a crosscut; then they led us into a swell drift an' we struck
the heading and sat down.' What do you think of that?"

"That sounds like a lumber-jack more than it does a miner. He must have
had a sky parlor. I wonder what hotel he got into."

Suddenly a great shouting was set up far below where the boys were
standing, and further on toward the end of the trestle.

"Now what's the matter?" wondered Steve. Two long blasts of a
steamship's whistle sounded.

"There goes a ship. They're pulling out. I'll bet that's the
'Wanderer,'" shouted Bob.

"If if is, she will pull out without us. No, it can't be the 'Wanderer,'
for she did not come in until after sundown and it is not possible that
the ship could be loaded by this time. We'll simply have to find our
way down through the trestle somewhere and locate our ship. If we knew
which side the boat lay it would be easier for us. Can you see which
boat is leaving, Bob?"

"I think it is a boat from one of the other piers. I don't see anything
going away near us."

"Suppose we move out toward the end. Then we shall be able to see where
we are and what we are doing."

"And fall off?"

"Certainly not. We will walk along by the side of the track. There is a
railing here. No danger at all of falling."

The boys had their suit cases in their hands. They carried little
baggage, having been informed that there was no room on board for trunks
or luggage. Besides, the lads needed few clothes outside of several
suits of underwear.

As they stepped along, walking side by side, Steve pointed up at a
bright star.

"I wonder if we had better lay our course by that one----Grab me,
Bob--I'm falling!" suddenly cried Steve Rush.

Jarvis stretched out a quick hand, fastening upon Steve's collar. But
the movement threw Jarvis off his balance. He, too, toppled forward.

Rush had stepped into an open chute through which the red ore was
roaring down into the hold of the ship seventy-five feet below them.
Steve struggled valiantly to prevent himself from going in, and Bob
tried his best to keep from going in after.

"Let go, Bob; you'll go in, too!"

The warning came too late. Steve shot out of sight, leaving a fragment
of his coat collar in the hand of his companion. Then Bob went in, head
first.

Neither lad uttered a cry. They were not of the crying kind, and even
had they uttered a shout their voices would have been drowned in the
roar of the ore thundering into the hold of the big ship awaiting it
down in the slip.




CHAPTER II

THE IRON BOYS AS CARGO


THROUGH some fortunate twist of his body, Jarvis righted himself while
going through the big hopper into which the ore was shooting. He landed
feet first at the bottom of the hopper.

In the meantime Steve Rush, with a few seconds' start of his companion,
had gone on down through the hopper. He hit the long wooden ore chutes
that led down into the ship; he struck the chute with a heavy bump and
then went on at a speed that took his breath away. Steve was in a
sitting posture. Jarvis followed him at the same rate of speed, lying
flat on his back.

There was ore on all sides of them; in fact, they were riding on the
swift-moving ore; all about them was darkness, and even had there been
lights it is doubtful if the Iron Boys would have seen them, because of
the speed at which they were traveling.

Steve's mind was working with its usual rapidity. Had he known exactly
what awaited them below he might have been able to plan with more
certainty. He did reason, however, that they would probably have to pass
through a small opening when they reached the bottom of the chute. In
this he was wrong, though right across the chute where it entered the
ship was a heavy iron brace dividing the chute in half, which was placed
there to give the ship more rigidity.

"Lie flat!" shouted Rush, with quick instinct, himself dropping on his
back. He did not know whether Bob were following him or not. Jarvis was,
but he was in no need of the admonition to lie flat. He was as flat as
it was possible for him to be and he could not have straightened up had
it been to save his life.

Jarvis was close enough, however, to hear the warning cry. He opened his
mouth to answer, getting it full of red ore as a result. The ore got
down in his throat, sending him into a paroxysm of choking, sneezing and
growling that was lost in the noise about him.

Suddenly Steve felt himself shooting through space. He realized, in that
instant, that he had left the chute. A few seconds more and he struck
heavily on his feet, bounded into the air, then plunged forward head
first.

The lad landed on his stomach, slipped down a conical pile of ore to the
bottom, his head striking the side of the ship, doubling him up and
leaving him stunned and unconscious.

Jarvis, who was not far behind him, went through very much the same
experience, save that he turned a somersault when he left the chute,
landing flat on his back on the pile of ore. His feet drove against the
side of the ship with the force of a battering-ram, backed by the full
weight of the lad's body. The effect was nearly the same as it had been
in the case of Rush. Bob was stunned. He, too, lay still, after curling
up against the vessel's side.

"Hey, what's that?" a voice had shouted as the boys disappeared through
the hatches.

"What's what?"

"I thought I saw something besides ore go through the chute in number
seven hatch."

"You're seeing things!"

"Maybe I am."

"Close number seven hatch!" shouted the second mate, and the two deck
hands, after the chute had been hoisted a little above the deck, slid
the heavy hatch cover into place. All the ore that was needed had gone
in through that hatch. The ship was nearly loaded. All that was now
required was a few car-loads at the ends to trim the ship properly,
after which she would be ready to sail.

Within the next ten minutes the rest of the ore had been shipped. With
loud crashings, interspersed with hoarse shouts, harshly-uttered
commands and an occasional toot of warning from the ship's whistle, the
hatch-covers were put in place and the ship made ready for her journey
down the Great Lakes.

There followed a moment of inactivity; then came a blast of the whistle
fully a minute in duration. It was the signal that the ship was about to
back out of her slip, warning all other craft to keep clear.

The propeller began to churn the waters of the harbor and the ore
carrier, with its cargo of ten thousand tons of iron ore, backed slowly
out into the stream.

Bob Jarvis rolled over until he was practically standing on his head and
shoulders. He toppled over on his back with a jolt that woke him up. The
lad gave a kick and some one grunted.

"Hey, there, take your foot out of my stomach, whoever you are. Is that
you, Bob?"

"I--I don't know. Hello, Steve, that you?"

"I guess it's both of us. Ugh! My mouth is so full of ore that I can
hard--hardly talk."

"I've got a dark red taste in my own mouth. I've swallowed enough ore to
make a steel rail. Do you know where we are?"

"We have fallen into the hold of a ship, and we are lucky that we are
not dead."

"Maybe we are and don't know it," jeered Jarvis, pulling himself up. He
tried to get to his feet, but the ore slipped from under him, leaving
him at the bottom against the side of the vessel again.

"Quit it!" shouted Steve. "Are you trying to bury me?"

The latter was on his feet too, brushing the dirt from mouth, eyes, nose
and ears. Bob had sent a quantity of it sliding down the chute.

"I can't help it. What's the matter with you? What do you think about
this business?"

"I don't think, I know. We are in a nice fix."

"Think so?"

"I told you I didn't think," retorted Steve in a tone of slight
irritation.

"Glad you admit it."

"We have been dumped into the hold of an ore vessel. I don't know
whether or not there is any way to get out, and it is sure that the
hatches will not be opened again until the vessel reaches her
destination."

"How long will that be?"

"That depends upon where they are going. If they are bound for any of
the Lake Erie ports I should imagine it would take a week or more."

Bob groaned.

"I'm going to yell."

"Yell, if you can. I've too much ore in my mouth to make much of a
noise."

Jarvis raised his voice in a shout. It did not seem to attract any
attention. The lad shouted again and again. By this time the ship was
trembling from stem to stern under the jar of the propeller that was
beating the water at many hundred revolutions a minute.

"Nobody on this ship, I guess," muttered Bob. "Come, suggest something.
You've always got something to say," urged Jarvis.

"I was about to say that you might as well save your breath. No one can
hear us through the thick decks; in fact, I presume every one has turned
in except those on watch forward, and the engine room crews at the rear
end of the ship."

"Then I am going to lie down and go to sleep," declared Jarvis.

"Don't do anything of the sort. The ore is likely to slide down and bury
you. The less disturbance we make here the better it will be for us."

"Why didn't you think of that before we fell in? I suppose we are pretty
deep down in the ship, aren't we?"

"About as close to the bottom as we can get without drowning. We will
keep as quiet as possible until we can plan some way of helping
ourselves out of this predicament."

Bob grunted unintelligibly. For some time after this the Iron Boys
leaned against the side of the ship, Steve trying to plan some way out
of the difficulty, Bob growling inwardly over the hard luck that had
befallen them.

All at once the ship gave a quick, sudden lurch. Jarvis lost his
balance, falling over on his face. The ore came down in a deluge,
covering him from head to feet before he had sufficient time to scramble
out of the way. Steve, bracing himself against the side of the ship,
stooped over and helped his companion to his feet.

"The old tub's going to tip over," gasped Jarvis. "What's the matter
with her?"

"Nothing is wrong. We have gotten out of the ship canal and into the
open water of Lake Superior. There must be considerable sea. Don't you
hear the waves smashing against the sides of the ship?"

"It isn't what I hear, but what I feel," answered Bob faintly. "I feel
queer. My head's spinning like a top. Is yours?"

"No; I can't say that it is. Are you getting seasick?"

"How do I know? I have never been seasick. How does it feel to be that
way?"

"I have heard that when people are seasick they don't care very much
whether they live or die."

"Then--then--I wish I could die right here, if it would make me forget
that awful goneness under my belt. Ugh!"

Bob settled down against the side of the ship, moaning.

"Don't be a baby. Get up and be a man."

"I--I don't want to be a man. I--I'd rather be a wooden image, then I
wouldn't care what happened. In case the ship went down I could float
and----"

Bob's words were lost in an anguished moan. Steve felt far from
comfortable, but he set his teeth and made a resolve not to give up.

"The sea is coming up, Bob," announced Rush after a long period of
silence.

"The--the sea----? It's my opinion that something else will be coming up
soon if things don't stop moving around the way--the way they are doing
now."

Steve laughed.

"Remember, Bob, that we are not likely to get anything in our stomachs
for some days. Be careful."

Bob groaned.

"If I ever get anything solid under my feet I'll take it out of you for
that! That's a mean trick to play on a fellow when he's in the shape I'm
in at this minute. How long do you suppose the noise outside will keep
up?"

"I don't know. Probably all the way down Superior."

"And how far is that?"

"Let me see. I think Mr. Carrhart said the trip to the--the Soo took
thirty-six hours."

"Help!" muttered Jarvis faintly.

"Now, I want you to brace up. Come on, get up. If you don't I'll trounce
you and make you forget your troubles."

"Yes, you can talk, but if you felt as badly as I do, you wouldn't spout
that way. You; couldn't without--without----"

"Perhaps I _do_ feel badly, but I may have the will power to fight it
out."

Steve reached down and pulled Jarvis up beside him. The latter
protested, but it did him no good, for he was apparently unable to offer
any resistance. Rush threw an arm about his companion and began talking
about other subjects in order to divert Bob's mind from his sufferings,
for his was a real case of seasickness.

In the meantime the sea seemed to be rising, though as a matter of fact
there was little sea on. The short, sharp waves of the lake were moving
the big, flat-bottomed steamer almost as roughly as they would have
moved a little row boat, for the ore carriers are proverbial rollers.

After a time Jarvis began to feel easier, and the lads, lulled by the
motion of the ship, grew sleepy. Steve did not dare allow himself to go
to sleep. He knew, full well, that such a thing would be dangerous. A
lurch of the vessel might cover their heads with dirt and smother them
to death before they were able to extricate themselves. Then again, they
might be buried too deeply to dig their way out at all.

"Lean up against me, Bob. No need of our both standing here suffering
for sleep. If you get too heavy I'll let you drop; then I guess you will
wake up."

Bob leaned heavily on his companion. He would have done so in a moment
more at any rate, for his eyelids seemed to weigh a ton. The lad was
asleep almost instantly. After a time Steve's eyelids also drooped. He
could hold them up no longer. Then he went to sleep, braced against the
wall of the hull, his companion sleeping soundly in his arms.

There could be but one result of this. They had been asleep but a few
moments before, in a lurch of the ship, Rush toppled over with Jarvis on
top of him, a ton or more of ore banked up about them.

"Get up! Get up!" shouted Steve, as soon as he was able to get his mouth
free of the red ore.

Jarvis muttered, and Steve was obliged to push his companion off by
sheer force. The lad pinched and pounded himself, to awaken his dulled
senses thoroughly, then he began to punch Jarvis about with his clenched
fists.

"Leggo! Quit that, or I'll----"

Bob tried to strike Steve, but instead, he measured his length on the
ore pile.

"I'm trying to get you awake, and if you don't want to be roughly
handled you'd better pull yourself together," warned Steve.

"I'll get even with you for this one," growled Jarvis. "What's the use
in trying to keep awake?"

"I've answered that question already. Besides, I am going to try to find
some way out of this hold."

"You'll have a nice time doing it," growled Jarvis.

"I expect to have. But I know there must be some way. You keep close to
me."

"What are you going to do?"

"Feel my way along the side of the ship to see if I can get hold of a
ladder or something that we can climb up."

"I couldn't climb a step ladder without falling off, the way I feel
now," objected Jarvis.




CHAPTER III

A SURPRISED SKIPPER


"NO use!" groaned Jarvis. "There isn't a ghost of a chance of our
getting out of this until the old tub gets to some place or other. We're
done for, this time. I wish I had stayed in the mines, where I belong,
instead of following along after you. You can get into more trouble than
any other fellow I ever knew."

"Never mind," laughed Steve. "We're the Iron Boys. Why shouldn't we
travel as part of the iron ore cargo? The only thing that troubles me is
that we have lost our ship. The 'Wanderer' will sail to-night with two
men short, and--but I care more about what Mr. Carrhart will think when
he hears that we missed our boat. He will think us a couple of stupid
boys, and he will be justified in so thinking."

"I don't care what he thinks," growled Bob. "What's bothering me now is
my stomach, and the thought of how I'm going to get out of this."

Steve did not reply. An idea had occurred to him. Gathering up a handful
of soft ore he tossed it up over His head. Some of the stuff showered
down over Bob Jarvis, causing that young man to protest vigorously. A
large portion of the stuff, however, did not come down. Steve heard it
drop on metal, roll a little way then stop.

"Quit that, now," protested Jarvis. "What on earth are you trying to do?
I can't appreciate a joke to-night."

"This is not a joke," answered Steve, gathering up another handful. "I
am saving your life."

"Huh! Pleasant way you have of doing the trick."

Several large chunks of ore were tossed up with the same result. They
did not roll back into the hold.

"I've got it, Bob," exulted the Iron Boy.

"You're wrong there. I got most of it myself."

"Listen! There is a platform or passageway running along this side of
the ship above our heads. I suspected there must be something of the
sort, for surely they have to get into the hold occasionally----"

"Above our heads, you say, eh?"

"Yes."

"Precious lot of good that will do us," grunted Bob.

"That depends upon whether or not you have any spunk left."

"I guess I've got as much of that kind of stuff as you have. But I'm
sick--I'm a sick man, Steve Rush!"

"Forget it, and then you'll be a brave man. At all events I'll tell you
what I want you to do."

"Go ahead. I can't be any worse off than I am."

"I am going to brace myself here against the side, and I want you to
climb up to my shoulders. You ought not to have any difficulty in
standing on them, when once you get up, for you will have the side of
the hull to lean against."

"Can't do it; can't do it at all. Why don't you do it yourself, instead
of trying to make me do so when you know how sick I am?"

"All right, if you want me to stand on your neck. I am offering you the
easiest part of the plan."

"I guess you won't stand on my neck! All right; I'll be the goat. What
am I to do when I get up to where I can stand on _your_ neck?"

"Reach up for the platform. If you can get it, all you have to do is to
pull yourself up. Then, after you are once up you can, perhaps, reach
over and give me a hand."

"Fine, fine!" jeered Jarvis. "I wish I could talk as easily as you. Why,
I'd hire out to spout in a political campaign and----"

"Don't waste breath. I am ready."

Feeling his way in the darkness, Bob finally got hold of his companion.
It was not a difficult task for him, strong and athletic as he was, to
climb to Rush's shoulders. The difficulty was in staying on the
shoulders after he once got there.

Bob didn't stay long. He toppled over backwards with a quick roll of the
ship, landing high up on the ore pile, sliding down to the bottom,
protesting and growling at the boy who had been the cause of his
downfall.

"Do it yourself!" Jarvis shouted after getting to his feet once more.

"Come on, now! You're all right."

After a little urging Jarvis succeeded in reaching his chum's shoulders
once more.

"Now, be careful! I will try to hold you," said Steve grasping his
companion's ankles.

"I've got hold of it. I've got the platform. It's only a little above my
waist. Leggo my legs."

Steve stepped out from under so suddenly that Jarvis was left dangling
in the air.

The latter was too busy in trying to pull himself up, to enable him to
make any retort. He scrambled to the passageway or platform, out of
breath and dizzy. For a few moments Bob lay flat on the support beneath
him, groaning.

"Don't be a tenderfoot. What's the matter?" called Steve.

"Everything's the matter. I'm all shot to pieces--I'm all falling apart
inside----"

"Take your time. When you feel able give me a hand. Is there any railing
around the walk?"

"Yes; how did you know?"

"I just guessed it, that's all."

"All right; come on."

Bob leaned as far over as he could, without falling, and tried to reach
the upraised hands of his companion.

"Can't make it. You've got to grow a little first," Jarvis jeered.

"We are going to make it. I'm going to back up on the ore and take a
running jump. You stand by ready to catch me. Better twist your legs
about a railing post if there is such a thing handy."

"I'm waiting for you. I hope you bump your nose until it bleeds."

But Steve Rush did not bump his nose. He took a running jump, nearly
losing his foothold in starting. By a lucky chance he landed half way
up the side of the hold, right against Bob's hands. Bob grasped him
about the waist.

"Now, pull me up," commanded Rush.

"I can't. I'm a sick man, I tell you."

"Fudge! Just hang on and I will do the rest, but for goodness' sake
don't let go and fall off."

"Why should I let go? You don't think I am so anxious to get down there
as all that, do you?"

Steve climbed nimbly up the body of his companion until he found himself
able to reach the rail with one hand. It was then but the work of a
moment to pull himself up to the platform.

"There, now we're all right," exclaimed Rush triumphantly.

"No, we're all wrong. I tell you I'm a sick man," protested Jarvis.

"If I hear you say that again, I am likely to throw you off. You make me
sick."

"Hope I do. Then you'll know how I feel."

"This is better than I had hoped for," said Steve, not heeding his
friend's ill-natured remark. "They've got to get up early in the morning
if they want to down the Iron Boys, I tell you," he chuckled.

"It strikes me that we downed ourselves pretty thoroughly. Well, are we
going to get out of here to-night?"

"We are going to make an effort to do so at once. Keep hold of the rail
and follow me. Look out where you step. We don't want to take any more
tumbles, or----"

"Oh, that's all right. I couldn't feel any worse if I fell off from a
house or the top of a mine shaft."

The two moved along cautiously, Steve feeling his way with feet and
hands. They were going toward the stern of the ship, though they were
not aware of the fact. The passageway, constructed for the purpose of
getting about on the inside of the hull, was narrow, built of metal, but
without anything on it to bar their progress.

They made their way around the stern, which, inside the ship, was next
to the engine room. Rush felt the throb of the engines near him and knew
then that they were near the stern. They were separated from the engine
room by a bulkhead and there was no opening into the engine compartment
from the cargo-carrying part of the hull.

"We shall have to work our way to the other end," Steve said.

The boys, with Steve in the lead, continued their cautious creeping
around the ship until finally they had reached the forward end. Steve's
hands came in contact with a door.

"Oh, pshaw, it's locked," he cried. "This is too bad."

"Kick it in," suggested Bob, as the most practical way out of the
difficulty.

"I can't; it's locked."

"And after all the trouble we have been put to!"

"At least, Bob, we have found a place where we shall be able to lie down
and go to sleep in safety. That is surely worth all the trouble we have
been put to, as you call it."

"That's so. I hadn't thought of it in that light before. And I'm such a
sick----"

"You know what I told you."

Jarvis did not complete what he was saying.

"Good night."

Bob threw himself down on the hard floor and went to sleep. Steve
decided that this was the best thing they could do, so he, too, lay down
and was sound asleep at once. Neither lad awakened for hours. Steve
finally opened his eyes and yawned. A ray of light that had penetrated
between a thin joint between a hatch cover and its frame, hit his left
eye squarely.

"Wake up, Bob," he cried.

"Go 'way! Don't bother me. I'm having my beauty sleep."

Steve sprang up, shaking the other boy roughly.

"It's daylight. Come on; we've got to make a break to get out of here
now, if we do it at all. I just heard some one tramping along the deck
overhead."

Bob sat up rubbing his eyes sleepily. He would much have preferred to
sleep longer, but he knew full well that, if he tried it, Steve Rush
would fall upon him and make life miserable for him for the next few
minutes. So Jarvis got up, grumbling.

"Where does that door lead to?" he demanded, pointing to a door that
Steve had not yet seen.

A faint light in the hold made it possible to see a short distance away.
Steve glanced at the door, then sprang toward it.

"Hurrah, it is unlocked!"

"And don't forget that I found it. I can see like an owl, even if I am
sick----"

Steve had jerked the door open, revealing a dark chamber. It proved to
be the chain and anchor room where odds and ends of the ship were
stored.

After a little groping about in this chamber, they came upon a
companion-way, up which they hurried. There they met with another door,
but this one too was unlocked. Rush opened it and stepped into the full
light of day.

For the moment the light blinded both. The boys stood there, rubbing
their eyes, blinking, and breathing in the fresh air of the lake.

"Great!" exclaimed Steve.

The ship was rolling gently. They glanced about them, but there was no
land in sight. Everything was a sea of green, with white-capped combers
tracing long lines of white against the deep green.

"Beautiful, isn't it, old chap?"

"It might be, if there were some land in sight. Where's everybody?"

"I don't know, but we will find out."

Smoke was rolling from the funnel of the steamer, a ribbon of white
steam from the exhaust pipe trailing off astern and losing itself in the
black smoke.

"This is a beautiful sight, even if we have lost our boat and gone to
sea on an unknown craft," exclaimed Rush, his eyes glistening.

"Pshaw!" grunted Jarvis.

"I guess it is about time we looked up some one and found out whether we
are headed for the Soo, or----"

"Or the North Pole," added Jarvis.

"Well, who are you?" demanded a gruff voice just behind the lads.

The Iron Boys wheeled sharply.

They found themselves facing a thick-set man, whose face, from exposure
to wind and sunshine, was almost fiery red. He was surveying the boys
from head to foot with a look of stern disapproval.

Steve and Bob, with their torn and soiled clothes, _did_ present a most
disreputable appearance. Their hair was unkempt and full of red ore,
while their linen, white and clean when they left home on the previous
day, now also partook of the color of the iron ore in which they had
wallowed for several hours.

"May I ask who you are, sir?" questioned Steve politely.

"I am the captain of this ship, and, unless you answer my question
pretty lively, I'll have you ironed and thrown into the hold."

"We have just come from there, sir," interrupted Bob.

"That is quite evident from your appearance. You are stowaways, eh?"

"No, sir; we got into the ship by accident, last night, and could not
get out. We tried to attract attention, but were unable to do so."

"What were you doing around the ship?"

"We were to ship on the 'Wanderer.' We lost our way on the docks and
fell into the hold of this ship. We had a hard time getting out, but
here we are, hoping to get to our ship as soon as we get to the next
stop."

It was the captain's turn to look astonished.




CHAPTER IV

THE BOYS STAND THE TEST


"YOU want to get on board the 'Wanderer,' eh?"

"Yes, sir."

"What for?"

"I have told you we were to ship on her--we were to work on board."

"What were you to do on board?"

"We were to work at whatever we were set at."

"Hm-m-m!" mused the red-faced skipper. "Had your breakfast?"

"No, sir; we have not had anything to eat since we ate luncheon
yesterday noon."

"Hm-m-m-m. Come with me."

The captain led the way aft over the decks, along a walk at the side of
the hatches, which the lads observed were snugly battened down. Their
conductor passed on by the engine house, clear to the stern of the
vessel, where he entered the door of the deck-house.

"Jake!" he called sharply, poking his head into the room.

A white-capped, white-aproned man suddenly made his appearance.

"Vat iss?" demanded the ship's cook.

"Give these boys some breakfast."

Jake surveyed the boys critically before replying.

"_Ja_," he said, turning back into his kitchen.

"Sit down at the table. When you have finished eating come forward and I
will talk with you."

"Thank you. Where shall we find you, sir?" asked Rush.

"If I'm not in the wheel house I'll be somewhere else."

"I hope you won't take it into your head to meet us in the hold,"
interjected Jarvis. "We have had hold enough to hold us for the rest of
our lives."

"Don't get smart, young man," snapped the master, turning and leaving
the room.

"I wouldn't get funny with the captain, were I in your place," warned
Steve. "He evidently doesn't appreciate your jokes. Smell that
breakfast?"

"You bet I do, but smelling won't help much."

Jake soon brought in a satisfying meal, to which the boys helped
themselves liberally. The cook stood about watching them questioningly
for a time, but, as the boys seemed too busy to open a conversation with
him, he turned back to his galley with a deep grunt of disapproval.

After having finished their meal the Iron Boys went out on deck, where
for a time they stood leaning over the rail looking down into the
foaming water slipping past the side of the ship.

"We had better be going forward, Bob," suggested Steve.

On the way forward they passed several deck hands at work. Some were
sweeping, others washing down the decks with a hose and a scrub brush.

"That's going to be our job, I guess," grinned Bob.

"Then, it's me for the mines, Steve Rush!"

Inquiring for the captain, they were told that he was in his cabin just
under the pilot-house. They hurried there, and, knocking, were told to
enter. The captain's quarters they found, to their surprise, to be
luxurious. There was an observation room extending across the ship, with
eight windows in front, looking out on the sea ahead of the ship. Off
from this observation room and to the rear of it were two handsome
bedrooms, furnished with brass bedsteads and hung with silk draperies.

Bob looked around for a mat on which to wipe his feet.

The captain, seated at a desk, turned around in his chair, surveying the
boys critically.

"You certainly are not very handsome to look at," was his comment,
uttered in a gruff tone.

"No, sir, not very," admitted Steve, flushing as he looked down at his
soiled clothes.

"Do we have to dress up on this ship?" demanded Jarvis, with some heat.

"You will have to do one thing--preserve a respectful attitude toward
the commanding officer, and take orders without giving any back talk,"
replied the master, eyeing the boy sternly.

"We aren't working on this ship."

"Perhaps you think you are not, but you are."

"We are working, or going to work, on the 'Wanderer,'" answered Bob.

"That is what I am saying. This is the 'Wanderer.'"

"The 'Wanderer'?" exclaimed the lads.

"Yes."

"Then we did fall into luck, after all."

"It looks that way, though you may change your minds before you've been
aboard long. Which of you is which?"

"I am Steve Rush. This is Bob Jarvis."

"Glad to meet you, young gentlemen."

They could not tell if the captain intended the words to be sarcastic,
or whether he meant to be polite to them. They were rather inclined to
the former opinion.

"When do we go to work?" demanded Jarvis.

"Now; at once. We don't have any lazybones on board this ship. Are you
men strong?"

"Yes, sir; I think so," replied Steve, smiling.

"Can you shovel coal?"

"We can shovel anything that we are able to lift."

"Very well, then; I'll put you in the stoke hole."

"What kind of a hole is that?" questioned Jarvis.

"That is the place where the black-faced gang shovel the fuel under the
boilers to make the ship move along."

"Oh, you mean the firemen?"

"That's the scientific name. The common name is stoker. I'll send you
down to the chief engineer, and he will give you a trick. You'll have to
work like sixty, and if you don't you'll get off at the Soo and foot it
back home," continued the skipper gruffly.

If Steve were disappointed, or objected to the work that had been
assigned to them, he made no comment. Jarvis, however, made no secret of
his displeasure. He grumbled under his breath, despite the warning looks
directed at him by Steve Rush.

Captain Simms pushed a button, and a few minutes later a short man,
clean shaven, red of face like the captain, entered.

"This is Mr. Major, the first mate. He is next in rank to the master. He
will take you to the chief engineer for your assignment."

"Where do we sleep?" asked Jarvis.

"I had nearly forgotten that. You will show the boys their cabin, Mr.
Major."

The first mate nodded. His was a surly face, and the lads did not
approve of him at first. However, upon gaining the deck the first mate
spoke to them in a tone that was kind and helpful.

"This is your first time out, isn't it, boys?" he asked.

"Yes, sir," replied Steve.

"Well, you'll get along all right. Do your work well and you will find
that Captain Simms will take to you all right. You will have enough time
off to rest and sleep, though the work is pretty steady on the lakes.
You will find this is the case when we are in port, even more than when
on the move. The loading and unloading keeps all hands at their
stations. You have been in the mines, have you not?"

"Yes, sir."

"We were foremen," interjected Bob.

The mate glanced at them in surprise.

"I should think you would have stayed there, then. The pay is better and
the hours more regular."

"We wished to learn this end of the business," answered Steve somewhat
shortly.

A few minutes later they were introduced to Mr. Macrae, the chief
engineer, in whose department they were to begin their work on a lake
steamer. The chief was a man of few words, these words always to the
point. The mate explained to him the disposition Captain Simms wished
made of the boys.

"Ever fire any?" demanded the chief.

Steve shook his head.

"Nothing more than a cook stove," spoke up Jarvis, with a twinkle in his
eyes, at which the chief's face threatened for a few seconds to relax
into a smile. Instead, it drew down harshly and his lips set more firmly
together.

"Humph! Nice couple to send me, and short-handed in the stoke hole, as
it is. Well, you'll fire all right, and you'll find it ain't no six-day
stove-firing, either."

"When do we go on?" asked Rush.

"I guess now is as good a time as any. Where's your jumpers?"

Steve glanced at his companion quizzically.

"Did we leave our bags down in the hold, Bob?"

"I guess that's where we left them, sure enough."

The mate sent a deck hand for the bags of the boys, after which they
retired to the cabin set aside for them at the stern of the ship, and
began preparing for their new work. They went on duty at nine o'clock,
being told that they would take a six-hour trick, with a six-hour
lay-off, after which they would report for duty again.

The chief took the boys below, introduced them to the foreman of the
fire room, then stood about while the foreman instructed them in their
duties. These consisted in keeping the fire up under two boilers. They
were obliged to throw the coal in many feet under the boiler, which
required both skill and strength.

When the fire doors were closed, the heat was still stifling, but when
the doors were thrown open waves of white hot heat leaped out enveloping
the stokers. The first time that Jarvis essayed the feat he burned his
eyebrows off by getting too close to the door and facing it full.

Bob sprang back with a growl that was half howl. As soon as he could get
the door closed he ran to the water barrel, sticking his head clear
under. The stoke-room gang howled uproariously.

"A lubber, eh?" laughed one of the stokers. "You'll get all the hotness
you want before you get out of this hole. How about you, pretty boy?"
turning to address Steve.

"You look out for your own furnaces, old man; I'll attend to mine, and
if I get stuck I'll ask somebody who knows."

The gang laughed at this, and the fellow whom Rush had answered so
sharply, glared angrily at the tall, slender lad who was throwing coal
into the white-hot mouth of the furnace. He was doing his work almost as
methodically as though he was used to it, save that his aim was not
quite as sure as in the case of the more experienced men.

After having watched the boys at work for a few minutes, Mr. Macrae
nodded to himself, then climbed up the ladders to the deck. He met the
master soon after.

"Get those boys to work?" demanded Captain Simms.

"Yes."

"Any good?"

"Pretty likely pair. They have the strength of yearling bulls. Where did
they come from? I didn't see them when we came out."

"No, they came out of the hold," grinned Captain Simms.

"Out of the hold?"

"Yes; funny thing about that. They boarded the ship with a load of ore."

The captain went on to explain how the boys came to be on board.

"Doesn't it strike you as peculiar that they are sent down here in this
way?"

"Not at all, Mac. They want to learn the business. Mr. Carrhart sent me
a line yesterday explaining the case. Said they were a fine pair, and he
wanted to see them get along."

"Then why put them in the hole?"

"Don't you think that will try them out as quickly as anything else?"
said the captain.

"I guess that's right," admitted the chief engineer. "And we need them
just now, too. I'm glad they are on board, even if they are green hands.
But young Rush is going to be a winner, and no mistake."

"What's the matter with the other one?"

"Nothing, except that he is a little fresh at times."

"So I already have observed. You will take that out of him, Mac."

"I'll do that all right, or break his back in the trying. The stoke hole
isn't any place for weaklings, as you and I know."

"Keep me posted. I want to know about them. If they make good maybe I'll
change them, giving them a berth on deck."

"We'd better give them a good try-out first," advised the chief.

"Certainly."

In the meantime the subjects of this discussion were toiling with might
and main far down below the water level. The ship seemed much steadier
down there, and there was scarcely any roll perceptible. Had it not been
for the terrific heat the youngsters would not have minded the work so
much. However, as the day drew on they began to feel the strain.

The gong, announcing the change of watch, sounded loud and startling.
They did not give it any heed, but kept right on shoveling.

"Well, are you fellows going to work right through the next trick?"
asked the foreman.

"Have we finished?" questioned Bob innocently.

"Until nine o'clock to-night."

The lads put down their shovels with a sigh of relief.

"Is there such a thing as a bath room that we can use?" questioned Rush.

"What? Do you fellows ever wash?" demanded the stoker who had had the
words with Steve earlier in the day.

"That depends upon the company we have been in," answered the lad
sharply. "Did you tell me about the bath room, sir?"

The foreman could not repress a grin. He pointed up the companion
ladder.

"You will find one on the deck above this. First door to the right."

"Thank you, sir."

Steve began climbing up the ladder, followed by Bob and, a few rungs
behind, by the surly stoker who had sought to have fun with the Iron
Boys and had got the worst of the argument in each case.

Their first trick on board an ore carrier had been gotten through
successfully, but it was about the hardest six hours the lads remembered
ever having put in. They hurried out into the air before taking a bath.
Never had fresh air smelled so sweet as it did that day. The lads were
black, the coating of soot on their faces being streaked with
perspiration, and their clothes could have been no wetter had they just
come up from the sea.

"This is about the limit!" laughed Bob Jarvis. "Here I am, without any
eyebrows and half my beautiful locks burned away, all because you and I
have ambitions to get on in the world. Honestly, Steve, is it worth it?"

"You know it is, Bob Jarvis," answered the Iron Boy, gazing straight
into the inflamed, soot-framed eyes of his companion.




CHAPTER V

TROUBLE IN THE STOKE HOLE


"I'LL put you to sleep one of these fine days, young feller," greeted
the stoker with whom Steve had had the words. The boys had just turned
to go to their bath, Bob already having entered the deck house.

"Are you addressing me?" demanded Steve coldly.

"I'm talking to you."

"Forget it," said the lad, brushing past the soot-begrimed stoker and
hurrying in to his bath.

That was the beginning of it. Surely Steve had not tried to make an
enemy of the man, but he had done so just the same, and an enemy whom he
was to hear from ere many days had passed.

Meeting the first mate later in the day Steve asked who the man was.

"The name he gave on coming aboard was Smith. I don't know anything
about him. He has never sailed with us before, but I understand he knows
his business--that is, he is a good stoker and has been on ships before.
Why do you ask?"

"I wondered," answered Steve evasively.

"Has he been bothering you?"

"Oh, no; I am not very much bothered," answered the lad, with a smile.

The boys' cabin was on the starboard or right side of the ship. It was a
pleasant little room, commanding a view out over the water. There were
two berths in the cabin, a little desk and a couple of steamship
pictures, the door of the cabin opening out to the deck.

They felt very much at home in their new quarters, and after the first
good sleep there they were ready for anything that might be required of
them.

The new stokers took their evening trick, each determined to hold up his
end of the work with the rest of the men. And each did. Not a man in
that hot, fiery pit shoveled more coal on that watch, or shoveled it to
better advantage than did the Iron Boys.

The man Smith shoveled at the furnace door next to Steve Rush, and the
former lost no opportunity to hurl rough jokes and taunts at the Iron
Boy. These were, in most instances, greeted with howls of delight by the
other stokers, who seemed to take the keenest pleasure in seeing the two
boys humiliated.

Steve took it all good-naturedly, but Jarvis had to exercise great
self-restraint to keep himself in check. He could hardly resist taking
it out of the big bully.

Smith was tall and angular, his small, beady eyes setting more closely
together than was good to look upon. In addition to this there was a
slight slant to them, giving him almost the appearance of an Oriental.

Steve shrewdly came to the conclusion that Smith was a bad man, and
furthermore, the boy decided in his own mind that the man had a past,
for Rush was a keen observer, few things passing him unobserved.

All at once, Smith's shovel slipped, showering Steve with coal from head
to foot. The sharp edges of the chunks of coal cut the boy's head and
one cheek until the blood came.

Rush calmly brushed himself off, wiped the blood from his head and face
amid the jeers of the stokers. Then he turned to the grinning Smith.

"Did you do that on purpose?" demanded the lad coolly.

"I reckon it was an accident, kid. What would you do if it wasn't?"

"I am not making any threats, but I hope it will not happen again."

"He did it on purpose," volunteered Bob.

"Never mind, Bob; keep out of this. Mr. Smith had a dizzy spell and he
couldn't see where he was tossing the coal. He isn't wholly responsible
for what he is doing."

Smith uttered a growl.

"You making sport of me?" he demanded, in a surly tone.

"Oh, no; I couldn't think of that, because I don't see anything funny
about you. You are the most serious proposition I ever set eyes on."

Smith was not grinning now. His face had drawn down into harsh, menacing
lines, his chin settling close to his chest, his eyes narrowing to mere
slits. Rush was watching him as the boy carelessly tossed a shovel of
coal into the furnace.

Smith drew a long breath, grabbed up his shovel and began firing once
more. The critical stage had been passed for the moment, but Rush knew
that sooner or later there would be a clash of some sort, and he knew,
too, that when it did come the tough stokers would side with their own
companion.

Nothing more of a serious nature occurred in that watch, though the boys
kept on the lookout for trouble.

It was in the early morning watch, however, when the ship's company was
sleeping, all save those who were on watch at the time, that there came
a renewal of the trouble--when the threatened disturbance came to a
head.

The boys had arranged that when the back of either was turned to the
stoker the other should keep his eyes open. This arrangement they had
carried out faithfully until four o'clock in the morning arrived. Day
was breaking, but the toilers down in the depths of the stoke hole could
not see the coming of the day. They would not have noticed it had they
been able to for the reasons that their minds were wholly absorbed with
other matters.

Suddenly a second shower of coal rained over Steve Rush from the shovel
of the man Smith.

Steve turned sharply, fixing his eyes on Jarvis. The latter nodded,
meaning that Smith had thrown the coal deliberately.

"That's the time you did it on purpose, Mister man," said Steve in his
usual calm voice.

"Well, supposing I did? What you going to do about it?"

"This!"

Whack!

The Iron Boy's fist smote the stoker a powerful blow in the face. Smith
toppled over against the hot boiler. Rush saw at once that the fellow
would be seriously burned. Leaping forward he dragged the man away,
dropping him on the coal heap.

For the moment the stokers were so amazed at the exhibition of strength
and skill on the part of Steve Rush that they could do no more than
gape and gaze.

The knocked-out stoker struggled to his feet. His eyes were bloodshot
and his face distorted with passion.

"I would suggest that we put off our dispute until we have nothing else
to do," suggested Steve. "You mustn't forget that we are on duty now,
and the captain will discipline us if we have trouble here."

With a bellow of rage, Smith rushed his young antagonist. The blow that
he got this time spun the fellow around, landing him on his face on the
coal heap. The blow had reached him before his own fists were fairly up
in position. Steve knew that what was to be done must be done quickly.
He loathed such fights, but he was among rough men. He had been among
rough men ever since he had started out in the mines, and it was a case
of fighting one's battles or going down with serious injuries, or
perhaps worse. Experience had told him that the quicker such affairs
were ended the better for all concerned, and that the man who landed the
first effective blow was more than likely to win the fight.

Steve usually did land first.

Bob was dancing about with glowing eyes.

"Please somebody hit _me_!" he begged. "I've got to get into the row.
I've got to punch some of you wooden heads, or you'll never be
satisfied; neither will I."

"Give them the coal. Bury them!" roared a voice.

Smith leaped to his feet, and stretching out a hand threw open a furnace
door.

"I'll give the little fiend a toasting!" he howled.

"No, no--the coal!" protested the others.

The Iron Boys saw at once that matters had taken a more serious turn
than they had looked for. The lads slowly backed up against a bulk head,
their hands resting easily on their shovels.

"I would suggest that you men had better get to work," said Rush. "The
steam will be going down in a minute or so, then you'll hear from the
chief engineer."

He had hoped to call them back to their duty, and thus avoid what was
before them.

"The coal, the coal!"

With one accord the stokers thrust their shovels into the coal pile.

Ten shovels of hard coal were hurled at the Iron Boys with unerring aim
and at almost projectile speed.

"Down!" shouted Rush.

Both lads dropped to the floor of the fire room, the black chunks of
coal passing harmlessly over their heads.

"Let 'em have another! Throw low!"

The stokers sent the next black volley straight out from their hips,
which should have reached the mark had the boys adopted their former
tactics.

"Dodge between!" commanded Steve.

Jarvis obeyed instantly. In fact, in an emergency, he always looked to
his companion for orders.

When they saw that their second attempt had failed the stokers uttered a
yell of rage.

"Bat them over the head with your shovels!" advised one.

But Rush had anticipated the suggestion. He was already leaping forward,
his shovel cutting the air. He brought its flat side against the side of
a stoker's head. The man toppled over, unconscious, and before the men
could recover from their surprise two more of their number had fallen
victims to the Iron Boy's shovel.

Bob had leaped into the fray by this time. He was swinging his own
shovel, uttering a shout each time it came in contact with a head.

"Give ground, Bob!" shouted Rush. "I'll fix them. Just watch out that
they don't land on you, or they'll cut your head off with those
sharp-edged things."

"I'll hold them! Come on, you black ruffians!"

Steve had sprung to one side of the fire room, where he began tugging at
a wheel, from which he unrolled a long, dark object. One end of this he
quickly connected to a four-inch pipe, turned a shut-off and sprang out
into the middle of the fire room, carrying one end of the object in his
hands.

"Quick! Back off, Bob!"

Bob did so. He saw at once what Rush intended to do.

"Give it to them!" he shouted.




CHAPTER VI

THE FIRST STEP UPWARD


THE Iron Boy held a three-inch fire hose in his hands. A powerful stream
leaped from the nozzle. The first man it hit was bowled over like a
nine-pin, the man uttering a choking yell as he went down.

Another leaped at Steve with upraised shovel. He shared the fate of his
companion. One after another of them went down under the force of the
stream from the fire hose.

It was a kind of warfare that none of those tough customers had ever
engaged in before. In a moment the men were yelling wildly, now and then
Bob Jarvis's voice raised above the hubbub in a howl of joy. The heat in
the fire room quickly turned the water to steam, a dense gray cloud
hanging over all, obscuring everything in the room. It was with
difficulty that the boy could make out the forms of his enemies.

The men were making desperate efforts to break through and escape by the
door, to which Rush had slowly backed. As soon as a man sprang forward
Steve would let him have the full force of the stream from the hose
squarely in the face. The stoker would be on his back instantly; then
Rush, would play the stream on the others, swinging the hose from side
to side to keep the crew back.

All the fight had been taken out of them, but the relentless stream
still played on and over them with terrific force.

"Quit! We've got enough!" howled a voice.

"I can't hear," answered Steve, playing the hose from one end of the
cringing line to the other. "I'm going to turn on the hot water soon, I
don't believe this cold water will take all the dirt off."

"Skin them alive!" jeered Jarvis.

There came an interruption. The howls of the men, having reached the
upper deck, had attracted the attention of the chief engineer. He had
come running down the companion ladder, believing something serious had
happened in the engine room. He was met by a cloud of steam.

"What's going on here? Have you blown out a tube?" he shouted.

"No; I'm blowing off some rowdies, that's all. Bob, shut off the water.
The fun's all over."

Macrae grasped Rush by the collar.

"What does this mean? I'll discharge you at the end of the cruise."

"I am sorry, sir; but those men attacked us and we had to fight them the
best way we could. I thought a shower bath would do them more good than
anything else, and cool them off quicker."

"Get to work there, you lazy lubbers. Your steam is twenty pounds below
the mark. I'll fine the lot of you. Rush, come up to the deck, I want to
talk with you."

"I would suggest, sir, that you hear what the men have to say first."

"How did this row start?" demanded the chief engineer.

"He turned the hose on us, jest because he got a grouch on against us."

"That's a lie!" exclaimed Jarvis.

Mr. Macrae motioned for Steve to accompany him. The boy followed up to
the deck where the chief led the way to his office and cabin.

"Now, I'll listen to the story. You have done a very serious thing; you
have imperiled the safety of the ship and laid yourself liable to arrest
and ironing. What have you to say?"

"I acted purely in self defense. It was a case of defend yourself or get
my head knocked off. I chose the former. I am sorry I was the cause of
the steam going down, but we can put on more steam in a few minutes. I
couldn't do the same for my head."

"Tell me exactly what occurred."

Rush did so, omitting the name of the stoker who had been the real cause
of the uprising. Mr. Macrae listened with grave face until the story of
the trouble had been told.

"Who started it?"

"I would rather not say. I do not think he will start anything else very
soon. He got about all that was coming to him."

"I should say he did. However, this is a matter that will have to be
laid before Captain Simms. Go back to the fire room. I will accompany
you and see that matters are straightened out."

This the chief did.

"The next man who starts any disturbance here will be put in irons!"
said Mr. Macrae sternly. "This applies to every one of you. I shall lay
the matter before the captain, as it is. He will act as he thinks best,
but it is my opinion that the whole gang of you ought to be thrown off
the ship at the first stop. You may be, at that."

As soon as the captain rose, the chief told him the story of the battle
in the stoke hole.

"What, those two boys did up the whole crew of ten men down there?"
exclaimed the master.

"That's about what it amounted to."

"Most remarkable thing I ever heard of! But I will guarantee they never
started the row."

"No, I think not. Both boys refuse to say who did."

"Good for them. I knew they had the right kind of stuff in them. Pity we
haven't got more like them."

"What do you think best to do, sir?"

Captain Simms reflected for a moment.

"Being convinced that the stokers are wholly to blame, I shall fine each
of them a day's pay. You may so inform them."

"And the two boys also?"

"No. Why should they be fined? You can't blame them for defending
themselves. What time do the boys come off watch?"

"Nine o'clock."

"Tell them to report to me after they get fixed up."

"Very good, sir."

Captain Simms went to his cabin, where he related to the first mate the
story of the fire room row. Both officers laughed heartily.

"I would have given a month's wages to have seen that fuss," laughed the
mate. "I guess the black-face gang has come to the conclusion that it
has picked up a couple of Tartars. Evidently it isn't the first time
those lads have been called upon to take care of themselves."

Before the stoke hole watch knocked off the captain made it his business
to go below and look over the men. Every man save the Iron Boys wore a
sullen, revengeful look on his face. But this was not all. There was
blood on several of the faces, and the men's clothes and hair still bore
traces of the shower bath that Steve Rush had given them.

Neither lad paid any attention to the captain. They went on with their
work as steadily as though he were not present, or nothing out of the
ordinary had occurred.

The captain turned away rather hastily and left the compartment. He felt
that, if he remained a second longer, he would have to laugh. That would
not do at all. And laugh he did, after he had gotten far enough away
from the fire room to make wise such a proceeding.

"I'll get even with you for that!" snarled Smith in Rush's ear, after
the departure of the master.

Steve made no reply.

"You'll wake up one of these fine mornings wetter than I was after you
turned the hose on me, you whelp!"

Smith drove his elbow into the Iron Boy's side with considerable force.
Rush slowly faced him.

"Look here, you loafer, I'll knock you down if you do that again. Or,
if you prefer it, I'll give you another bath. You are trying to pick a
fight with me. I am not looking for it, but if you insist I'll give you
what you want. Fight or stop!"

Smith glanced uneasily at the door leading from the fire room, muttered
something unintelligible to the others and began shoveling coal into his
furnace.

Shortly after that the watch ended. Steve hurried through his bath.
After putting on his clean clothes he called on the captain. The latter
looked over the slim, well set-up young lad quizzically.

"I didn't think it of you, Rush."

Steve flushed painfully.

"You wish to see me, sir?"

"Yes. Be careful. In this instance let me say very frankly that I am
glad you cleaned out that lot. The only trouble is that you ought to
have thrown the whole gang overboard. We can't spare them, or I might
have done it myself before this. I'm going to take you two boys off the
stoke hole watch."

"What do you wish us to do, sir?"

"I will promote you to the deck."




CHAPTER VII

THE IRON BOYS ON DECK


THE lads began their work above decks on the following day. It was a
welcome relief to be out in the open air, with the wind blowing over
them, the soft odors of the inland seas mingling with the faint perfume
of the land drifting out from the unseen shores.

The first work of the Iron Boys was to remove the hatches that the sun
might penetrate the hold and dry out the ore, which had been put in very
damp. Ore in that condition did not handle easily, taking up time and
costing considerably more to handle than when dry. Steve pondered over
this all during his first forenoon's work. Here was something that ought
to be remedied. His fertile brain was at a loss to solve the problem. He
talked the matter over with Jarvis after luncheon, that day, and asked
his companion's opinion.

"That's easy," answered Bob promptly. "Put a stove in."

"Where?"

"In the ore pockets on the trestles."

"That would be fine," grinned Steve. "But you have given me an idea. I
will think it over. There is a point that it will pay us both to think
over very carefully. Have you seen anything of our friends from below
decks this morning?"

"No; I guess they must be sleeping."

"Look out, Bob. We haven't heard the last from Smith. He is a vengeful
fellow and he will try to get even with us. I hope he doesn't ship with
us on the return trip."

"I'll punch his head for him if he gets funny with me."

"I don't like the man's looks at all. It is my opinion that he is a
desperate character."

"Well, so are we, for that matter," replied Jarvis with a mirthless
grin.

"I am beginning to think so myself, old chap. It seems almost impossible
for us to keep out of trouble. I, for one, am going to stop it. Next
time any rough argument is started I'm going to run."

Jarvis laughed uproariously.

"I think I see you doing it! Why, you wouldn't run if you saw a herd of
elephants charging you. No, sir--not Steve Rush!"

At about four o'clock in the afternoon the boys were ordered to assist
in replacing the hatches to make all snug for the night. The vessel was
slipping down Lake Huron, now, at an eleven-knot gait. There was a
gentle roll on the sea, but neither lad minded that. Neither would
suffer further from seasickness, they felt sure.

The hatches having been made secure there was nothing more to be done
for the rest of the afternoon. The lads were free to go where they
pleased and do as they pleased. They repaired to their cabin, where they
remained until supper time. They now ate with the ship's officers, the
stokers and oilers having a mess-room by themselves. The officers'
mess-room was a roomy apartment at the extreme stern of the ship, and
the food served there was excellent. The boys did not remember ever to
have had better.

Mr. Major, the first mate, occupied the lower end of the long table,
while the captain sat at the head. There was little conversation. The
principal business was eating, sailors having a habit of shoveling in
their food as fast as possible when it is placed before them.

The result was that Steve and Bob, being accustomed to eat slowly and
chew their food well, were not half through when the others rose from
the table.

"Going to eat all night?" demanded the captain, with the suspicion of a
smile on his face.

"Oh, no," laughed Rush. "Not quite so long as that, I hope."

"How about you?" questioned the master, nodding at Jarvis.

"Well," answered Bob reflectively, "as nearly as I can figure it I am
about amidships between soup and pie. If I don't fall through the centre
hatch before I reach the pie end I'll be on deck about seven o'clock."

The officers laughed heartily.

"Do we go on duty this evening, sir?" questioned Rush.

"Certainly," replied the captain. "You take your regular tricks just the
same. You two will take the forward watch at nine o'clock."

They had never been on watch before, and did not know what their duties
were to be. So, after finishing their supper, they hunted up Mr. Major
and asked him to explain their duties to them. He told them that all
they had to do would be to watch out for lights ahead and either side of
the ship, ring the hours on the ship's bell just forward of the bridge,
at the same time glancing back at their own ship's running lights to see
if all were burning brightly. The mate told them how to report this,
giving them some other suggestions at the same time.

"This is fine," glowed Bob. "We're going to walk the bridge at midnight,
aren't we?"

"Rush will have the bridge watch," explained Mr. Major. "You will take
the deck just forward of and under the bridge. It is not hard work in
good weather, but it gets to be rather lonesome at times. I shall be on
duty in the pilot-house during your trick. If you are in doubt at any
time be sure to call out to me."

Both promised that they would. It was with keen anticipation that the
lads made their way forward from their cabins a few minutes before nine
o'clock.

"Second watch changed," called the watch who was on the point of
retiring.

"Aye, aye," answered the officer in charge in the pilot-house. All was
dark in there so the men could see ahead, the windows of the captain's
cabin having the shades pulled tight so that not a single ray of light
could shine out ahead to blind the eyes of the lookouts.

"All clear ahead. Steamer heading up the lake off the starboard bow."

"All right," answered Steve as he took his place at the rail of the
bridge. "I guess she won't run into us."

"Watch for that steamer's red light off to starboard," warned a
business-like voice from the blackness of the pilot-house.

"I will," replied Steve.

"Say, 'aye, aye, sir.'"

"Aye, aye, sir."

"That's right. We observe all the forms on board these ships just the
same as they do on the high seas."

"What's all that talk about up there?" called Bob Jarvis, from his post
in the bow on the deck below.

"You are to keep watch of that fellow off to starboard," answered Rush.

"Starboard? Let's see--that's the left side, isn't it?"

"No, the right."

"Oh, I guess that's right."

"Tell the watch below to 'tend to his business," warned the mate in the
pilot-house.

"Forward watch, knock off talking," called Steve.

"Don't get funny up there or I'll come up and straighten you out."

"Bob," called Steve softly, "the officer will be down there in a moment
if you don't stop your nonsense. This is business. Keep your eyes on the
water and call out whenever you see a light. I----"

"Ship, ho!" sang out Jarvis suddenly, interrupting what Steve was
saying.

"Lower watch reports a ship, sir," sang out Steve.

"Where away?" demanded the mate.

"Where away?" repeated Steve.

"Oh, 'bout a mile off the right-hand side," answered the lower watch
nonchalantly.

"He means the vessel off to starboard, sir," Rush informed the officer
in charge.

"Has that wooden-head just discovered the ore carrier over there?"

"I guess so, sir."

"Pshaw! You keep your eyes open."

"He will be all right after he gets settled down to it, sir," said Steve
apologetically.

"We're likely to be sent to the bottom before that time, if we wait for
him to keep us out of trouble."

The ship sailed on. Now and then Steve's keen eyes would sight a green
or red or a white light, and under the instruction of the mate he
quickly learned to determine the position of the boat from her lights,
enabling him to say instantly which way the other ship was traveling.
After a while the captain entered the pilot-house.

"Who's on the forward watch?" he demanded.

"Rush on the bridge, Jarvis in the forward peak."

"Keep a sharp lookout. They are new men."

"Aye, aye, sir. Rush is all right. He has eyes like an owl at night.
Trust him for not letting anything----"

"Red light dead ahead," called Rush.

"What do you make of her?"

"Nothing more, sir."

"That's one of the Wyckoff coal fleet," announced the captain, leaning
from the pilot-house window. "She's headed for Shoal Island."

"How in the name of all that's good does he know all that?" muttered the
boy on the bridge. "I can't see a thing but the red light, and that
means that her port beam is almost across our bow. I don't see anything
else."

"I suppose you are wondering how I know that, eh?" chuckled the captain,
nodding to the lad pacing the bridge just below him.

"Well, yes, sir; I was wondering," admitted Rush.

"Do you make out her white lights!"

"No, sir."

"That's where I have you. There is a bank of fog or mist settling over
the lake. If you will raise your eyes a little to the right of the red
light you will make out two faint blurs----"

"I see them, sir."

"Those are her masthead lights. I know the set of the masts of the
Wyckoff boats, that's all. So will you, after you have been at sea long
enough. It is all a matter of experience. I have been drilling up and
down these lakes for the past thirty years. I ought to know a few
things about them and the fellows who are navigating them. It's going to
storm."

"Yes, sir," agreed the lad, but he did not see any signs of rain. The
stars were bright overhead and the moon was shining brightly. "I see I
have a few things to learn about the weather," he muttered.

A few minutes later Steve discovered that the moon and the stars had
suddenly disappeared. The captain knew they would, for the wind had
veered to the southeast and he had seen the fog bank settling down since
the first moment he entered the pilot house. The rain started in shortly
afterwards in a thin drizzle.

"Hey, up there, it's getting wet down here!" shouted Bob. "Hand me down
an umbrella or something."

"Keep a sharp lookout, lads," warned the captain. "Remember we've got a
load of coal across our bows."

"Aye, aye, sir," answered Steve. "I think I can see quite a way ahead of
us."

"That is a mistake. You can't see a ship's length ahead. Keep your eyes
open."

"I will, sir."

"Where is your raincoat?"

"I am afraid I have none. I never thought to bring one with me."

"Tell your friend Jarvis to go to my cabin and ask the steward for two
coats."

Steve did so, and a few minutes later the lads were well protected from
the storm, which was now upon them in full force. The rain was coming
down in blinding sheets by this time, beating into the faces of the Iron
Boys.

Suddenly Steve leaned over the edge of the bridge, shading his eyes with
his hand. Something that he thought he had observed in Bob's position
had attracted his attention. He gazed more keenly, then uttered a little
gasp. Jarvis was standing with his head down, facing away from the storm
toward the stern of the ship. He looked very comfortable and contented.

"Bob!"

Steve's tone was stern.

"Bob!"

"What do you want?"

"Turn around and be quick about it!" Steve was speaking too low for the
officers in the pilot-house to hear. "Don't you know that the safety of
the ship depends largely on our watchfulness at this minute, and----"

"Clang, clang, clang, clang, clang clang," interrupted the ship's clock
in the pilot-house.

Steve grasped the cord attached to the clapper of the big bell in front
of the bridge, giving it six steady jerks.

"Six bells, eleven o'clock. All lights are burning brightly, sir," Rush
called in the singsong voice of the sailor.

"Aye, aye," answered the deep voice of the mate from the darkness of the
pilot-house.

"Reduce speed to one-half," commanded the captain, in a low voice. He
usually gave his commands calmly, no matter how great the stress or
emergency. "Do you see anything of that coal carrier, Rush?"

"No, sir; she must be some distance away from us by this time."

"She ought to be, but she isn't."

"May I ask how you know that, sir?"

"I get her smoke."

"I don't make it out, sir."

"Neither do I, by sight, but I see it through my nose. I smell it."

"Well, doesn't that beat all!" muttered Rush.

He bent every energy toward piercing the black bank ahead. For the first
time Steve Rush experienced a sense of uneasiness, and for the first
time he realized what the perils of the sea meant. Before, it had seemed
to him that, unless a ship were laboring in a great storm, there could
be little danger. Once a minute the siren far back in the darkness, near
the engine superstructure, would wail out a long, dismal blast which, a
moment later, was answered by the ship out there somewhere ahead. The
sound of the other boat's siren did not seem to Steve Rush to be getting
any nearer, but to the experienced ears of Captain Simms quite the
contrary was plain.

"Look steady, down there!" he warned in a sharp tone which told Rush
there was something that he did not know about was likely to happen.

"Look sharp!" he repeated to Bob Jarvis.

"I'm looking. I'm----"

Steve Rush's voice cut in quick and sharp, though there was little trace
of excitement in it.

"Sheer off! Ship dead ahead!"

"Hard a-port!" commanded the captain, at the same time sounding a long
wailing blast on the siren.

A deafening crash followed almost upon the command.




CHAPTER VIII

THE CRASH IN THE FOG


STEVE was thrown flat on his face on the bridge, while Bob Jarvis
doubled up, wedged into the forepeak of the boat on the deck below.

"Full speed astern!" roared the captain.

The chains of the pilot-house telegraph rattled ominously and the
propeller, nearly six hundred feet aft of the bridge, began whirling the
other way at tremendous speed.

"Hey! What--what--what's happened?" shouted Bob Jarvis. "Have we hit the
shore?"

"Close the water-tight bulkheads!" commanded Captain Simms. The mate
threw over the electric switch that gave the signal for the closing of
all water-tight doors and bulkheads.

"Sound the general alarm!"

Gongs began to ring all over the ship.

"Order the engine and stoke room crews to stand by their tricks. I'll
give them warning in time in case we have been badly hit."

The mate obeyed quickly and without a single lost motion. By this time
Steve had leaped to his feet. Ahead of him, it seemed almost on top of
them, loomed a great black hull. Lights shone dimly through the heavy
pall of fog. He understood without having to be told what had happened.
The "Wanderer" had come into collision with another ship, presumably the
same one whose lights the bridge watch had been watching off to
starboard earlier in the evening. Even in the excitement of the moment
Rush did not understand how this thing could have happened, if the other
boat had held to the courses she was on when he last saw the other boat.

"Make ready the lifeboats!" commanded the captain of the "Wanderer."
Then, raising his megaphone to his lips, the master bellowed through it:

"Are you hard hit?"

"We have a hole punched in our side big enough for you to go through.
Stand by until we can find out whether we'll float or not."

"Aye, aye, we'll stand by. We want to find out how much of a smash _we_
have got. Mr. Major, get down there and examine the nose of our boat,
and see how much of a bang we got. It's lucky for us that we hit the
other craft in the position we did."

The mate hurried down to where Bob was still on watch. Even after the
crash had come, and he had picked himself up, Jarvis stuck to his post,
though he believed the ship to be sinking. And, besides, Bob being
right at the point of the collision, so close in fact that woodwork from
the other boat showered over him in a perfect rain, got the full force
of it. He was bruised and battered, he had lost his hat and he was
greatly shaken up by the terrific impact.

The "Wanderer" had backed away to a safe distance, and the first mate
was now making an examination of her wound.

"We've broken our nose off," he called up to the bridge.

"Is she taking in any water?"

"Yes, sir; but I think the bulkhead will hold it so we won't go down."

"Good! Ahoy, coal carrier there."

"Aye, aye," came the reply from the deck of the stranger.

"Who are you?"

"The 'James Macomber,' coal laden, bound for Shoal Island."

"Well, I must say you are doing some fine steering. What are you doing
over here?"

"We got out of position in the fog."

"I should say you did. How are you?"

"Listing badly to port and settling by the stern."

"Better get your boats over while you have the time. Shall we put over a
boat?"

"No; we can manage to get away if she goes."

"I tell you, you're going down! Get away while you've got the time."

"All right; stand by."

"Can I do anything, sir?" asked Steve.

"Yes; go aft and take two men with you. Take the boat and cast off. Lay
well away from the ship and give me a hail, so I'll know where you are.
Stand by and, mind you, don't drift away and get lost. We'll never pick
you up in this fog if you do. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

"Order Jarvis up to the bridge."

"Bob, come up here. The captain orders you to take the bridge."

Steve ran down the ladder to the forward deck, then on down to the main
deck, where all hands not otherwise engaged had assembled. They were
leaning over the side peering into the darkness to see what had
happened. Steve was beset by questions. He explained briefly what had
happened, repeating the captain's orders for himself and two men to man
the life-boat and put off to pick up any one needing assistance.

The second mate, then in charge of the deck, assigned two strong oarsmen
to go with Rush. The latter was to be in charge of the boat, so the
captain had said, though Steve was dubious about his ability to fill
that office. Of course he was interested in boats, but he was much more
familiar with drifts and levels than he was with navigation of the
lakes.

"Man the boat," ordered the second mate.

The men took their places in the life-boat, which already had been
hauled up ready for launching, the Iron Boy taking his place in the
stern by the tiller.

"Are you ready?"

"All ready."

"Cast off!" came the hoarse command from the second mate.

Steve instinctively grasped the gunwales of the life-boat as the craft
dropped toward the water. He thought the boat had broken loose from the
davits and was falling into the sea, so swift was its descent. Yet he
might have known from the sound of the groaning, creaking block and
tackle that he and his companions were still safe.

The life-boat struck the water with a loud splash, rocking perilously as
Steve, still gripping the sides, stood in a crouching position ready to
jump should the boat tip over. Then the little craft righted itself,
though it lay rising and falling, rolling and tossing perilously on the
long lake swell. Rush had no idea that the water was so turbulent.

"Cast off!"

The two oarsmen quickly unhooked the blocks from the rings at the
extreme ends of the small boat.

"Are you ready?" they asked.

"Yes," said Steve, though he was not certain whether he was ready or
not. His mind worked with its usual quickness, however. He knew that he
was expected to get off somewhere near the steamer "Macomber."

"Give way!" he commanded.

The sailors pushed the life-boat away from the side of the ship with
their oars; then, placing the oars in the locks, fell to pulling
steadily. Steve turned the tiller the wrong way the first thing. The
nose of the life boat hit the hull of the "Wanderer" with such force as
to throw the three men to the bottom of their boat.

"Lubbers!" bellowed the second mate from the deck of the ship. "What are
you trying to do--run us down?"

Steve's face was burning with mortification. Fortunately the night was
too dark for any one to see this.

"What's the matter with you?" demanded one of the oarsmen.

"I turned the tiller the wrong way," answered Rush truthfully. "Pull
away."

The men growled as they fell to their oars once more. A few swift
strokes and they were clear of their ship, Rush this time handling his
tiller with more skill than before. He tried the rudder cautiously and
found that it responded readily to the least movement of the tiller.

"Now I'm all right," he muttered. "That is if I don't run something else
down."

Swinging out in a wide circle the lad steered around the bow of the
"Wanderer," heading for the spot where he thought the distressed ship
lay.

"Lifeboat there!" bellowed the captain through his megaphone.

"Aye, aye, sir."

"Where you heading?"

"For the other ship."

"No you're not. You're heading for the shore. Pull to port a little
more. There, that's better. Look where you are going, now."

The captain's tone was stern and commanding. Steve leaned well forward,
peering into the thick fog ahead. He could not make out the other ship
as yet, though he could hear the shouting and the hoarsely uttered
commands on her deck. It was a scene such as he had never imagined
before, and it thrilled Steve Rush through and through. He felt that he
was ready for deeds of valor if he should only get the chance to perform
them.

"Steady, men," the boy warned. "We must be near the other ship now. I
can hear their voices more plainly. It is curious we can't see their
lights, though."

"That's because of the fog, cap'n," volunteered one of the sailors at
the oars.

"They're----"

"Look out! We're under the stern of the ship now!" cried Rush, throwing
his tiller hard to port.

The life boat hit the stern of the ship, far down under her counter,
with a resounding crash. There followed the sound of breaking woodwork,
as the gunwale of the lifeboat crashed in. The little craft shipped a
heavy sea, drenching all hands.

The sailors had dropped their oars and were preparing to jump.

"Sit down!" commanded the young skipper.

"We're sinking!"

"Well, if we are, let's get in a better place to do it. We don't want to
be floundering in the water under the stern of this sinking ship, do we?
Get to your oars and pull away!"

The Iron Boy's voice had assumed a tone of command. The men, recognizing
that he was not alarmed, bent themselves to their oars and pulled
quickly from their present dangerous position.

"Have we anything in the boat with which to bail it out?"

"No."

"Then we will sit in the water. I guess we can't be much wetter than we
are."

The men grumbled.

"Lay to, till I find out how badly we are injured."

A brief examination of the side of the boat that had come in contact
with the ship, showed that the gunwale had been smashed in, but the gash
did not extend far enough down to place the little boat in great danger
unless perhaps the sea rose high enough to wash over the side. As yet
the lake was rolling lazily as is usually the case in a fog, for a
breeze would quickly dispel the heaviest bank of fog and drive it away.

"We're all right," decided the young coxswain. "Pull around slowly."

Standing up in the stern of the life-boat with the tiller between his
legs, Steve hailed the disabled ship.

"Ahoy, there!" he called.

"Ahoy! Who are you?"

"Life-boat from the 'Wanderer.' If you want any help, sing out."

"We'll need it all right."

"Are you sinking?"

"We don't know. We're settling some."

"Got much water aboard?"

"More'n we need to drink. Come in closer, so we can get you if we need
to."

"How about your own boats?"

"Life boat smashed in the collision. Ship's raft is safe. That'll carry
most of us, perhaps all of us, if necessary."

"Better get it ready, then, in case anything happens," advised the lad,
who was rapidly becoming a seasoned sailor. "Pull in a little closer,
boys, but look sharp because we may have to get out in a hurry, in case
anything happens over there."

The boat drifted slowly in toward the injured ship. This time the little
craft had worked around abeam of the coaler, the latter's lights showing
dimly in the thick fog.

"Keep your siren going to warn off other ships, why don't you?" shouted
Rush.

The suggestion was a good one. It was instantly acted upon by the master
of the "Macomber." Then the "Wanderer" started her siren going, the
hoarse voices of the whistles sounding dull and unreal through the fog.

Steve grinned appreciatively.

"At least I have made one good suggestion," he muttered. "There will be
no excuse for any other ship hereabouts running into us. That would be a
nice mess."

Suddenly there arose a commotion on board the damaged coaler. The shouts
grew louder. The crash of a steel hatch falling into place could be
heard here and there. A loud splash sounded between the life-boat and
the ship.

"Somebody's overboard!" cried Steve. "Pull in!"

"Life-boat there!"

"Aye, aye!"

"We're sinking by the stern!"

"Pull in quick, lads!" commanded Steve Rush.




CHAPTER IX

A TRAGEDY OF THE LAKES


THERE followed a sound as though the wind were suddenly rising. The
sound grew to the roar of a gale.

Rush did not understand the meaning of it. He did understand, however,
that there was a man in the water near by, and that there was a human
life to save.

"Where are you?" he called.

"Here! Be quick!"

Rush had the fellow by the collar, in short order, and with some
difficulty, hauled the man into the life-boat.

"The ship's going down. Get out of here!" cried the rescued sailor.

"Pull out, boys!" commanded Rush, grasping the tiller and swinging the
bow of his boat about.

"There she goes!" shouted the sailor from the "Macomber."

The huge coaler's lights suddenly went out as the sea flooded her dynamo
room. The hatches began blowing off with loud explosions as the water
was forced up under them.

"What is it?" cried Steve.

"The hatches."

Boom!

"There goes the main bulkhead. It's all up with her now."

Yells and cries rent the air. Men were leaping into the sea from the
doomed ship, and though the men in the life-boat could not see, they
could hear.

"I can't stand this!" gritted the Iron Boy, jamming the tiller hard
over.

"What are you going to do?" demanded one of the sailors.

"I'm going in there after those men," answered Steve Rush.

"It's sure death!"

"We'll go, just the same."

"No we won't; we'll pull out of here like lightning."

Steve grabbed up a boat hook.

"Pull, I tell you; pull for all you two are worth, or I'll knock your
heads off with this hook. Now--GO!"

The oarsmen pulled. They were used to obeying orders, and they realized
that the young coxswain of their craft was no weakling. He meant exactly
what he had said. Besides the men, after all, were as anxious to save
those of their own calling, now struggling in the water, as Steve could
possibly be.

The bow of the life-boat sent the water spurting into the air as the
craft cut through the sea. Another man was hauled aboard.

"Where's the rest of them?" demanded Rush.

"The water's full of them," gasped the rescued sailor.

"Ahoy, there, men--swim this way if you can. We're waiting for you.
We'll----"

With a sickening roar that Steve Rush would never forget as long as he
lived, the "Macomber" dived stern first under the surface of the water.
Her engine and boiler rooms, being at the stern, were flooded instantly.

Then came a report as if the universe had been suddenly rent in twain,
an explosion that seemed to rend the air, the earth and the sea.

"The ship's blowing up!" cried one of the men in the boat. He knew what
the sound meant. Steve did not, but he caught his breath sharply when he
heard the words.

"Pull out!"

Instead, the life-boat was lifted out. It seemed to rise right up into
the air, and when the Iron Boy at the helm sought to throw the rudder
over there was not water to push against--only thin air.

"Hang on! We're going over!" shouted the boy.

Cries for help were heard on all sides of the life-boat now. But Steve
was powerless to aid the drowning ones. He was concerned with saving
himself and those with him just at this time.

The boat continued to go into the air; then, suddenly, it swung bottom
side up, spilling its human freight into the lake.

As the men of the life-boat fell into the water they were caught by the
suction of the sinking ship and borne struggling about in the great eddy
that swirled with the speed of a mill-race.

Steve fought valiantly to save himself by trying to swim out of the
whirlpool, but even his great strength was not equal to the task. He was
tossed to the centre of the eddy; then he felt himself being drawn
downward by some invisible force. Even then the Iron Boy did not lose
his presence of mind. He caught and held his breath as the waters were
closing over him.

Down and down shot the body of Steve Rush until he believed he must be
near the bottom of Lake Huron. Hours seemed to have been occupied in the
descent, whereas it had been a matter of seconds only. He had made no
resistance, calmly deciding to save his strength until action would
count for something.

Steve had no thought of giving up. While his heart was filled with a
great dread he was not excited, because he would not permit himself to
be.

"I'll die game, if I do die," he kept repeating to himself.

At last the pull from beneath seemed to be lessening a little. There was
not the same terrific force tugging at his feet. Steve kicked out and
the effort, he thought, raised him a little.

Thus encouraged he began kicking with all his strength, treading water
and working his hands as fast as he could. There could be no doubt about
it now. He was shooting toward the top at a good speed.

Suddenly he gave a great gasp as he felt the warm, damp air strike his
face. His lungs were almost at the bursting point, and he felt that he
could not have held his breath a second longer.

Steve lay over on the water, on his back, moving his hands listlessly to
help keep him afloat. Thus far he had had no thought of the ship to
which he belonged. He was too much exhausted to do more than lie still,
which he did, drawing in long, deep breaths of the fresh air. Nothing
had ever tasted so sweet to Steve Rush and he felt an overpowering
desire to go to sleep.

All at once he threw himself over on his stomach as the long, shrill
blast of a steamer's whistle smote his ears.

"It's the 'Wanderer'!" he cried. "And they must be miles away."

The ship was not very far away. It was the blanket of fog that had
smothered the sound of the whistle and made it seem many miles off to
port of him.

Rush raised his voice and shouted. His voice, of course, carried for a
very short distance, for the same reason that had made the ship's
whistle sound a long way off. Again and again did he shout, but not a
response did he get, save the long wail of the siren. Not a light was to
be seen anywhere, nor were there any signs of the other men who had been
in the life-boat with him at the time it was lifted from the water and
turned bottom side up.

A great feeling of lonesomeness came over the Iron Boy when he realized
that he was far out in the lake alone. He, of course, did not know how
far they were from shore, but he believed it to be at least twenty
miles.

He reasoned that his ship would not sail away without him unless the
captain were reasonably certain that Steve had been drowned. The lad
decided to swim in the direction from which the whistle sound had come.
He had taken but a few strokes when he became entangled in a mass of
wreckage. At first he thought he was going to drown before he could
extricate himself, then he discovered that he could not if he tried.

  Illustration: 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 wrong direction.
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.
Further than 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.




CHAPTER X

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 rush of 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 going to 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, this _is_ cheerful, 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, he thought, 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, and it 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 is surely 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.




CHAPTER XI

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 so fast 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 intended that 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 even grunt. 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 the same 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.




CHAPTER XII

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 faintly outlined 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."




CHAPTER XIII

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 his
fault, 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 could
suggest 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!"




CHAPTER XIV

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. Springing to 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 again before 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 the deck 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 much for 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 might wake 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 to the 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 in the 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. Especial credit 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 the last 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!"




CHAPTER XV

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 the skipper 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 vessel down 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, who first
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 the world'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 entering port 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 the points 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 the wheelman 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 as a 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 beside which
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.




CHAPTER XVI

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. In her 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. I don'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 down in 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-house window, 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.




CHAPTER XVII

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, after an
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 think it 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.




CHAPTER XVIII

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 docks for 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 the past 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.




CHAPTER XIX

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. Little Marie 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. "Your daughter'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 in time 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 dropped within 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.

  Illustration: Another Figure Dived from the Rail.

Bob saw what was going to happen. The plucky lad held the child off at
arm's length, as far away from the oncoming ship as possible, while with
the other hand he sought to break the force of the blow.

The side of the ship hit Jarvis a tremendous blow. The lad's arm doubled
under him and his head drooped forward on the water.

"He's killed!" cried the watchers.

Splash!

Another figure had dived from the rail. It was Steve. His dive took him
right under Bob and his burden. Rush came up the other side and struck
out for the couple with long, powerful strokes.




CHAPTER XX

AN EXCITING RESCUE


WITH him Rush had carried a life ring attached to the end of a rope, the
other end of the rope having been, with rare presence of mind, made fast
to the rail by him before leaping.

He reached his companion just as Bob's head drooped over and he lost
consciousness. Still, Jarvis kept his grip on the arm of the child. Rush
had to tear the girl's dress in order to wrench Jarvis's grip free of
her. In so doing Steve lost the life ring. It was carried away from him
in a twinkling. Now he had two persons on his hands with the seas
rolling over him almost mountain high, though the ship, being on the
windward side, protected them somewhat.

"Haul in and cast the ring!" Steve managed to shout, just before he was
jammed choking under a heavy wave.

Rush threw himself on his back with his head toward the ship, one arm
under Marie and the other arm supporting Bob, who was making desperate
efforts to help himself, though unable to do much in that direction.
Then Rush began kicking himself slowly toward the vessel, which had
been shifted about and was once more drifting down on them.

"Cast your lines before you get close enough to hit us!" Steve cried
when he could do so without getting a mouthful of water.

Unfortunately those on deck were not very good shots at this sort of
target work and their life rings went far wide of the mark. The ropes on
all but one of them slipped through the hands of the casters and dropped
into the sea.

"Lubbers!" roared the captain from the pilot-house window.

Steve caught the third ring. Twisting the rope about the body of Marie
just under her arms, he tore the ring loose.

"Haul up, quick!" he shouted, swimming along with the child after having
thrust the life ring over the head of Bob Jarvis. Steve held to the girl
so that she should not be thrown against the ship head first, which
would have seriously injured her at least, and perhaps killed her then
and there. Possibly the little girl was dead already. Rush did not know,
but he thought he had detected life when he first grasped her.

"Hurry, hurry!" he cried.

The girl was hauled free of the water, and, limp and lifeless, she was
tenderly lifted over the rail. Captain Simms, after hurling some brief
directions at the man at the wheel, dashed from the pilot-house, down
the steps and along the deck to the stern, where Marie lay on the deck.
The father lost no time in getting at work on her.

"Save those boys if it costs the ship to do it!" he roared. "Major, use
your wits! Get them out, I tell you. I'll hold you personally
responsible for their rescue!"

"Rush is hit!" shouted a voice excitedly.

Looking over they saw Steve striking out blindly to where Bob was
floating away helplessly on the sea. It was plain that Rush had been
stunned by being thrown against the side of the ship. Still, by sheer
pluck, he was keeping himself up and swimming, but with evident effort,
toward his companion. Bob was in a helpless condition and every second
the life ring was slipping up and threatening to bob out from under his
head. Were that to happen there was little chance that he would be
saved.

Steve tried to shout to them, but his voice would not come. He swallowed
enough water in these attempts to drown the ordinary person. His eyes
were so full of water and he was so dazed from the bump he had
sustained, that he could not make out where Jarvis was.

"Port! Port!" roared a voice from the deck.

Steve caught the direction and veered a little to port.

"More port. Can you keep it up?"

Rush did not answer, for he was beyond answering. Only his wonderful
pluck and endurance were keeping him from throwing up his hands and
sinking under the surface.

With a final burst of speed he reached his companion. Steve threw out
one hand and fastened on the other Iron Boy. As he did so the ring
slipped from Jarvis's head and floated away.

Rush realized at once what had happened, and began upbraiding himself
for his carelessness. The knowledge seemed to give him new strength. His
body fairly leaped from the water as he took several powerful strokes
toward the drowning Bob.

"Wake up!" cried Steve, shaking his companion roughly.

Jarvis mumbled in reply, and tried feebly to help himself, but he was
too weak and too full of water to accomplish anything.

Steve, by a great effort, twisted his companion about and began swimming
toward the ship with him.

Shouts and suggestions were hurled at him from the ship, but he did not
hear them. The Iron Boy was making the fight of his life. At last, after
mighty struggles, he managed to get near enough to the "Richmond" to
catch a line that was tossed to him. This he quickly made fast about
Jarvis's waist and waved a hand to indicate that the men above were to
haul away.

Steve lay over on his back on the water with a great sigh of relief as
the men began hauling the other boy toward the deck.

"Get a line over there to Rush!" thundered the captain. "Don't you see
the boy is drowning?"

But Steve missed every line that was tossed to him. He was making
powerful efforts to pull himself together sufficiently to save himself,
but he could not do so.

"Take care of the child, Major. Keep pumping the water out of her.
She'll be all right in a moment," cried the captain. "Give me a line,
quick!"

Before the brave skipper could carry out his purpose of climbing over
the rail preparatory to dropping into the lake, another man swiftly
leaped to the rail and let himself drop feet first. He carried two lines
with him.

"It's Smith, the stoker!" cried a chorus of voices.

It was indeed the stoker, the enemy of the Iron Boys, who had determined
to avenge himself on them for the insults he believed they had heaped
upon him.

What sudden revulsion of feeling led the stoker to risk his life to save
that of Steve Rush none ever knew, nor would he ever afterwards discuss
it. Smith was a powerful fellow, a man who feared nothing and besides,
he was a strong swimmer.

He pounced upon Rush as if he were about to do him bodily injury. It was
the work of but a moment to make fast the line about the boy's body.

"Get him up, and be quick!" yelled the stoker.

A cheer rose from the deck; two men at this time were working over Bob,
while the captain, having returned to his daughter, was ministering to
her.

Steve was hauled aboard, where he settled down in a heap. The sailors
turned him face downward, and then some one happened to think of the
stoker. Smith was keeping himself from being jammed against the side of
the ship by holding both hands against the side of it and hurling angry
imprecations at those on deck who had apparently forgotten his
existence.

"Smi--Smith--Get him!" muttered Steve.

"Put a ladder over the side! Lash it to the rail and give the man a line
with which to steady himself!" commanded the captain. "Come, come! Have
you all lost your senses?"

His orders were carried out with a snap, and a moment later the dripping
figure of Smith appeared above the level of the deck.

"You're a fine lot of lubbers," growled the stoker. "You let a man go
overboard and then forget he's there. I ought to throw the bunch of you
overboard."

"Take those boys to their cabins as soon as you get the water out of
them," ordered Captain Simms.

"No, no; I'm all right," protested Steve, pulling himself together and
staggering away from the men who were thumping him with their closed
fists, hoping in that way to bring him back to himself.

The stoker had betaken himself to the fire room to dry off. His face had
once more regained its surly, hang-dog expression, and he made rough
answers to the few questions that were put to him by his fellow-workers
in the stoke-hole.

At last the workers succeeded in shaking most of the water out of Bob
Jarvis. He had swallowed a lot of it and was so weak that he could not
stand.

At Steve's suggestion they carried Bob around on the lee side of the
after deck-house. The steward came running out with a bottle of brandy,
some of which he sought to pour down between the boy's blue lips.
Jarvis thrust the bottle aside, half angrily.

"None--none of that horrible stuff for me! I--I'd rather be full of Lake
Superior water and--and _that's_ the limit----"

Steve stooped over, and placing his hands under the other boy's arms,
lifted him to his feet.

"Brace up! You're all right now," encouraged Rush.

"Yes. I'm all right, _only_----"

The sailors laughed at this; then they shouted, more from relief from
the strain under which they had been laboring than because of the humor
of Jarvis's reply.

"Want to go in and lie down now?" questioned Steve, barely able to keep
his feet.

"No!"

"Then we'll walk and see if we can get our sea legs," proposed Steve,
slipping an arm about his companion's waist and starting slowly toward
the stern. The boys could hardly keep their feet, they were still so
weak. They staggered from one side of the passage to the other, but
their iron grit kept them up.

"How is little Marie?" demanded Jarvis, suddenly turning to Rush.

"Come; we will go and see. We were forgetting our duty," muttered Steve,
starting for the cabin, where the little girl had been taken.




CHAPTER XXI

A NEW HAND AT THE WHEEL


MARIE had entirely recovered consciousness when the lads entered the
steward's cabin. But the child's face was chalky white, her lips
colorless and her eyes dull.

Captain Simms had sent for his wife, who, ill in her stateroom, had not
known of the exciting events that were taking place at the other end of
the ship. Mrs. Simms forgot all about her seasickness when summoned and
told what had happened.

Marie's eyes lighted up when they rested on the dripping forms of the
Iron Boys.

"Hello, kiddie," greeted Jarvis. "How'd you like your swim?"

"Come and kiss me," answered the child simply.

Jarvis blushed, but braced himself. Then, stooping over, he gently
kissed the little one on the cheek.

"You, too, Steve," she nodded with compelling eyes.

Then Steve Rush kissed her, patted her cheek and straightened up to meet
the arms of the captain's wife.

"You saved her life," she murmured.

"I beg your pardon, Mrs. Simms; it's Bob Jarvis whom you should thank.
He's the real hero this time. I'm only a sort of assistant hero," said
Steve with a laugh.

The captain tried to speak, but something seemed to stick in his throat.
He gulped, swallowed, then grasping both boys by the shoulders thrust
them from the cabin.

"Get out! Get out you young rascals before I give you a sound thumping!"
he exploded, as the Iron Boys, laughing heartily, were ejected to the
deck.

"That's a fine way to show a fellow's appreciation," snorted Bob. "Do
you know where that kiddie was going when she was swept overboard? I
mean, before she was swept over?"

"Coming aft?"

"Yes; she was coming aft. She was coming aft to make a cake for you and
me, that's what she was doing. She told me she was going to bake one for
us to-day and she had the stuff in her hands that she was going to put
into the cake. It's a shame," added Jarvis, his voice pitched a little
higher than usual.

"Yes, but not half so bad as if we hadn't saved her, old man. I'm proud
of you, Bob Jarvis."

"You needn't be. I was the easiest kind of a mark. I would have drowned
if it hadn't been for you."

"And both of us would undoubtedly have gone down had it not been for the
stoker, Smith. What do you make of that, Bob?"

Jarvis halted reflectively.

"I think," announced the lad wisely, "that he was--was--what do you say
a fellow is suffering from when he goes dippy up here?" tapping the top
of his head.

"Temporary aberration?"

"That's it. I wish I could think of things ready-made, the way you do.
Well, I believe he must have been suffering from that. He'll be wanting
to lick us again the minute he sets eyes on us."

"Here he comes now. He's just come up from his watch. Oh, Smith!"

The stoker halted, then started on again. Steve grasped his arm. The
fellow shook the lad loose.

"See here, we want to talk to you."

Smith halted reluctantly.

"I want to take back every unpleasant thing I have ever said to you. At
the same time I want to apologize for what I have done. I've been in the
wrong all the time, I guess. Will you shake hands?"

The stoker hesitated, shifted uneasily, all the time avoiding looking
into the eyes of the Iron Boys. Finally he thrust out a reluctant hand.

Steve grabbed it and Bob caught up the other. The stoker, muttering half
sullenly, broke away and ran into the deck-house, leaving the boys
standing outside looking at each other.

"Well, that beats anything I ever saw," growled Bob.

"Do you know," said Steve reflectively, "I believe that fellow has been
a criminal of some sort. The way his eyes avoid yours, his shifty,
hang-dog manner, reminds me of certain other gentlemen whom I have seen.
However, after what he has done for us, it is not for you and me to try
to get him into any further trouble. He saved our lives and that's all
there is about it so far as we are concerned. I don't believe he will
try any more tricks on us. He is the man who hit me on deck here the
other night. I'm just as sure of it as I am that we are standing here
now. Captain Simms gave him an awful walloping. Maybe that's what beat
some sense into the fellow's head."

All the rest of the day Marie remained in bed. The captain, who had gone
back to the pilot-house after carrying the child to his own quarters,
made frequent trips below to see how she was getting on. She was doing
so well that she wanted to get up and play.

The rest of the day passed without incident, though the gale, if
anything, grew worse. The air was filled with flying spray that reached
high up on the masts. The wireless operator picked up messages from
other ships that had sought safe harbor on the lee side of the islands
along the lake, but thus far there had been no reports of disasters. The
captain had warned the operator to be on the sharp lookout for appeals
for help. To the satisfaction of all no cries for help came.

The boys went about their duties, Rush taking another trick at the wheel
late in the afternoon, leaving it along toward eight bells, midnight.
Bob, in this instance, relieved him.

The night was starless and intensely dark and the hurling spray made
necessary a sharp lookout ahead. Two men were stationed on the bridge
and another in the forepeak to watch for lights, though the captain did
not look for many that night. He knew that at least all the timid
skippers, had scudded for calm water at the first signs of a big blow.
Believing that all was safe he went to bed, and the ship went rolling
and plunging, lurching and tumbling on her way, creaking and groaning as
though the effort caused her great pain.

Shortly before daylight, Bob fancying that he heard some one entering
the pilot-house, glanced at the open door on the lee side. At first he
saw nothing. Then all of a sudden a huge, shadowy form seemed to rise
from the floor at that point.

Bob gazed in amazement.

"What's that, Mr. Major?" he asked sharply.

"Where?" demanded the mate, leaning out and looking forward.

"There, there, at the door?"

"I don't see anything."

"Neither do I, now, but I did a moment ago. I----"

Bob received a blow from a huge paw that tipped him over sideways,
tumbling him over.

"Help!" yelled the boy, bolting for the door.

About this time the first mate, who had run around to the rear of the
steering wheel, got a blow on the side of the head that laid him low.
He, too, scrambled to his feet and dashed for the door, slamming it shut
after him.

"What's the trouble in there?" shouted one of the bridge watch, poking
his head in at the window. He had heard some sort of disturbance in the
pilot-house, he thought, but the wind being so strong he was unable to
decide what the disturbance was about.

There was no answer to his question.

"I say----" he shouted; then something happened to him.

A huge paw was stretched out through the forward pilot-house window. It
came down on the head of the watch with a whack, laying him flat on the
deck.

The second watch ran to where his companion had fallen.

"Here, here, what's the mat----"

The watch did not finish the sentence. A cuff on the ear, and a mighty
cuff at that, sent him clear to the end of the bridge, and had the
weather cloths not been in place he would undoubtedly have been knocked
through between the rails and into the sea.

Both men set up a wild yell of fear.

"It's some kind of animal!" shouted Bob. "Send for the captain. I'm
going back to the wheel."

Summoning all his courage the lad opened the pilot-house door, peering
cautiously in.

He got a blow that knocked him over backwards and Bob Jarvis tumbled all
the way down the stairs to the main deck.

Captain Simms came rushing out of his cabin in his pajamas.

He had heard the running on the deck above him and surmising that
something had gone wrong, rushed out to the deck.

"What's wrong? What's wrong?" he bellowed, casting a quick glance ahead,
almost expecting to see another ship bearing down upon them. "I say,
what's happened?"

"Help!" howled the distant voice of Bob Jarvis from the lower deck.

"Help, help!" yelled the two men on the bridge watch in chorus.

"Captain!" roared First Mate Major, bounding down the stairs to where
the captain was standing.

The skipper grabbed the mate by the arm and shook him violently.

"Here, here! What's wrong? Have all of you lubbers gone mad?"

"It--it's in the pilot-house!" gasped the now thoroughly frightened
mate.

"What's in the pilot-house?" demanded Captain Simms angrily.

"Nobody--I mean I don't know. It's a----"

But the skipper waited to hear no more. He rushed up the stairs, two
steps at a jump. Reaching the bridge deck he sprang for the door of the
pilot-house and jerked it open. As he did so his keen eyes caught sight
of a huge, shadowy figure at the wheel. The strange, uncouth shape was
twirling the wheel merrily, while the ship was diving this way and that
in a most unusual and erratic manner.

The figure at the wheel suddenly bolted forward, making a grab for
Captain Simms. Quite a portion of the skipper's pajamas were left in
the grip of the strange object, causing the captain to retire hastily,
slamming the door as he did so.

"It's the bear! The bear has escaped!" he shouted.

"The bear?" yelled several voices.

"Yes, the bear in that crate in the lazaret. We were taking it down for
Mr. Carrhart, to be shipped to a friend of his in Pittsburgh."

"Wow!" cried Jarvis, who had been creeping up the stairs. He turned and
bolted down again with all speed.




CHAPTER XXII

LEADING A LIVELY CHASE


"THE bear has escaped!" shouted a voice down on the main deck.

"What bear?"

"The one that was in the lazaret."

"Didn't know there was any bear there. You're kidding," answered the
doubting sailor.

"Go up and take a peep into the wheel-house, if you don't believe it.
You'll get a bang on the side of the head that will make your ears ring
eight bells for the rest of the night."

"I--I guess I'll take your word for it." The sailor turned and ran for
the deck-house.

Steve Rush, aroused by the shouting, got up and poked his head from the
cabin window.

"Hey, what's happening?" he called.

Jarvis was on his way back to tell his chum the news.

"Old Bruin has escaped."

"Who's he?"

"An old party we had cooped in a crate in the lazar----"

"A bear?"

"You bet he's a bear. He waved a paw at me that knocked me clean out of
the pilot-house."

"Wait, I'll be out in a minute."

Steve hurried into his clothes, and a few minutes later was out on the
rolling deck. He could barely make out the lights of the forward
deck-house through the mist of spray that hung over the ship like a
cloud.

"Where is he?" cried the Iron Boy.

"Up there in the house."

"But who is steering the ship?"

"I guess the bear is. Nobody else up there except the captain, jumping
around the bridge-deck in his pajamas, mad as a hatter."

Steve, deciding that he would like a closer look, hurried to the bridge.
There he found Captain Simms in a plight if anything more ludicrous than
had been painted by Bob Jarvis. Rush saw that the ship was reeling about
like a crazy sailor.

"Do something, somebody!" roared the skipper.

"What would you suggest?" questioned Steve, taking a peep through an
open window and narrowly missing getting his eyes scratched out as a
hairy paw reached through the window with a downward, raking sweep.

Captain Simms forgot his anger long enough to laugh at the agility with
which Rush leaped backward, falling over a steel cleat, coming up
grinning but very red of face.

"That's what the beast did to me, only he got too much of my clothes for
comfort," remarked the skipper.

It was Steve's turn to laugh, which he did uproariously.

"Maybe you think it's funny, but you wouldn't if you were in my place.
The next question is how are we going to get that beast from the iron
range out of the pilot-house?"

"I'll tell you," said Bob, who had followed his companion up to the
bridge. "We'll coax him out with a chunk of fresh meat."

"Will you hold the meat?" answered the master sharply.

"No, thank you," laughed Jarvis.

"Your idea isn't half bad. I believe I will get a piece of meat and try
it," replied Rush reflectively.

"See here, young man. Not quite so fast. What do you propose to do with
the beast when you get him out?"

"I--I--hadn't thought of that," stammered Rush.

"I suppose you'd let him dance about the decks and run us all overboard,
eh? No, sir. He stays where he is. You keep watch of him while I go down
stairs and get some clothing on. This summer costume is a little too
airy for this kind of a night."

The two boys watched the pilot-house from a safe distance while the
captain went below. Day was beginning to dawn, and by the faint light
they could see Mr. Bruin spinning the pilot-wheel this way and that. He
seemed as pleased as a child with a new toy. The compass card, with its
dim white spot showing the position of the ship, attracted his
attention. Brain scratched on the glass over the compass card and
getting no satisfaction from so doing, returned to the wheel.

Such steering probably never had been seen on the Great Lakes before.
All at once five shrill blasts sounded dead ahead.

"There comes a steamer!" yelled Bob.

"We'll run it down!" shouted Steve. "Hey, Captain!"

The up-coming steamer knew that something was wrong and her deck officer
was sounding a danger signal. It looked as if a collision could not be
avoided. Steve ran around to the front of the pilot-house, and rang in
the signal "full speed astern" on the bridge telegraph. Then the
"Richmond" did cut up. Bruin was still steering as fancy dictated, the
bow of the ship wobbling this way and that.

  Illustration: A Huge Form Stood at the Wheel.

In the meantime the captain of the other steamer was trying his best to
get his craft out of the way of the wobbling "Richmond."

"Sheer off! Sheer off!" bellowed the skipper of the up-boat. "You'll cut
us in two."

The boys thought so as well, but there was nothing they could do save
wait for results and trust to luck.

Bang!

The nose of the "Richmond" caught the other boat a glancing blow and
bounced off. The sides of the two ships bumped together, then the stern
of the "Richmond" side-swiped the stranger with a smash that sent
everything jingling on the two ships, while the skipper of the up-craft
was dancing up and down the deck of his vessel, heaping abuse upon
Captain Simms and his "fool crew."

"We must get that beast out, at all costs," raged the master of the
"Richmond."

Just then Bruin leaned back from the window and against the whistle
lever. Instantly a roar, accompanied by a cloud of steam, burst from the
whistle at the after end of the boat. The roaring of the siren did not
cease. It kept right up and Mr. Bear glanced about uneasily as if
suspecting that the noise was directed against him.

About this time the chief engineer rushed to the deck.

"Stop that blowing. You'll blow all the steam out of the boilers!" he
commanded, shouting up to the bridge.

"Suppose you come up and stop it yourself," suggested Jarvis, grinning
over the rail.

"We shall have to try that meat plan, I guess, boys," decided the
master. "How shall we do it without playing the part of the meat?"

"I have a plan," answered Steve. "Bob, if you will get a piece of meat I
will see what I can do in the meantime."

Bob hurried aft for the fresh meat while Steve busied himself by
preparing a rope which he placed at the foot of the stairs on the lower
deck. By this time, Jarvis had returned with the meat, the captain
having watched the arrangement with nods of approval.

"Please have some men stationed under cover of the deck-house below us
and have a tarpaulin, one of the canvas hatch covers, handy, will you?"
asked Rush.

"Certainly. Jarvis tell the mate to do as Steve suggests. I will open
the door of the pilot-house when you are ready."

In the meantime Bruin had left the whistle lever and lumbered to the
starboard window where he stood observing the preparations for his
capture. His nose was upraised sniffing the air, for he smelled the
fresh meat.

"Look out that he doesn't jump out of the window," warned Bob.

"I hardly think he will. It is quite a drop," answered Rush. "Now,
Captain, if you will open the door, I think we are ready," he added,
taking the meat from the hands of his companion.

"You don't need me now, do you, Steve?"

"Well not just this minute," laughed Rush.

Bob ran up the rope ladder of the foremast, and from this point of
safety he grinned his enjoyment of the scene. Captain Simms threw open
the pilot-house door; then he also shinned up the ladder. The bear was
ambling toward Steve at a rapid gait. But the Iron Boy did not appear to
be at all frightened. He slid down the stairs to the forward deck,
waited until the bear was almost upon him, then dropped to the main or
lower deck.

Bruin was after him without loss of time. Reaching the lower deck, Steve
dropped the fresh meat in the big loop of rope that he had spread out on
the deck, and quickly darted behind a hatch.

The bear seized the meat with an ugly growl. Steve gave the rope, one
end of which was in his hands, a violent jerk and the next second the
bear was floundering about the deck, fighting, pawing and uttering
fierce growls, with the noose of Steve's rope drawn down tight over one
of the animal's fore-legs.

Steve took a twist around a stanchion.

"The tarpaulin!" he shouted.

Not a man made a move to do the lad's bidding.

"Bob! Come down here. I want you! Quick!"

"I'm coming."

Jarvis was down the ladder in short order.

"What shall we do now?"

"Grab hold of this canvas and help me throw it over the beast."

"But he'll bite," protested Bob.

"He will if we do not get him secured pretty soon. Hurry, there!"

Each taking hold of a corner of the big, heavy canvas the lads
approached the big beast with caution.

"Now, he-o!"

They swung the tarpaulin back and forth to give it momentum, Bruin
stretching out quick paws in an effort to grab the canvas, at the same
time showing his teeth and uttering fierce growls.

"Let go!" shouted Rush.

The canvas fell completely over the beast, the centre of the covering
dropping directly on his head. Mr. Bear began to claw and roar, but the
more he clawed the more entangled did he become.

The crew uttered a cheer.

"Hurry up, men! Give me a hand or he'll get away from us yet!"

Steve threw himself upon the writhing heap, with Jarvis a close second.
But no sooner had the boys landed on the canvas than they were tossed
off. Back they sprang, making plucky efforts to twist the canvas into
position where the animal could not throw it off.

By this time Captain Simms was down the ladders and stairs, making for
the writhing heap on the jump.

"Get in there, you lubbers!" he roared.

The men obeyed his command, though they did so with reluctance.

"Fall on the heap!"

After a lively battle, consuming some twenty minutes, the escaped bear
was hopelessly entangled in the tarpaulin, the corners of which were
tied securely, thus imprisoning him beyond the possibility of his
getting out.

"The next question is, what are we going to do with him, now that we
have him?" inquired the captain.

"Is his crate broken so that it cannot be fixed?" asked Rush.

"No; it can be fixed up," interjected the chief engineer.

"Hurry up and attend to it, Macrae."

In a few minutes the crate was ready. Steve engineered the following
efforts, as he had those that had gone before. The bear was dragged back
to the stern. There the men waited while Steve put another large chunk
of meat in the cage.

"All ready, men. Throw him down the stairs. Be sure that you get him
down, or he'll be after us and then we shall have our hands full,"
shouted Steve.

"It strikes me we already have," muttered the captain, gazing admiringly
at the efforts of the Iron Boy.

"You ought to join a menagerie," suggested Jarvis.

"All ready now," warned Steve.

"All ready," answered the men.

Steve cast a final look about, taking careful note of the knots which
were ready to be unfastened at the word.

"Let go!" he shouted.

With a roar Mr. Bruin went rolling, bumping and scratching down the
stairs into the lazaret.

Steve crept down the stairs.

"Everyone stay back," he warned.

None needed the advice. None of the ship's company felt the least
inclination to climb into that dark hole where the angry bear was
floundering about.

"Throw on a light," called Rush.

A solitary light gleamed in the darkness of the lazaret. About that time
the bear smelled the fresh meat in the cage. With a grunt and a growl he
went in search of it, nosing here and there. At last he found it.

Steve, crouching on the stairway was watching the beast with keen eyes.
The bear entered the cage. With a bound Rush dropped to the floor of the
lazaret.

Bang! The door of the cage swung to, the padlock securing it, quickly
slipped through the staple and locked.

Mr. Bear was a prisoner.

"There, you may all come down now, children," called the Iron Boy.

"Is he in?" demanded a voice at the head of the stairs.

"He is. Bruin is having the rest of his breakfast now."

"Three cheers for Steve Rush," cried the captain, pulling off his cap.

"Hip-hip-hurrah!" yelled the sailors. "Hip-hip-hurrah! Hip-hip-hurrah!
T-i-g-e-r!" added Bob Jarvis.

Steve came up from the lower deck, his face flushed with triumph.

"Well, we got him, didn't we?" he demanded.

"You mean _you_ got him," answered the captain.

"We all got him."

"It is my opinion," added the skipper, "that you ought to be the captain
of this boat. You've got more horse sense than all the rest of us
together."




CHAPTER XXIII

THE WIRELESS MESSAGE


FOR the rest of that day the ship had a measure of quiet, just for a
change. The storm kept on with its former severity and there was more or
less discomfort. Meals had to be eaten standing up, and life lines had
been run along the deck to support the one who ventured along the decks
forward or aft. Marie was not allowed to leave her father's cabin again
while the storm lasted. Considerable time had been lost, owing to the
trouble caused by the bear, so the ship was put to full speed.

Of late the boys had taken the keenest sort of interest in the wireless
outfit with which the ship was equipped. They spent much of their
leisure time with the wireless operator. Steve had learned part of the
Morse alphabet and occasionally he tried to operate the key.

Two days later, as they were sitting in the wireless room, where the
operator, with feet on his desk, was telling them a story of a wreck
that he had been in on the Atlantic when he was operator on a liner, a
flash from the switchboard told them that they had picked up a wireless
from another ship or station.

The operator quickly adjusted the receiver over his head, listened a
moment then threw his key open. A few quick sentences were crashed
forth, the aërials above the deck of the ship snapping out the message
in sundry vicious cracklings.

Steve tried to catch the drift of what was being said, but it was too
fast for him. He could not hear what the operator was receiving, but
after a while the operator picked up his pencil and began writing
industriously.

Glancing over the man's shoulder Steve's eyes caught a few words that
caused him to lean forward with renewed interest. Then he sat back,
possessing himself in patience until the message should have been
finished.

"That's strange," said the operator, laying down his head piece.

"What is it?" questioned Bob.

"Nothing much. It is just a message I picked up about some fellow that
the police want."

"Well, it isn't I, that's sure," said Jarvis with a confident laugh.

"It is--but here, read it for yourself."

Steve read the message out loud.

"'Wanted: One, Gus Collins, for complicity in a post-office robbery at
Elgin on the night of June third. Collins has been a sailor and is said
to be on one of the ships on the lakes. About five feet ten in height,
gray eyes, blonde hair. Has a peculiar stoop to his shoulders, and a
habit of peering up suspiciously, but not meeting the eyes of the person
he is talking to. Five hundred dollars reward offered for his capture by
the post-office department.'"

"I'd like to make that five hundred," laughed Jarvis.

Steve did not reply at once. His face was serious. He was thinking.

"Well, there is one thing certain, Mr. Gus Collins isn't on this ship,"
announced the operator, hanging up his headstall. "Funny message to send
out. Skippers of these boats have something else to do besides hunting
down criminals for the post-office department."

Rush nodded thoughtfully.

Somehow, the description of the man seemed to strike a familiar chord in
him. He could not help feeling that he had seen some one who in a
measure answered that description.

"Ever seen him, Bob?" questioned the lad.

Jarvis shook his head.

"Wouldn't have recognized him if I had seen him. Say!"

"Well?"

"Maybe the bear is Collins in disguise."

There was a laugh at this. Rush read the message over again.

"Shall I take it up to the captain?"

"Yes, if you will."

Steve did so. Captain Simms read the alarm message through twice.

"Pshaw!" he grunted. "Let the government find its own criminals. It
doesn't hire me to be a policeman. How's the bear?"

"I haven't heard him complain any since we put him back," answered Steve
with a grin. "How did he get out, do you think?"

"The cage tipped over in a roll of the ship. No more wild animal shows
on this ship. Are you going to try to earn that five hundred dollars?"
demanded the skipper, changing the subject abruptly.

"I had not thought of doing so. You do not think he is on your ship, do
you?"

"If he was you'd catch him, even if you had to bait him with raw beef.
Say, are you going to stay with me?"

"Why, I am not thinking of leaving, Captain Simms."

"I don't mean now. Of course, you wouldn't leave me in the middle of the
season. You're too square for that. I mean at the end of the season?"

"Of course, we shall have to work during the winter. We can't afford to
lie around in idleness."

"Yes, of course. But what about next season?"

"That is a long way off," smiled Rush.

"Will you come back with me next year?"

"I could not promise. Frankly, Captain, I wish I might stay with you. I
like the life and I should be happy to spend the rest of my days on the
water, were it not for one fact."

"What is that?"

"There isn't much of a future to the lake business."

Captain Simms nodded.

"Nothing beyond being a captain. That's the stone wall we butt against
sooner or later, if we are lucky enough to get that far. I don't blame
you, but I am sorry. I was in hopes you would stay with us another
season."

"This season is young yet. Perhaps you may be glad to get rid of me
before the end of it," laughed Rush.

"No danger of that. But I am going to make it worth your while to stay,
you see if I don't. Tell the operator to send back word, to the man that
sent out this message, that we haven't got any safe crackers on board
the 'Richmond.'"

"Very well, sir."

Steve picked up the message and left the cabin. He walked thoughtfully
aft to his own state room, where he found Jarvis getting ready to go on
duty. Rush sat down to study the description of the much-wanted
criminal.

"I can't get it out of my mind that I know that man." he muttered. "I
know I have seen him somewhere. But where? Pshaw! Why should I trouble
myself about the matter? I'm no policeman, and I don't want to earn any
money at the price of another man's liberty."

"What's the matter--gone crazy?" demanded Jarvis, eyeing his companion
suspiciously. "They say it's a sure sign, when a fellow gets the habit
of talking to himself."

Rush laughed heartily.

"Then both of us must be in the same boat, for I heard you mumbling to
yourself this very day."

"When?"

"At the time the bear was chasing you."

"Huh!"

"Bob, listen."

Steve read out the message, slowly, giving emphasis to that part
describing the man wanted by the government.

"Think hard, now. Isn't there some one whom you have seen that answers
that description, the stooping shoulders, the peculiar way of glancing
up from under the half-closed eyelids----"

"Nobody but Smith."

"Smith!" Rush gazed at the other boy blankly.

"That's so; he does rather answer the description."

"Of course he isn't the man."

"Perhaps not."

All the rest of the day Steve thought over the contents of that message
and the suggestion made by Jarvis. He did not see the stoker, however,
until the following morning, just as Steve was coming off duty.

"Morning, Smith," greeted the lad, bending a scrutinizing gaze on the
surly fireman.

"Morning," mumbled the other.

"By the way, old chap; were you ever in Elgin?"

Smith gave the lad a quick, sharp look.

"What are you getting at?"

"Do you know a man named Collins--Gus Collins?" persisted the Iron Boy.

"Co--Co--Collins?"

"Yes, a fellow who was interested in cracking a post-office safe out in
Elgin----"

"It's a lie!" exploded the stoker, straightening up suddenly, his face
flushing and his features working convulsively.

"Ah! Then you do know something about this man, Collins, eh?"

"Ye--no, I don't know anything about him. I've heard of him, that's
all. Now you let me alone, or----"

"Smith, you saved my life. I'm not such a cur as to forget that. I think
you have something to say to----"

"I ain't got anything to say to you."

"Oh, yes, you have. Come with me to my cabin, where we can talk without
interruption. It may be worth your while."

"I won't go!"

Smith raised a hand as if he would strike the boy whose finger-tips were
resting on the stoker's shoulder.

"You come with me!" commanded Steve, placing a firmer grip on the
shoulder of the stoker. In that way, and without further resistance,
Steve led him to his own stateroom.

"Sit down! Now tell me all about it."

The fireman's face was sullen and rebellious.

"There--there ain't nothing to tell," answered the man in a low,
half-angry voice.

"You are Gus Collins! I know you, now. I was sure I had seen the man
whose description was sent out by the police and the government
officials."

The stoker's face went ghastly.

"Yes, I am. Now what are you going to do about it?" he demanded, rising
to his full height, standing over Rush in a threatening attitude.

"I am going to talk with you for the present. I think I have a right to
do that, and see if there isn't something I can do for you after all you
have done for me. Sit down, Gus."

With a bewildered look on his face, the stoker sank into the chair.

"Tell me the whole story, Gus," urged Rush gently. "You need not be
afraid of me. I am your friend, no matter what you have done."

For a full five minutes Collins did not speak. It was plain to the
keen-eyed boy before him that the man was battling with himself and was
trying to decide what his course of action should be.

"Did you have any part in the robbery of that post-office?" urged Steve.

"_No!_" fairly shouted the stoker.

"Then you have nothing to fear."

"Yes, I have, too. I've got everything to fear. I'm a bad man, and----"

"Perhaps you were, but you have wiped that all out by your heroic act
in----"

"Boy, I've served time in Joliet. I'm an ex-convict. I stole something
once when I didn't know what I was doing. They put me away for five
years for that little job. While I was in prison my temper got the best
of me one day, and I hurt a man, and----"

"You don't mean you----"

"No, I didn't kill him, but I was used worse than a little yellow dog
after that. What little good there was in me was beaten out of me,
and--never let your temper get the best of you, boy. It's an awful thing
to have a temper like mine."

Steve nodded.

"Well, I got out. My time was up."

"When was that?"

"This spring. I was dogged from the time I left the prison until one day
I managed to give them the slip, and----"

"You mean the police were following you?"

"Yes; spotting me."

"What for?"

"To see that I didn't get into any mischief. The last time they saw me I
was in Elgin. I left on the six o'clock train, after throwing the
spotters off. That night the post-office there was cracked. I read about
it in the papers next day, and I knew they'd put it on me. I got clear
of the place as soon as possible, shipped up the lakes from Chicago;
then got in with this crowd. Now I'll be sent back to Joliet again."

"Perhaps not; not if you are innocent."

"I am as innocent as you are, Steve Rush. Help me, boy! Help me to get
away. They'll nail me this time, sure. They've got the line drawn on me
fair and square. They sent out that alarm you've got in your hands
there. Help me to get away in the small boat to-night and I'll make
shore and disappear. I'll fool them. I did you a good turn. Do a great
one for me, now!"

"Yes, Gus; I will do you a turn, but I won't help you to escape. That
would be a foolish thing to do. The police would get you sooner or
later, and your flight would be the very worst thing possible for you
when they did get you."

"You won't help me?"

"No, not in that way."

"How then?"

"I shall have to think it over, but if you are innocent, have no fears,
for you shall be freed of the accusation. I must talk with the
captain----"

Collins started to protest.

"No one else on board shall know of it except my friend, Jarvis, and he
is true-blue. When we have you freed I will see to it that you get a
berth on this or some other boat, for life, if you want it."

Collins shook his head.

"No; they'll fire me when they find out I've done time. Nobody wants an
ex-convict. They drive a man to the dogs after once he's fallen----"

"Here's one man who won't drive you, Gus Collins. Here's one man who's
going to stand right back of you and see that you get fair play. Then
you're going to hold your head up and be a man with other men. You leave
it all to me, will you? Will you promise to do so?"

Collins eyed the bronzed, manly face before him, for a full moment; then
he stretched out an impulsive hand.

"Put it there, little pard! I'll stand up, even if I do time for it, if
it'll please you any. You're the pluckiest, the squarest bunch of muscle
that I've ever come up with!"




CHAPTER XXIV

CONCLUSION


STEVE RUSH had told the whole story to Captain Simms, to all of which
the captain listened in deep interest.

"Well, what do you propose to do about it?" questioned the skipper, with
a quizzical smile.

"If you will give me a leave of absence, I think I should like to go
back to Elgin with Collins and help to get him free," announced Steve.

"Don't monkey with fire. A crook's a crook, and----"

"This one _will_ be, if he is sent up again. I propose to get him out,
even if it takes all the rest of the summer to do it."

"All right. Go ahead, lad, but for goodness' sake wait until we get the
bear out of this ship," laughed the captain.

The result was that as soon as the "Richmond" reached its destination on
Lake Erie, Steve and the stoker, both dressed in their best, slipped
ashore and took a train for Chicago. Early the next forenoon they
presented themselves at the police station in the town where the robbery
had occurred, Steve acting as spokesman and stating that Collins had
heard he was wanted and had come to give himself up, prepared to prove
his innocence.

Of course the stoker was locked up. The man was sullen once more, and
when the iron doors clanged behind him he gave up all hope.

"They've got me! I was a fool!" he muttered.

Shortly after that Steve visited him, and when the boy left the man
Collins was in a better frame of mind. Rush got to work at once. He must
find some one who would remember to have seen Gus leaving town. Suddenly
an idea occurred to the boy. He visited the railroad station. From one
official to another he traveled, asking questions and getting scant
courtesy. Everyone's hand appeared to be against him when the owner
learned the object of Rush's mission.

It was not until the next day that he found the man for whom he was
looking. That was the conductor of the train on which Collins had taken
passage when he left the town the evening of the robbery, and several
hours before it occurred. He had obtained from Collins a description of
the clothes the latter wore on that night, and where he sat in the
train, establishing the fact that the man's soft hat, tipped up behind,
was pulled well down over his face, and that he wore a red necktie.

Armed with this description, Steve visited the conductor at the latter's
home. At first the conductor did not seem to remember, but when Steve
mentioned the felt hat, the red necktie and the stoop of the man's
shoulders in connection with the furtive glancing up from beneath the
eyelids, the railroad man, slapped his thigh violently.

"Of course I remember him. I'd know him if I saw him. He had a scar on
his right cheek----"

"That's the man," cut in Rush triumphantly. "Come over to the station
with me and identify him. You will prevent a grave injustice being done
if you will assist me in this matter."

The conductor readily picked out Gus Collins as the man whom he had seen
on his train proceeding the robbery. A few days later the conductor was
summoned before the Grand Jury, at Steve's instigation, where he
repeated his story in detail. Steve gave evidence also as to what he
knew about the man, repeating the interview he had had with the stoker
on board the ship.

The result was that Gus Collins stepped from his cell a free man that
evening. He said little, but he seemed unable to keep his eyes from the
face of the boy who had saved him from prison. Collins knew that nothing
could have saved him had it not been for the Iron Boy, but somehow he
could not find it possible to express his thankfulness.

"We will go back to Duluth," said the lad. "We shall not be able to
catch the ship down this way I guess. Anyhow, a few days' layoff will
not hurt us in the least."

"What are you going to do with me now?" demanded the fireman, finding
his voice at last.

"I shall take good care of you. Forget all that's past. You are a man
now, and you are going to be a man henceforth. Quit brooding over your
troubles. You haven't any. They were all washed out of you in the lake
the day you went in after me. I have something in mind for you that I
think will please you."

Reaching Duluth, Steve sought Mr Carrhart at once and to the president
the lad told the whole story.

"What do you want, my lad--what do you wish me to do for your friend?"
asked the president kindly.

Rush told him in a few words. The result was that Mr. Carrhart gave the
boy a letter to the superintendent, telling Steve to return for an
interview after he had finished with the Collins' business.

It was a proud and happy Steve who sought out Gus Collins an hour later,
at the hotel where the man and the boy were stopping.

"Well, what about it?" demanded the stoker, without the least trace of
hopefulness in his tone.

"You are to report for duty on the 'Richmond' as soon as she gets in."

"Oh!" Collins' face brightened.

"Here's your appointment," added Steve, handing over a document with the
imprint of the steamship company at its head.

Collins read it through, changed color then stared at Steve.

"Is this some kind of a joke you're playing on me?"

"It is no joke, Gus. You are appointed foreman of the stoke-room of the
ore carrier 'Richmond,' and you'll save more coal for the company than
any other stoker who ever bossed a fire-room."

Collins sat down heavily. The tears were blinding his eyes. Steve did
not try to stop them. He realized that they marked the turning point in
what had been a hard life, a life that had bidden fair to be wholly
wrecked in the name of justice. But what Steve Rush in his unselfishness
did not realize, was that he had saved a human soul.

The interview with Mr. Carrhart took place that afternoon.

"Yes, sir; I think I have a few suggestions to make," answered Steve in
reply to a question from the president. "But first I should like to ask
some questions of you."

"Proceed."

Steve asked the average cost of operating the ships of the fleet per
month; what the ships earned by carrying coal for other concerns on the
return trips, together with a number of other shrewd and pointed
questions. All of these Mr. Carrhart answered freely, knowing that the
boy's reasons for asking them were in the interest of his
investigations.

Rush made some rapid calculations on a pad on the president's desk.

"You have some two hundred ships in the line, I believe, sir?"

"Yes; two hundred and ten."

"Would it be any saving if you could save an hour in the unloading of
these ships--two hundred and ten hours, in other words, every time the
whole fleet made a trip down the lakes?"

"Well, I should say it would."

"That is easy."

"Explain."

"Simply put on an extra unloader for each dock, so that both may work at
the same time."

Mr. Carrhart considered. He, too, made some calculations.

"Yes, that is an excellent suggestion. It will mark a very great saving
in the transportation cost. Candidly, the idea never occurred to me. You
have earned your salary for one year at least," added the president with
an indulgent smile. "I felt sure you would dig up something of value to
us, to say nothing of the value the experience would be to you."

"I'm not through yet," laughed the Iron Boy. "I'm going to show you how
you can save something like thirty thousand dollars a year more on the
carrying proposition."

"Why, Rush, you amaze me. It cannot be possible, after figuring down all
transportations the way the experts of this company have done and been
doing for years."

"The old saying is to the effect that figures never lie. Perhaps mine
do. If so, you will be able to discover the untruth at once."

"May I ask how you propose to work this great saving?" asked the
president good-naturedly.

"Send your boats back light."

"Send them back light?"

"Yes, sir; in water ballast."

"But, my boy, don't you understand that it will mean the loss of a lot
of money to do that? The ships earn a great many thousands of dollars a
year by carrying freight for pay on the return trips."

"Yes, sir; I understand that. Their cargo is mostly coal, is it not?"

"It is."

"For ports all along the Great Lakes?"

"Certainly."

"And through carrying this coal your ships lose from a week to ten days
and some times two weeks' on every round trip."

"How do you know this?" interrupted Mr. Carrhart.

"I have asked questions," smiled Steve. "Call it a week's loss of time
on each trip. Do you know what that means?"

"I begin to see," answered the president reflectively.

"It means that every time your fleet makes a round trip, carrying coal
back with them, the company loses their services to the enormous total
of two hundred and ten weeks, more than four years, Mr. Carrhart. If you
will glance over these figures of mine you will observe that, by this
method, the company is losing about the figure stated by me a few
minutes ago, over and above what you get in freights for carrying the
coal."

The president made a few brief calculations. He went over his figures
and Steve's several times, his forehead corrugated with deep wrinkles as
he did so. At last Mr. Carrhart glanced up, gazing steadily at the
slightly flushed face of the Iron Boy.

"Rush you are a very remarkable young man," he said. "Of course, I knew
that before, but what I did not know was that you had a head for
finance, such as you have just demonstrated. This is really a most
remarkable showing. I shall bring it before the board at the next
meeting. There is no doubt about your suggestions being adopted. I think
it will come in the nature of a revelation to the board. My boy, I am
proud of you. I can't tell you how proud I am, especially so because I
picked you out, feeling from the first that you would prove a winner."

"Thank you, sir."

"And, in this connection, I received a long letter from Captain Simms
from Cleveland yesterday. He made certain suggestions regarding yourself
and your friend Jarvis, which it gives me great pleasure to act upon.
You have been appointed second mate of the steamer 'Richmond'; Jarvis,
first wheelman. You will be called upon to pass a government examination
for a license, which you will take to-morrow morning. You will have no
difficulty about it, if you are as good a navigator as Captain Simms
says you are, and I have no doubt you are. If you remain on the lakes
we'll be making a captain of you some of these days. However, I have an
idea you do not intend to be a sailor."

"No, sir, not permanently."

       *       *       *       *       *

And so Steve Rush began as a watch officer on the Great Lakes. He proved
that the confidence of his superiors was not misplaced, and for the rest
of the season he remained on the "Richmond," distinguishing himself in
many ways. Gus Collins, with his fresh start in life, had dropped his
hang-dog expression. When he talked to a man, now, he looked that man
squarely in the eye, and from the moment of his return to the ship he
was a daily worshipper at the shrine of Steve Rush.

At the close of the season Steve found the foreman a place with a
manufacturing firm, with the help of a letter from Captain Simms. Then,
bidding good-bye to their friends, the lads gathered up their dunnage
and went home for a few weeks' rest before taking up the new life that
they had about decided upon. What happened to them in their new calling
will be related in detail in a following volume entitled, "THE IRON BOYS
IN THE STEEL MILLS; Or, Beginning Anew in the Cinder Pits." In the great
steel mills the boys were to work among the roaring furnaces, the
swiftly moving cranes and the moulding mills, where the metal that they
had helped to mine ran in rivers that turned into gold. There the boys
were to be called upon to face death many times, and in many forms, as
they toiled among the rough men of the mills and laughed at the thousand
and one perils of their new life.


    THE END.


       *       *       *       *       *

    Transcriber's Note

  Obvious spelling and punctuation errors have been corrected, missing
  words have been added.

  The Advertisement of The Boys of Steel Series contains the numbering
  as presented in the book.

  Differing spellings used throughtout the book for:

    life boat, lifeboat and life-boat
    light-house, lighthouse
    layoff, lay-off
    hatch cover, hatch-cover

  are retained as used by the author

       *       *       *       *       *


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  4 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AND THE WIRELESS; Or, The
  Dot, Dash and Dare Cruise.

  5 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB IN FLORIDA; Or, Laying the
  Ghost of Alligator Swamp.

  6 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB AT THE GOLDEN GATE; Or, A
  Thrilling Capture in the Great Fog.

  7 THE MOTOR BOAT CLUB ON THE GREAT LAKES; Or,
  The Flying Dutchman of the Big Fresh Water.

Cloth, Illustrated Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Range and Grange Hustlers

By FRANK GEE PATCHIN

Have you any idea of the excitements, the glories of life on great
ranches in the West? Any bright boy will "devour" the books of this
series, once he has made a start with the first volume.

  1 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS ON THE RANCH;
  Or, The Boy Shepherds of the Great Divide.

  2 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS' GREATEST
  ROUND-UP; Or, Pitting Their Wits Against a Packers'
  Combine.

  3 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS ON THE PLAINS;
  Or, Following the Steam Plows Across the Prairie.

  4 THE RANGE AND GRANGE HUSTLERS AT CHICAGO;
  Or, The Conspiracy of the Wheat Pit.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

Submarine Boys Series

By VICTOR G. DURHAM

These splendid books for boys and girls deal with life aboard submarine
torpedo boats, and with the adventures of the young crew, and possess,
in addition to the author's surpassing knack of storytelling, a great
educational value for all young readers.

  1 THE SUBMARINE BOYS ON DUTY; Or, Life on a Diving
  Torpedo Boat.

  2 THE SUBMARINE BOYS' TRIAL TRIP; Or, "Making Good"
  as Young Experts.

  3 THE SUBMARINE BOYS AND THE MIDDIES; Or, The
  Prize Detail at Annapolis.

  4 THE SUBMARINE BOYS AND THE SPIES; Or, Dodging
  the Sharks of the Deep.

  5 THE SUBMARINE BOYS' LIGHTNING CRUISE; Or, The
  Young Kings of the Deep.

  6 THE SUBMARINE BOYS FOR THE FLAG; Or, Deeding
  Their Lives to Uncle Sam.

  7 THE SUBMARINE BOYS AND THE SMUGGLERS; Or,
  Breaking Up the New Jersey Customs Frauds.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Square Dollar Boys Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

The reading boy will be a voter within a few years; these books are
bound to make him think, and when he casts his vote he will do it more
intelligently for having read these volumes.

  1 THE SQUARE DOLLAR BOYS WAKE UP; Or, Fighting the
  Trolley Franchise Steal.

  2 THE SQUARE DOLLAR BOYS SMASH THE RING; Or, In
  the Lists Against the Crooked Land Deal.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

Ben Lightbody Series

By WALTER BENHAM

  1 BEN LIGHTBODY, SPECIAL; Or, Seizing His First Chance
  to Make Good.

  2 BEN LIGHTBODY'S BIGGEST PUZZLE; Or, Running the
  Double Ghost to Earth.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

Pony Rider Boys Series

By FRANK GEE PATCHIN

These tales may be aptly described as those of a new Cooper. In every
sense they belong to the best class of books for boys and girls.

  1 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE ROCKIES; Or, The Secret
  of the Lost Claim.

  2 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN TEXAS; Or, The Veiled Riddle
  of the Plains.

  3 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN MONTANA; Or, The Mystery
  of the Old Custer Trail.

  4 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE OZARKS; Or, The Secret
  of Ruby Mountain.

  5 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE ALKALI; Or, Finding a
  Key to the Desert Maze.

  6 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN NEW MEXICO; Or, The End
  of the Silver Trail.

  7 THE PONY RIDER BOYS IN THE GRAND CANYON; Or,
  The Mystery of Bright Angel Gulch.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Boys of Steel Series

By JAMES R. MEARS

The author has made of these volumes a series of romances with scenes
laid in the iron and steel world. Each book presents a vivid picture of
some phase of this great industry. The information given is exact and
truthful; above all, each story is full of adventure and fascination.

  1 THE IRON BOYS IN THE MINES; Or, Starting at the Bottom
  of the Shaft.

  2 THE IRON BOYS AS FOREMEN; Or, Heading the Diamond
  Drill Shift.

    THE IRON BOYS ON THE ORE BOATS; Or, Roughing It on
  the Great Lakes.

    THE IRON BOYS IN THE STEEL MILLS; Or, Beginning
  Anew in the Cinder Pits.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

West Point Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

The principal characters in these narratives are manly, young Americans
whose doings will inspire all boy readers.

  1 DICK PRESCOTT'S FIRST YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
  Two Chums in the Cadet Gray.

  2 DICK PRESCOTT'S SECOND YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
  Finding the Glory of the Soldier's Life.

  3 DICK PRESCOTT'S THIRD YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
  Standing Firm for Flag and Honor.

  4 DICK PRESCOTT'S FOURTH YEAR AT WEST POINT; Or,
  Ready to Drop the Gray for Shoulder Straps.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

Annapolis Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

The Spirit of the new Navy is delightfully and truthfully depicted in
these volumes.

  1 DAVE DARRIN'S FIRST YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, Two
  Plebe Midshipmen at the U. S. Naval Academy.

  2 DAVE DARRIN'S SECOND YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or,
  Two Midshipmen as Naval Academy "Youngsters."

  3 DAVE DARRIN'S THIRD YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or, Leaders
  of the Second Class Midshipmen.

  4 DAVE DARRIN'S FOURTH YEAR AT ANNAPOLIS; Or,
  Headed for Graduation and the Big Cruise.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Young Engineers Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

The heroes of these stories are known to readers of the High School Boys
Series. In this new series Tom Reade and Harry Hazelton prove worthy of
all the traditions of Dick & Co.

  1 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN COLORADO; Or, At Railroad
  Building in Earnest.

  2 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN ARIZONA; Or, Laying Tracks
  on the "Man-Killer" Quicksand.

  3 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN NEVADA; Or, Seeking Fortune
  on the Turn of a Pick.

  4 THE YOUNG ENGINEERS IN MEXICO; Or, Fighting the
  Mine Swindlers.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

Boys of the Army Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

These books breathe the life and spirit of the United States Army of
to-day, and the life, just as it is, is described by a master pen.

  1 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS IN THE RANKS; Or, Two Recruits in
  the United States Army.

  2 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS ON FIELD DUTY; Or, Winning Corporal's
  Chevrons.

  3 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS AS SERGEANTS; Or, Handling Their
  First Real Commands.

  4 UNCLE SAM'S BOYS IN THE PHILIPPINES; Or, Following
  the Flag Against the Moros.

(_Other volumes to follow rapidly._)

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

Battleship Boys Series

By FRANK GEE PATCHIN

These stories throb with the life of young Americans on to-day's huge
drab Dreadnaughts.

  1 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS AT SEA; Or, Two Apprentices in
  Uncle Sam's Navy.

  2 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS FIRST STEP UPWARD; Or,
  Winning Their Grades as Petty Officers.

  3 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS IN FOREIGN SERVICE; Or,
  Earning New Ratings in European Seas.

  4 THE BATTLESHIP BOYS IN THE TROPICS; Or, Upholding
  the American Flag in a Honduras Revolution.

(_Other volumes to follow rapidly._)

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Meadow-Brook Girls Series

By JANET ALDRIDGE

Real live stories pulsing with the vibrant atmosphere of outdoor life.

  1 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS UNDER CANVAS; Or, Fun
  and Frolic in the Summer Camp.

  2 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS ACROSS COUNTRY; Or,
  The Young Pathfinders on a Summer Hike.

  3 THE MEADOW-BROOK GIRLS AFLOAT; Or, The Stormy
  Cruise of the Red Rover.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

High School Boys Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

In this series of bright, crisp books a new note has been struck.

Boys of every age under sixty will be interested in these fascinating
volumes.

  1 THE HIGH SCHOOL FRESHMEN; Or, Dick & Co.'s First
  Year Pranks and Sports.

  2 THE HIGH SCHOOL PITCHER; Or, Dick & Co. on the
  Gridley Diamond.

  3 THE HIGH SCHOOL LEFT END; Or, Dick & Co. Grilling on
  the Football Gridiron.

  4 THE HIGH SCHOOL CAPTAIN OF THE TEAM; Or, Dick &
  Co. Leading the Athletic Vanguard.

Cloth, Illustrated   Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

Grammar School Boys Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

This series of stories, based on the actual doings of grammar school
boys, comes near to the heart of the average American boy.

  1 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS OF GRIDLEY; Or, Dick
  & Co. Start Things Moving.

  2 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS SNOWBOUND; Or, Dick
  & Co. at Winter Sports.

  3 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN THE WOODS; Or,
  Dick & Co. Trail Fun and Knowledge.

  4 THE GRAMMAR SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER ATHLETICS;
  Or, Dick & Co. Make Their Fame Secure.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

High School Boys' Vacation Series

By H. IRVING HANCOCK

"Give us more Dick Prescott books!"

This has been the burden of the cry from young readers of the country
over. Almost numberless letters have been received by the publishers,
making this eager demand; for Dick Prescott, Dave Darrin, Tom Reade, and
the other members of Dick & Co. are the most popular high school boys in
the land. Boys will alternately thrill and chuckle when reading these
splendid narratives.

  1 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' CANOE CLUB; Or, Dick & Co.'s
  Rivals on Lake Pleasant.

  2 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS IN SUMMER CAMP; Or, The
  Dick Prescott Six Training for the Gridley Eleven.

  3 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' FISHING TRIP; Or, Dick & Co.
  in the Wilderness.

  4 THE HIGH SCHOOL BOYS' TRAINING HIKE; Or, Dick &
  Co. Making Themselves "Hard as Nails."

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Circus Boys Series

By EDGAR B. P. DARLINGTON

Mr. Darlington's books breathe forth every phase of an intensely
interesting and exciting life.

  1 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE FLYING RINGS; Or, Making
  the Start in the Sawdust Life.

  2 THE CIRCUS BOYS ACROSS THE CONTINENT; Or, Winning
  New Laurels on the Tanbark.

  3 THE CIRCUS BOYS IN DIXIE LAND; Or, Winning the
  Plaudits of the Sunny South.

  4 THE CIRCUS BOYS ON THE MISSISSIPPI; Or, Afloat with
  the Big Show on the Big River.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The High School Girls Series

By JESSIE GRAHAM FLOWER, A. M.

These breezy stories of the American High School Girl take the reader
fairly by storm.

  1 GRACE HARLOWE'S PLEBE YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
  Or, The Merry Doings of the Oakdale Freshman Girls.

  2 GRACE HARLOWE'S SOPHOMORE YEAR AT HIGH
  SCHOOL; Or, The Record of the Girl Chums in Work and
  Athletics.

  3 GRACE HARLOWE'S JUNIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
  Or, Fast Friends in the Sororities.

  4 GRACE HARLOWE'S SENIOR YEAR AT HIGH SCHOOL;
  Or, The Parting of the Ways.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.

       *       *       *       *       *

The Automobile Girls Series

By LAURA DENT CRANE

No girl's library--no family book-case can be considered at all complete
unless it contains these sparkling twentieth-century books.

  1 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT NEWPORT; Or, Watching
  the Summer Parade.

  2 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS IN THE BERKSHIRES; Or,
  The Ghost of Lost Man's Trail.

  3 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS ALONG THE HUDSON; Or,
  Fighting Fire in Sleepy Hollow.

  4 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT CHICAGO; Or, Winning Out
  Against Heavy Odds.

  5 THE AUTOMOBILE GIRLS AT PALM BEACH; Or, Proving
  Their Mettle Under Southern Skies.

Cloth, Illustrated  Price, per Volume, 50c.






End of Project Gutenberg's The Iron Boys on the Ore Boats, by James R. Mears