IN A COLLISION
With the increase of daylight, objects on and about the freighter
became clearer. But looking over the side Nat and the policeman could
see nothing of the mate. Members of the crew who had hastily leaped
from their bunks began asking what the matter was. Soon the captain
came from his cabin.
"They've killed my uncle!" exclaimed Sam Shaw. "That's what they did!
I heard them throw him overboard. That mean Nat Morton did it! I'll
have him arrested for murder!"
"Oh, dry up!" exclaimed Nat, quite put out with the unexpected turn of
events.
"I'll lick you; that's what I'll do!" cried Sam, advancing on Nat with
outstretched fists.
"Keep away from me!" retorted Nat. "I whipped you once, and I can do
it again!"
"He didn't push your uncle overboard," said one of the crew. "He
jumped."
"That's what he did," added the policeman. "He got away from me, too.
Somebody get me a boat."
"What for?" asked the captain.
"Because I'm an officer of the law, and a prisoner has escaped. I had
him a prisoner, all right, for I had my hand on him, but he went so
sudden he got away."
"There's a boat moored alongside," said the captain, when matters had
been briefly explained. "But you want to hurry. I can't lay here all
day, though how I'm going to sail without a mate is more than I know."
"I'll get him for you, but I'll have to take him right away again,"
said the officer. "He's a criminal and a fugitive from justice."
The mate might have been almost anything, as far as any denial on his
part was concerned, for not a trace of him had been seen since he
jumped overboard. Sam Shaw, mean as he was, had a genuine affection
for his uncle, and he was much distressed about his relative.
"He's drowned! I know he's drowned!" he exclaimed, as he walked about
the deck, half crying.
"Oh, dry up!" advised Nat savagely, for he knew the mate was a good
swimmer, and he had no doubt but that Bumstead had managed to reach
shore, under cover of the semi-darkness, and was far enough away by
this time.
Meanwhile, the policeman got into a boat and rowed about, but all to
no purpose. The mate had disappeared as completely as if he was at the
bottom of the lake.
"Well," said Nat, much disappointed, "that's done with. It's a
failure. I guess I'd have done better if I'd gone alone, and not taken
the policeman with me, though he meant well enough. Now I'd better get
some breakfast and then arrange to have some one row me out to meet
the _Mermaid_."
He told the officer that he would have to leave.
"Very well," replied the policeman. "You may go, but I'll never give
up hunting for my prisoner. It's the first time one ever got away from
me, and I'm not going to stand it. I'll keep hunting until I find him,
if it takes all day or a whole year. You had better leave me your
address, and as soon as I arrest him, I'll let you know."
"I don't believe that would do any good. I travel about so, on the
boat, that I can't tell just what my address will be. You had better
give me the warrant; I may run across him at some other port."
Rather reluctantly the policeman gave up the legal document.
"I wish I had handcuffed him at first," he said. "Then he couldn't
have gotten away, and if he jumped in the water he would have been
drowned."
"I wouldn't care about having that happen," said Nat.
"Me either, though I hate to let a prisoner get away. But I'll catch
him yet, you see."
And when Nat had gone ashore, eaten his breakfast in a little
restaurant, and was being rowed out to be picked up by the _Mermaid_,
the policeman was still searching about the dock and adjacent shore
for the missing mate.
Captain Turton and the pilot sympathized with Nat over the failure of
his mission, but they said Bumstead was sure to be arrested sooner or
later.
"He'll probably transfer to some other boat, now," said Nat.
"Very likely," answered Mr. Weatherby. "He knows you are after him,
and it's going to be harder to arrest him."
The _Mermaid_ proceeded on her way, and for some time Nat was so
occupied with his work, for there was a great increase in passenger
traffic, that he almost forgot about the rascally mate and the stolen
money.
Meanwhile, as my young readers have probably surmised, Bumstead had
safely reached shore and had arranged to keep out of the way of
officers of the law. The sudden appearance of the policeman in his
cabin had been the first intimation that there was a warrant for his
arrest, and that Nat knew of his appropriation of the fifteen hundred
dollars belonging to Mr. Morton.
It is true the mate had fancied Nat was suspicious, after the lad had
seen the wallet, and questioned him about it, but, when some time
passed, and nothing resulted, the scoundrel thought that Nat either
had his suspicions lulled, or did not know how to go about recovering
the money. That a previous plan to arrest him had failed, by his shift
of vessels, the mate never dreamed.
Now he knew he must make another change. It would not be safe to
remain aboard the _Spray_. Accordingly, when he had reached shore,
after his sensational leap for liberty, he sought refuge with a man he
knew at Cove Point. He remained there until he heard that Nat had
left, and that the policeman, very reluctantly, had given up the
search.
Then the mate sent for his nephew, and the pair took what money was
coming to them and left town. About two weeks after this the mate
secured a place on the freighter _Liberty Bell_, which plied up and
down Lake Huron.
"Uncle Joe, what did that officer want?" asked Sam Shaw of his
relative, one day, when he happened to mention their former place
aboard the _Spray_. "Was it in connection with that charge you made
against Nat before the pilot board?"
"Well--er--yes--that was it. They wanted my testimony."
"Why don't you give it to them? I'd like to see that Morton chap
locked up. How did he escape being sent to jail on your charge?"
"I don't exactly know," replied the mate. "I guess he is only out on
bail."
"I hope they send him to prison for a long time. I can't bear him,
he's so stuck up, thinking he's a regular pilot."
"Well, I'll fix him," murmured the mate. He did not want his nephew to
know about the accusation Nat had made, for he was afraid Sam might,
unconsciously, betray him. Nor was the mate altogether easy regarding
the charge he had made before the pilot board. He had read in the
papers about that case, and how he was wanted for contempt of court.
He thus had to face two charges, and he knew he must be very careful
when he went ashore, lest he be arrested.
"We'll meet the vessel that Morton fellow is on, this trip, Uncle
Joe," went on Sam.
"How's that?"
"Well, we're going to Bay City, and the _Mermaid_ is coming to
Detroit, according to the papers."
"Is that so?" asked the mate, suddenly interested. "I wonder where
we'll pass her?"
"About Ludlow's Island," answered Sam, who was developing a good
knowledge of the lakes.
"Ludlow's Island," repeated the mate. "The channel there is quite
narrow. We'll have to pass quite close."
"Do you think he'll see you, Uncle Joe?"
"No--of course not. What does it matter? I'm not keeping out of his
way. I had certain reasons for not wanting that officer to take me to
court; that's why I leaped overboard that time."
"Oh," answered Sam, who had not heard the explanation given by Nat and
the policeman.
"So we'll pass his vessel quite close," murmured the mate, when his
nephew had left him. "That's my chance. If I can be left in charge of
the wheel I think I can make Nat Morton wish he had never interfered
with me. Let's see, we ought to get to Ludlow's Island to-morrow
night. I hope it's dark or foggy."
Meanwhile, all unconscious of the perils in store for him, Nat was,
that same day, guiding the vessel of which he was now officially the
assistant pilot toward Detroit.
"It's going to be a thick night," said Mr. Weatherby, as Nat relieved
him in the pilot-house, the evening of the day after the conversation
set down above between Sam Shaw and his uncle. "I think there will be
quite a fog before morning. Don't take any chances. If you're in
doubt call me, but I'd like you to try your hand at taking the ship
past Ludlow's Island. It's one of the worst places in the lake, and
when you've been through that, in a fog, you're almost entitled to a
pilot's license."
"I'll try it, Mr. Weatherby."
"That's the way to talk."
As the night came on the fog increased, until Nat decided he would
slow down to half speed. The bell and whistle were kept going at
regular intervals, and two men were stationed in the bow as lookouts.
It was close to midnight when Nat, who had decided to ask to be
relieved, for he was a little doubtful of his ability under such bad
conditions, saw through the haze another vessel approaching. He was in
the narrowest part of the channel.
"There isn't time to send word to Mr. Weatherby now," he thought.
"I'll wait until I pass that ship. Then I'll go below, for I'm getting
nervous here."
The two vessels were approaching nearer and nearer to each other. If
Nat had been aware that the ship he was about to pass was the one on
which was his enemy, the mate, doubtless he would have been more
nervous than he was.
"He seems to be crowding too close over this way," thought Nat. "Guess
I'll give him a caution signal."
He pulled the whistle wire sharply. Short blasts came forth from the
_Mermaid's_ hoarse siren. To Nat's surprise the other vessel, instead
of keeping away from him, in the narrow channel, seemed to be coming
closer.
"Doesn't he know enough to keep away, and on his own course?" said the
young pilot half aloud.
He waited with an anxiously beating heart, and at the same time looked
around to see if anybody else was near.
"Oh, if only Mr. Weatherby was here now!" he told himself. Never had
he missed the old pilot so much as at this moment. For one instant he
thought of yelling for assistance, but knew it would be useless, for
his voice would not carry far enough. He was in sole charge and must
do the best he could.
"Perhaps that other pilot is drunk," he murmured, and then shut his
teeth hard. He was "up against it good and hard," and he realized it
only too well. He trembled in spite of himself, and an icy chill began
to creep up and down his backbone.
He gave another signal. Then, as he watched, he saw the prow of the
other vessel turn toward him.
"He's going to ram me!" exclaimed Nat.
Quickly he gave another signal, and then he rang for full speed
astern. But it was too late. With a crash the other vessel was upon
him, though the result was different from what might have been
expected.
The _Mermaid_ was a steel boat, while the _Liberty Bell_ was an old
wooden one. Instead of the bow of the latter crashing into the hull of
the passenger steamer, the bow of the freight boat crumpled up like
paper, being smashed into kindling wood up as far as the pilot-house,
part of which was demolished.
There was a confused ringing of bells and blowing of whistles, and
then both vessels came to a stop.