INTO ROUGH WATERS.
The Boy Scouts of Creston, although expert in nearly all water sports, and
familiar with the gently flowing Hudson, and the quiet inland tides of bay
and Sound, had had no experience as yet of ocean travel. The Alaska trip
was the first test of their sailor-like qualities. In the "Inside passage"
are two stretches of twenty and forty miles, where the full sweep of the
Pacific rollers is felt, and it was while crossing one of these stretches
that the "Queen" took on those erratic motions that sent Dick Pepper and
Don to the open air so quickly and caused not a few of their fellow
travelers considerable discomfort.
Strange as it may seem, none of the other boys were affected by the rough
waters, and they quickly followed their chums to the deck to offer aid and
comfort. It has always been one of the peculiarities of seasickness that,
however important and serious it may seem to the victim, it is prone to
arouse ridicule and humorous suggestions in those who are not subject to
its attacks, and while Rand, Jack and Gerald did what they could for their
unfortunate companions, they could not resist the temptation of an
occasional sly reference to their chums' poor qualities as sailors, that
under any other circumstances would have driven the combative Pepper
frantic.
"Wa' yo tellin' me, hoeny, tha' wa' some great scenery, ovah da'?"
suggested Rand, falling into a broad Southern dialect that he used at
times.
Poor Dick, whose interest centered in the dark blue of the water beneath
him, attempted a glare of indignation with poor results, while Don made no
attempt to express the briefest kind of an "opeenion."
"Faith, and this the celebrated _mal de mer_, is it?" said Gerald, gazing
with mock curious interest at his wilted chums.
"That's brutal, Gerald," exclaimed Jack, "seasickness is bad enough,
without any of your Celtic High School French."
"Begorra, it's about all of it I remember, and maybe I'll never get a
chance to use it again."
"I wish it was catching, like the measles or mumps," gulped Pepper in a
fury, "and I'd give it to you all."
"What, French?" asked his brother.
"Naw, seasickness," yelled Pepper, and bolted for his stateroom to be soon
followed by his two companions in misfortune. A couple of hours in their
bunks with some little attention from their now rather repentant critics,
and the steamer having passed again into still water the patients were
soon restored to normal health, with, if possible, greatly increased
appetities.
Two days later, Jack, who was ever on the alert for something new and had
made friends with several of the officers, thus getting the run of the
ship, was exploring the lower decks, and walked through the quarters of
the third class passengers. These were largely made up of laboring men
going "in" for the summer work. A few miners who had spent all their money
in the Pacific coast cities, and were going back to try their luck again,
and a few of the class whom the police of those and other cities had
simply told to "move on."
The steerage quarters were rather dark, and hearing voices Jack stepped
aside into a narrow passageway between the bunks to let a couple of men
pass. The two turned into the same passageway which concealed Jack, and
the latter recognizing the voice of Dublin sank down into one of the
further berths as the others sat down on a couple of bunks near the
entrance.
"I tell ye it's a better game than the other," said Dublin, "and we're
goin' in for anything we can make."
"I'm not strong for any new game that I don't understand," whined the
voice of Rae, "and we're in bad on this boat, as it stands. We'll find
games enough of our own when we git to Skagway."
"Don't lose yer nerve," said Dublin, "with a good chance to make a stake
in sight. These folks is takin' in a lot of fine machinery, and that Yukon
country is a long ways from where that machinery is made, and every nut
and bolt in it will be worth its weight in coin by the time they've got it
in there. All we got to do is to cop off a piston and a valve or two and
this army man will be willin' to pay several hundred dollars to get 'em
back rather than wait for months to get 'em in from the outside."
"Well," replied Rae, "ye know that stealin' up in this country is bigger
crime than murder, and they don't fool with the courts much."
"Aw, this ain't stealin'," sneered Dublin, "it's only kidnappin' and
holdin' for ransom. I know just whereabouts in the hold this stuff was
stored at Seattle, and that kid, Monkey, of yours, can get at it in ten
minutes if he has the nerve. The stuff is not a hundred feet from us, and
I can show him tonight how to do it."
Rae, who was more or less of a coward, made further protest, but finally
yielded, and the pair slipped out of the passageway and walked away still
discussing the proposed scheme. Jack, glad to be released from the rather
odorous confinement of the bunk into which he had crowded himself, left
the third-class quarters and made for the upper deck.
His newspaper training, of which he had received a considerable amount in
the intervals of his school days in the office of his father's paper in
Creston, included an acute sense of analysis, and he at once arrived at
the opinion that the conspiracy he had heard referred to the freight which
Colonel Snow was taking North, and his first impulse was to lay the matter
before him for such action as he might see fit to take.
Then a foolish ambition to handle the thing alone, born possibly of that
newspaper desire to bring off a "scoop" as an exclusive publication is
called, coupled with the usual boyish longing to become a hero, incited
him to circumvent the plot singlehanded and alone, prevented him from
speaking to either the leader of the party or his chums. In addition, his
journalistic training had instilled deeply one of the first rules of the
profession, accuracy, and to tell the truth he was rather ashamed to go to
Colonel Snow with so little evidence to back up his story, and so he
determined to "keep tabs," as he called it, on Monkey Rae, and knowing he
could handle that young man physically to capture him redhanded and take
him in dramatic fashion before the Captain.
Jack had no doubt that Dublin would carry out any scheme he had in mind at
the first opportunity, and that the attempt to get into the hold would be
made at a hatchway on the same deck with the steerage. The hold at this
part of the ship being filled with machinery and other heavy freight, the
hatch cover was not battened down and most of the time was left partially
off in order to give a circulation of air through that part of the hold
under the steerage.
About ten o'clock that night, Jack slipped away from his companions, and
descended to the engine room deck, where he took up his place behind some
packing cases, and awaited developments. Nearly all the steerage
passengers were in their quarters, for the night was keen and there was
little enjoyment in the open air.
An hour passed and Jack was becoming weary of his vigil, especially in
view of the uncertainty of the coming of his quarry. Then, from the
passageway leading to the steerage a slim figure emerged and by the dim
light of the lamp which illuminated this part of the deck, Jack was just
able to recognize Monkey, who carried in one hand a hatchet, and something
like a policeman's club in the other. Monkey glanced rapidly around the
deck, looking for the watchman who at times visited every portion of the
ship, but the coast was clear.
Crossing the deck the boy slipped easily between the partly raised hatch
cover and the combing, and down the stationary iron ladder into the dark
hold. As he did so a ray of light appeared in the hitherto dark hold.
Glancing around to be sure that neither Dublin nor Rae were standing
sentinel for the young marauder, Jack slipped noiselessly over the deck,
and followed Monkey down the ladder.
A glance showed him that what Monkey carried in his right hand was a
portable electric light and with this he was carefully searching for the
marks upon some packing cases.
Jack tiptoed quietly toward him, intending to take him unawares, failing
in his eagerness to make the capture to allow Monkey to make an attack
upon the case with his hatchet sufficiently to "clinch" his evidence.
Just as Jack put out his hand to grasp the arm that held the hatchet his
foot struck an unseen coil of rope, and he plunged head foremost into
Monkey. The latter pitched forward three or four steps and Jack landed on
his hands and knees, an accident that probably saved him serious injury,
for at the moment the terror-stricken Monkey turned and aimed a furious
blow at whatever had struck him.
At the same time he dropped the electric light, which promptly went out as
the spring was released, and the hold was in darkness. Jack dared not move
for fear of the hatchet, and all he could hear was the loud breathing of
the terrified Monkey, who carefully began to grope for the lost lamp. The
search was vain, and Jack was slowly backing away from the vicinity toward
the ladder, intending to bar Monkey's egress when he heard a movement that
seemed to indicate that Monkey was climbing up the piled-up freight. Then
there were two loud blows with the hatchet on the deck above them which
formed the floor of the steerage quarters.
Scarcely a minute passed before a man with another electric light swarmed
down the ladder, and Jack was in the hands of the powerful Dublin. At the
same moment, Monkey dropped his hatchet and dashed past them to the
ladder, where he hung like his simian namesake, calling shrilly for the
night watchman. Jack made an effort to twist himself loose from the hands
of Dublin, but in vain.
"What are ye doin' down here, ye thief? Tryin' to get at the cargo? Call
the quartermaster there, Monkey."
Realizing the trap into which he had fallen, Jack made no further effort
to release himself until he reached the deck above, when he jerked away
from Dublin and faced the quartermaster and the watchman. There they were
joined by Rae and some of the other steerage passengers.
"Well, well; if it ain't one o' them boy Scouts; them amateur soldiers.
Where d'ye find him, Monkey?"
"I seen him hanging round this deck and when he slipped down in the hold
with a hatchet and a 'lectric light. I followed him. He jumped onto me and
I run back to the ladder and yelled for Dublin, and he come and got him."
"How about this, young feller?" asked the quartermaster. "What were you
doin' down that hold this time o' night. Ain't ye one of Colonel Snow's
party?"
"I am," said Jack, "and this man's story is a straightout falsehood. It
was I who followed this boy down into the hold on information that I
got"--
A burst of laughter from both Rae and Dublin interrupted Jack's story, and
both men swore vehemently that Monkey had been in his berth up to a few
minutes before he had called for Dublin. Jack, recognizing his folly in
not having notified Colonel Snow and the Captain of the conspiracy, and
also the way in which the tables had been turned upon him in his attempt
to "go it alone," said:
"I will explain this thing to the Captain; I think he will understand
it."
"I guess you'd better," said the puzzled quartermaster; "but we can't wake
him up tonight. I'll see ye up to yer stateroom and you can explain in the
morning. And you," he said, sharply, turning to Dublin and Monkey, "you be
on hand with your story. Meantime," to the watchman, "put on that hatch
cover and lock it."
As early the next morning as possible, Jack sought an interview with Col.
Snow and told him the whole story. The latter was greatly interested, but
said plainly that Jack should not have undertaken to handle the matter by
himself.
The Captain was not so easily pacified. He heard both stories and grinned
quietly as both Rae and Dublin tried to make a hero out of Monkey.
"I've told you fellows you're too much in evidence on this boat and I
don't want to hear anything more from you until we get to Skagway." Col.
Snow's intercession arranged matters for Jack but he did not get off any
too easily.
"I haven't any doubt but that your story has a good foundation, but it
would hardly go as evidence in a court of law, and even if the Colonel
here thought it worth while, I don't suppose he cares to be bothered with
a prosecution in courts that are three years behind with their cases. I
shall take occasion to draw the attention of the authorities to this
crowd, when we reach Skagway, however.
"I should like to say, however, that in a case like this, your first duty
was to have informed me, and let me police my own boat. I am the superior
officer here, as you know. I understand you belong to that excellent
organization, the Boy Scouts, and if I am not mistaken, there is one
little line in the ritual devoted to discipline. Good morning." And
despite the rebuke which brought the flush to Jack's face, the captain
smiled, and shook hands pleasantly.
The story could not be kept from the chums, who were rather inclined to
resent Jack's failure to let them take a hand in the capture of Monkey
Rae. They rallied Jack not a little on his grand effort at heroism and
Rand even dug up an old schoolbook quotation about an engineer who had
been hoist with his own petard. The boys took their disappointment out in
various good natured gibes, and mock congratulations to "the Sherlock
Holmes of the good steamer Queen" were a daily occurrence until the
arrival at Ketchikan and new scenes drove the incident from the boys'
memories. It was to be recalled in much more serious form a little later.