A LUMBER BOAT IN A STORM
The rain had slackened a little, and now the wind was rising. Dale and
Owen continued their sight-seeing, and then returned to the schooner,
for they had arranged to remain on the craft that night, so that they
might be ready for the start early in the morning.
The _Elizabeth_ was a three-master, broad of beam, and with good
carrying capacity. She was loaded with dressed lumber, consigned to a
lumber yard at Detroit, and carried a crew of twelve, besides the cook.
The lumber filled not only the hold, but also a good part of the deck,
so moving from one part of the ship to another was not easy.
The young lumbermen slept soundly, and when they arose they found the
schooner was already getting under way. Dressing hastily, they went on
deck, to receive a bluff "good-morning" from Captain Dacker.
Dale and Owen watched the hoisting of the sails with interest, and
lent a hand at coiling up the ropes used for fastening the ship to the
dock. Then the _Elizabeth_ moved on down the Saginaw River, and the
journey toward the bay and the lake was begun.
The Saginaw River is not a large stream, and the city of that name is
situated about twenty miles from its mouth, near which is located Bay
City. The run to Bay City and into Saginaw Bay occupied a little over
two hours, and then the schooner stood boldly to the northeast, for
Burnt Cabin Point, as it is called, where the bay opens into Lake Huron.
"This is a good, stiff breeze," said Owen. "I hope it keeps up all the
way to Detroit."
"The trouble of it is, it won't be in our favor after we turn to run
southward on the lake," answered Dale. "We'll have to do a lot of
tacking."
"Oh, well, if the trip lasts a day or two longer than expected, who
cares? I think a week of this would just suit me."
They found the crew of the lumber boat a mixed one, composed of
Norwegians, Germans, French, and one or two Americans. But this was
not strange, for the majority of the population around the Lakes is
composed of foreigners of many nationalities, Germans, Norwegians,
Swedes, and French predominating.
"Have you any idea how far it is to Detroit from here?" asked Dale.
"I don't know exactly, but I should say close to four hundred miles by
the way the schooner will take," replied Owen.
As the weather was hot, the breeze from over the bay proved very
acceptable, and the young lumbermen sat for a good part of the time
near the bow of the schooner taking in the distant sights. But soon
land was left behind, and all they could see was the blue sky and the
smooth, greenish-blue waters of the lake, rippling in the breeze.
"What a difference between this and the Atlantic Ocean," remarked Owen.
"There the water is never quiet. This looks like a big millpond in
comparison."
"Aint no millpond when there is a storm on," said one of the deck
hands, who stood near. "I've spent four years on boats, two years on
the Atlantic and two on the Lakes, and I can tell you that a storm on
the Lakes is just as bad as any on the ocean."
All day long the wind kept its pace, and soon Captain Dacker announced
that they had reached the lake proper. As night came on, they could
see, off the starboard quarter, the lighthouse at Point aux Barques,
and just beyond the twinkling lights of Grindstone City. Then the
course of the _Elizabeth_ was changed, and they stood almost south for
Port Huron.
When the young lumbermen got up the next morning, they found that the
wind had died down utterly, and the schooner was lying motionless on
what looked for all the world like a sea of glass. The sun was coming
up in the east like a great ball of fire, throwing a streak of golden
yellow toward them.
"It's going to be hot now," declared Owen, and his prediction proved
true. As the sun mounted higher the thermometer rose steadily, until
the young lumbermen were glad enough to keep in the shade.
The _Elizabeth_ was doing her best to catch what air there was, but
this was for the most part a failure, and ever and anon the sails would
flop idly, showing there was nothing to fill them. Not a sound was
stirring, and the young lumbermen thought of the big and silent forest
in which they had worked so often. This silence was equally oppressive.
Noon came and went, and still the calm continued. Then a dark streak
appeared to the northwestward, followed by sudden and uncertain puffs
of air.
"We are going to catch a breeze now," said Captain Dacker grimly. "I
only hope we don't get too much of it."
Soon the sails were drawing once more, and away they sped, the wind
sending up the whitecaps all around them. The bow of the _Elizabeth_
was covered with flying spray, so that the young lumbermen had to shift
from this point of observation. The captain looked at his barometer and
saw that it was falling rapidly.
"We are up against it now," said one of the deck hands to Dale. "If I
aint mistaken we'll be lucky if we don't lose some of the cargo."
"Do you mean that we are going to have a storm?"
"That's what--and a heavy one, too."
The sky was growing dark rapidly, and when the sun went under the
clouds the lake turned a deep green, ominous to look upon. Sails
were trimmed with speed, and the chains holding the deck cargo were
carefully inspected. Then came a sudden blow that sent the wind
whirling through all parts of the schooner.
"Better go below, you two!" shouted the captain. "'Taint safe up here
for landsmen. You might be washed overboard."
"I'll risk it," answered Owen.
"And so will I," added Dale, and both held fast to the rail of the
companionway.
Not long after this the captain ordered everything but the mainsail
taken in. The big sheet was reefed, just enough canvas being left up to
give the schooner headway. The wind was now whistling a perfect gale.
"This is worse than that storm in the forest!" cried Dale, as the spray
flew all over the deck.
"It's a wonder it doesn't turn the schooner upside down," came from
Owen. And then he added: "Guess we had better go below after all, and
secure our things, or everything will be smashed."
Going below was no easy task, and they slid rather than walked down the
companionway, and across the cabin. As expected, everything in their
stateroom was on the floor, and knocking around at a lively rate.
By the time matters were straightened out, and things secured, the
storm was at its height, and the _Elizabeth_ pitched and tossed as if
on the point of going to the bottom at any moment. It was so dark below
that neither Dale nor Owen could see, and lighting a lamp was entirely
out of the question, and was, as a matter of fact, forbidden by Captain
Dacker on account of danger from fire. Feeling their way out into
the cabin, they essayed to mount once more to the deck, when with a
crash the companionway door burst open and a flood of water rushed in,
upsetting them in a twinkling.
As the pair rolled over toward the stationary table, more water came
down, and it was several seconds before Owen could get on his feet.
Then, holding to the table with one hand, he assisted Dale to arise
with the other.
"My! but this is the worst yet!" began Owen, when a crash on the deck
interrupted him. Another crash followed, and they heard one of the
deck hands cry out in pain. Then came a third crash, and a bump, and a
second later half a dozen boards came sliding down the companionway.
"Look out!" yelled Owen, and they leaped to one side. But the boards
did not reach them, and remained jammed in the doorway.
"Clear away the wreck there!" bawled Captain Dacker. "Be lively, men.
Secure the rest of that lumber if you can, and if you can't shove it
over. Jackson, help Neinstein to the fo'cas'l. Onnett, throw that wheel
over again, and be quick about it!"
If more orders were added they were lost in the roaring of the wind
and the dashing of the waves as they again swept the deck of the
_Elizabeth_. Part of the lumber on the deck had been washed away,
and poor Neinstein had had his ankle twisted in trying to secure the
balance. Boards and beams were slipping and sliding in all directions,
crashing into railings and cabin and forecastle. One beam went through
the cook's galley, wrecking the stove, in which, fortunately, there was
no fire.
For fully an hour the storm lasted, then cleared away as rapidly as it
had come. There was very little thunder and lightning. As the wind went
down the atmosphere became colder, until more than one wet and tired
sailor began to shiver. But before any time was allowed for changing
clothing, Captain Dacker had the deck cargo redistributed and made
secure, and had what damage was done repaired.
"That was a blow and no mistake," said Dale, as he came on deck. "I
don't believe it could be worse on the Atlantic, although it might last
longer."
"They sometimes last a long while on these lakes," answered Captain
Dacker.
"Did you lose much lumber?"
"A couple of hundred dollars' worth, I reckon. We came close to losing
a lot more, but the chains held pretty good."
"I guess we're lucky that we didn't go to the bottom."
"Being filled up with lumber, the _Elizabeth_ couldn't sink very well.
But we might have become water-logged and been washed up somewhere
along the shore. We came out of it, all told, pretty well."
For the balance of the day the air remained cool. At midnight came a
strong but steady breeze, and once again the schooner plowed along on
her way to Detroit.
"I don't know that I would care to work on a lumber boat," said Owen,
on the day following, when the sun shone as warmly as ever. "It's too
monotonous."
"Not when there's a storm on," replied Dale, laughing.
"You know what I mean. Now, in the forest there is a constant change,
and the place is full of plant and animal life. Here, one wave is
exactly like the next."
"Not a bit of it," said a deck hand standing near. "Every wave is
different. But trees in a big woods are all alike."
"Which shows that everything is as you look at it," declared Dale. "The
lumberman was cut out for the woods, and the sailor for the sea, and
there you are."
Captain Dacker wished to make a brief stop at Port Huron, and did so.
Then the course was continued to the St. Clair River, and one day later
the schooner swept into Lake St. Clair. Two hours later they came in
sight of the factories of Detroit, with their many smoking chimneys,
and then, running past Belle Isle, they tied up at a large lumber dock;
and the trip on the lumber boat came to an end.