The up-lake boat had arrived at Centreport rather later than usual.
Certainly the _Ucayga_ had left her wharf a full ten minutes behind her
ordinary time. The steamer had had even a less favorable chance than
before, and, under her former management, she must have been fifteen or
twenty minutes behind time. I had saved at least five minutes of the
stay at Ruoara, and ten more by going through the Horse-Shoe Channel.
The two trains which met at Ucayga were due at five minutes of four.
They were seldom more than five minutes behind time, and as they were
both obliged to make connections, they could not wait many minutes
for either boat or cars. “On Time,” therefore, meant something; and
it was an inexpressible pleasure to me that I had complied with the
conditions. Boat stock would go up after this feat had been performed
a few times, especially if the Lightning Express was, as on the present
occasion, ten minutes late.
The steamer from Hitaca had arrived at Centreport at about half-past
two. She had left for Middleport as soon as she could take in and
discharge her freight; but she must have been five minutes late for
the express train. Lewis Holgate had probably wasted five minutes
more. When the _Ucayga_ was made fast at the wharf, the train had
just reached the ferry on the other side of the river--the outlet of
the lake. The trains east and west were on time, and by four o’clock
all the passengers who were going in them were in their seats. The
ferry-boat had not yet started. The conductors stamped their feet, and
looked at their watches every half-minute. To wait for the Lightning
Express passengers would add ten minutes more to the time to be made up
in running about twenty-five miles.
As the boat on the other side did not start, the conductors decided
not to wait any longer. The bells rang, and the two trains puffed, and
snorted, and went on their way. I have no doubt there were many hard
words used by the people on board of the ferry-boat, as they saw these
trains start. If Major Toppleton was on board, I had no doubt he used
some big words, for he was not above the infirmity of doing so when
irritated.
Steamer stock went up, and railroad stock went down. In a fair
competition, we had beaten the Lightning Express. I was satisfied that
this calamity to the railroad, under the circumstances, would cost
Lewis Holgate his situation; for the major, and even Tommy, would be
indignant at the result. I was confident that what we had done this
time could always be done, for we had made our quick time against a
strong head-wind.
“We have done it, Wolf!” exclaimed Waddie, as he came up to me, with a
familiar slap on the back, after the trains left.
“Yes; and we have done it under rather unfavorable circumstances,” I
replied, quite as pleased as he was with the result.
“No matter, so long as we have done it. If we can only keep doing it I
shall be satisfied.”
“We can; as long as we can leave Centreport at half-past eight in the
morning, and half-past two in the afternoon, I will guarantee to land
the passengers here at five minutes before ten and five minutes before
four. Of course some accident may happen once or twice a year, but the
rule shall be without any ordinary exception.”
“I wish we could compete with them going the other way,” said Waddie
anxiously.
“I wish we could; but I don’t think that will be practicable until we
have another boat. With one more steamer, we can have it all our own
way,” I replied.
“Can’t we do anything, Wolf?”
“If the up-lake boats will be ten or fifteen minutes late in leaving
Centreport, we may; but we can’t promise to land passengers there in
season to continue their trip by the next boat. You must not promise
anything which you are not sure of performing.”
“I wish we could do something,” added Waddie. “I would give anything to
beat the railroad both ways.”
“We can mend the matter; but I don’t think we can always be sure of
connecting with the Hitaca boat. Let us see. Our time-table now is:
Leave Ucayga 4.15.
Arrive at Ruoara 5.00.
Leave Ruoara 5.15.
Arrive at Centreport 5.45.
We can improve this, I think,” said I, writing on a card the places and
times as I stated them.
“Leave Ucayga 4.00.
Arrive at Ruoara 4.45.
Leave Ruoara 4.55.
Arrive at Centreport 5.25.
That is twenty minutes better than we do now.”
“But the Hitaca boat is advertised to leave Centreport at 5.15,”
interposed Waddie, looking over my figures.
“She is advertised to do it, but lately she has been regularly ten or
fifteen minutes behind time,” I replied. “To-day she will be nearer
half an hour.”
“Try it on, Wolf,” said Waddie, with enthusiasm.
“I will; but you must not go before your advertised hours.”
“That will make no difference. We are advertised to go on the arrival
of the boats and trains.”
“Then what are we waiting for?” I replied. “All aboard!” I called to
Van Wolter, the mate.
My zealous assistant shouted the usual warnings, and passengers on the
wharf, who were waiting for the ferry-boat, were invited to come on
board. Some of them accepted the assurance of Waddie that we should
connect with the Hitaca boat at Centreport, and took passage with us.
Just as the _Middleport_, with her indignant passengers, approached the
wharf, the _Ucayga_ backed out, and commenced her trip up the lake.
“You appear to be in a hurry, Wolf?” said Colonel Wimpleton, taking a
seat with me in the wheel-house, where Van Wolter had the helm.
I showed him the card on which I had written out the time I proposed to
make.
“We can leave Ucayga at four o’clock as well as quarter of an hour
later,” I added. “The Lightning Express cannot land a passenger in
Centreport in a minute less than an hour and a quarter. We can make our
sailing-time in just that space. If we can save five or ten minutes
of our stay at Ruoara, we need not be more than five or ten minutes
behind this time in reaching Centreport.”
“Do as you think best, Wolf,” replied Colonel Wimpleton, with the most
friendly smile I had ever seen on his face.
“We shall get to Centreport first to-day, without a doubt.”
We discussed the matter for a while, but we were satisfied that nothing
more than a temporary advantage could be gained until we had another
steamer. Before the _Ucayga_ reached the islands I took a walk through
the boat. Among the passengers I met quite a number whom I had known
on the Lightning Express, and was very kindly congratulated upon
my advancement. Some of them laughed at the idea of a boy like me
commanding such a steamer; but I defended myself from the charge of
being a boy. I should soon be seventeen; my mustache was beginning to
develop itself, and I was only a few inches shorter than my father.
Younger fellows than I had done bigger things than to command a
lake steamer. I had shaved myself every week or fortnight for six
months, borrowing my father’s razor when he was away, and performing
the operation in the secrecy of my chamber, with the door bolted,
to prevent the possibility of an interruption, and the consequent
annoyance of being twitted.
I made a desperate resolve, after being “bothered” for my juvenility,
to purchase a razor and other implements, and shave myself every day,
so as to encourage the downy growth upon my upper lip and chin. I also
decided to have a frock-coat, and to wear a hat, in order still further
to obviate the objectionable circumstances of “the young captain of
the _Ucayga_ steamer.” I regarded it as rather malicious in people to
insist upon it that I was a boy. I was not a boy. I was at least a
young man, and I was doing a man’s work. They might as well call a man
of thirty a boy because he played baseball.
In my tour of inspection I called upon my father in the engine-room.
I had not seen him since the boat left Centreport. Like a faithful
engineer, he had looked only at the machinery before him, and not
troubled himself about other matters. He hardly knew anything of the
exciting events in which he had been a prominent actor.
“How goes it, Wolf?” he asked, as I sat down in his armchair.
“First-rate.”
“Have you quarreled with Waddie or the colonel yet?” he inquired,
laughing.
“No, sir, and am not likely to do so at present. I am not on the top of
the wave. We have beaten the Lightning Express down, and are going to
do the same thing up.”
“Don’t overdo the matter, and don’t promise more than you can perform.”
“I don’t intend to do so. I know just what I can do, and I’m going to
do it.”
“Don’t commit yourself to Waddie or his father, Wolf. Either of them
would kick you out of your high place as quickly as he put you into it.”
“I think everything is going well now, father. The colonel intends to
build another boat immediately, and by next spring nobody will trouble
the Lake Shore Railroad, except those who live upon the line.”
“Don’t be too confident.”
“I know it! I have been studying up this steamboat business ever since
I was discharged by Major Toppleton.”
“You are down on the major hard now,” said my father.
“No, I’m not. I don’t wish him any harm; but while I’m paid for serving
the steamboat company, I intend to serve it. I’ve nothing to do with
the great men’s quarrels; but I’m going to be on time, and do the best
thing I can for my employers. I’m going to put her through by daylight.”
By this time the steamer was approaching the Horse-Shoe Channel, and
I went up to the wheel-house. I had taken the bearings so as to pilot
the boat through in this direction as well as in the other. By the same
process, and with the same precautions, I steered the _Ucayga_ safely
through the narrow passage, and we reached the wharf at Ruoara about
three minutes inside of the time I had proposed, for the strong wind
helped us in going up the lake.