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.