IN THE GRIP OF A GIANT SHELL
BEFORE Captain Simms would permit the lad to leave him, he had to hear
the story of Steve's experiences. The story was frequently interrupted
by grunts of approval on the part of the skipper. The latter was not an
emotional man, as was evidenced by his greeting of Rush after the boy
had, as it were, risen from the lake.
Rush's story finished, he asked the captain to tell him all about what
had occurred after the accident.
"It isn't what did occur so much as what's going to happen," answered
the master gloomily.
"What do you mean, sir?"
"I shall lose my license."
"What, and you not to blame? Impossible."
"Yes, but how am I going to prove that I am blameless?"
"The authorities will believe what you say, will they not?"
"They have just as good a right to believe the captain of the other
boat. He will say it was my fault, and perhaps I shall say it was his
fault, and there you are. Both of us will lose out in the end. The other
skipper was saved and I am glad of it. It seems too bad that, after all
these years on the lakes without a blemish on my record, I have to be
knocked out at this time. My wife and little girl will be heart-broken."
"Perhaps it will not be so bad as you think, sir. Of course, we are all
deeply grieved over the loss of life. That cannot now be helped. It is
our business to find out where the blame is and fix it there, no matter
whom it hits. I know one whom I am pretty sure it will not hit."
Captain Simms squinted at the lad.
"Who?"
"Yourself."
"Rush, you're a fine fellow. I like you," announced the skipper, with
something approaching enthusiasm in his voice as he stepped forward and
grasped the hands of his deck man in a grip of iron. Steve thought he
had a pretty good grip himself, but his own was as nothing compared with
that of the captain of the "Wanderer."
"I reported the accident from Detroit, and was ordered to proceed to
destination if able. I haven't heard anything from headquarters yet. I
shall hear something in the morning, as soon as our arrival here is
reported."
"When do we unload?"
"They begin in about an hour."
"Then I must get into some old clothes and get ready for work."
"You need not go on duty to-night, unless you wish to."
"I prefer it. You see, I have been idle for a couple of days and I shall
get out of practice," replied the boy, with a good-natured laugh.
"Idle! Humph! After swimming half way across Lake Huron, being drowned
into the bargain, walking almost across the state of Michigan, going
without food for twenty-four hours, not to speak of a few other little
things--then to talk about being idle. Go back and tell the cook to set
up the best on the ship. After you have had a good meal you may go to
work, if you wish. I suppose you'll not be satisfied unless you do. Go
on with you. Tell the first mate I want to see him."
An hour later found Steve in his working clothes. The cranes for
unloading were just being moved into place when he reached the deck.
These were huge affairs, each provided with a giant scoop that gulped a
little mouthful of some fifty tons of ore every time its iron jaws were
opened.
There was a rattle and a bang as the hatch covers were being ripped off
and cast to the far side of the deck; men on the trestles were
shouting, whistles were blowing in the harbor, gasoline launches
conveying ship's officers to and from the other side of the inlet, were
exhausting with vicious explosions. Steve thought he had never seen such
confusion before, yet he knew full well that there was in reality no
confusion about it. Everything was being worked out in keeping with a
perfectly arranged system.
"Rush, you get down in the hold and take charge of the unloading,"
ordered the mate.
Steve hurried below. The hold was dimly lighted by an electric light at
either end. He did not know exactly what he was expected to do. The
great scoop dived down, swallowed a mouthful of ore and was out with it
like some huge monster, almost before Rush realized what was going on.
"Whew! That's going some!" he exclaimed. "There comes the thing again.
Hello, up there!" cried the boy, with hands to mouth. "Hadn't you better
take out some from the other end so as to unload the boat evenly?"
"Yes, that's what we've got you down there for, to watch things,"
shouted a voice from the deck. "You're all right. Keep it up!"
"I don't know whether I am, or not," muttered the boy making his way
over the ore to the stern of the hold. "This strikes me as being a
dangerous sort of spot."
He watched the huge steel lips of the scoop as it felt about like the
lips of a horse gathering the oats from its manger, quickly grabbing up
its fifty tons of ore then leaping for the trestle some fifty feet
above, where it dropped its burden into cars waiting to transfer the ore
to the furnaces.
Load after load was scooped up. The rattle and the bang of the unloader
was deafening. It made the Iron Boy's ears ache.
"According to the speed at which we are unloading, now, we should be
finished in about four hours," he said. "This is the most wonderful
mechanism I ever saw!"
There came a lull, during which the ship was moved further astern, in
order that the unloader might pick up ore from the forward part of the
hold. By the time this had been done, and the huge crane shifted to its
new position, nearly an hour had been lost.
The boy pondered over this for some time. It seemed to him like an
unnecessary loss of time.
"Why, so long as they have one crane at an unloading point, should they
not have more?" he reflected. "This is worth looking into."
He thought he saw where a great improvement could be made, and he
decided to think it over when he had more time. Perhaps he could
suggest something to the officials that would be of use to them after
all.
Steve and his companion, while working as ordinary seamen, were drawing
the same fine salaries that they had received in the mines. Therefore
the boys felt it was their duty to earn the money being paid to them by
doing something worth while. They were getting three times as much as
was paid to the other men doing similar work.
As Rush was thinking all these things over the lights in the hold
suddenly went out, leaving the place in absolute darkness.
"Lights out!" he shouted.
A rush of air fanned his cheek. He raised a hand to brush away some
object that seemed to be hovering over him. It was as if invisible hands
were groping in the dark, feeling for the Iron Boy's face to caress it.
Steve instinctively crouched down as low as he could on the ore. There
was little of it beneath him, the greater part having been removed by
the giant shell of the unloader.
Suddenly with a groan and many creakings the object whose presence he
had dimly felt now closed over him.
"The unloader!" cried Steve. "It's caught me! It's caught me!"