THE BLOW IN THE DARK
THEY had passed out through Lake St. Clair as eight bells rang out.
Steve relinquished the wheel to the next watch and bidding good night to
the captain started back toward his quarters.
The lad made his way back over the deck, strolling slowly along,
enjoying the night and thinking over the events of the evening. As he
reached the after deck-house he halted, leaning against it looking
forward and watching the gentle rising and falling of the upper works
forward.
"It is almost fascinating enough to make one want to spend his life on
board a ship," mused the Iron Boy. "Well, I must turn in. I----"
He did not finish what he was about to say. A crushing blow was dealt
him on the back of the head, coming from the deep shadows on the
starboard side of the after deck-house.
Steve staggered forward, then fell face downward on the steel deck of
the "Richmond."
Sailors found him there, half an hour later, unconscious. No one knew
what had happened. The captain was notified at once and he, after an
examination of the boy, decided that Steve had fallen against a steel
hatch and had given his head a severe bump. They worked over the lad for
nearly an hour before getting him back to consciousness. He had been put
to bed, and Bob was detailed to sit by and watch his companion, which he
did with solemn face. Steve fell into a deep sleep from which he did not
fully awaken until morning.
He was lame and sore from head to feet. Bob was asleep on the edge of
the berth and the ship was rolling heavily. Without waking his
companion, Rush got up after much effort, dressed himself, and,
supporting himself by keeping his hands on the woodwork, made his way
outside. Day was just breaking.
Steve leaned against the deck-house in the same position that he had
been occupying on the previous night when he was struck.
The captain, at that juncture, came along on his way to breakfast.
"Hello, Rush," he greeted, halting. "How do you feel?"
"All knocked out."
"That's too bad. Come in and have some breakfast. You will feel better
after that."
"I do not think I want any breakfast, sir."
"Pshaw! Come along. By the way, you had a nasty fall last night, didn't
you?"
"I should say I did."
"How did you happen to slip?"
"I didn't slip, captain."
"You didn't?"
"No, sir."
"Then how did you happen to crack your head on a hatch cover?"
"How was I lying when you found me?"
"They said you were lying on your face."
"If that was the case, I couldn't very well have bumped the back of my
head on a hatch cover, could I?"
"That had not occurred to me before. See here, didn't you lose your
balance or stumble and fall?"
"I fell, but it was through no fault of my own."
"Will you tell me what did happen?" questioned the captain with a
puzzled expression on his face.
"I think I was struck," answered Rush calmly.
"Knocked down?"
"Yes, sir."
"Impossible! Who--what----?"
"I do not know any more about it than you do, sir. I was standing here
just as I am now, when I got a terrible blow on the back of my head. I
didn't know it was a blow then, but as I think it over I remember very
well. Everything grew dark about me. The next I knew I was in my cabin,
with you and Jarvis working over me."
"What you are telling me is a very serious matter, Rush."
"It was serious enough for me at the time."
"Who was on the deck at the time?"
"No one, so far as I observed."
"But, it would have been impossible for any one to approach close enough
to hit you, without your either hearing or seeing him."
"It would seem so. Yet the fact remains that I was hit. It takes
considerable to knock me out, sir, but I got enough last night."
"Do you suspect any one?"
"Not a person. I cannot understand it at all."
"Well, you just keep your eyes open. If you find out who struck that
dastardly blow I'll deal severely with him. He won't be in condition to
strike any one else for some time to come."
"I think I shall be able to take care of the man myself when I meet him
and know him," replied the lad, with a faint smile. "I shall report for
duty on time this morning, so please do not put any one in my place."
"Very well; perhaps it will do you good to be busy. Well, I'm going to
breakfast. Let me know if you get a line on this mystery."
Steve did not answer. He stood leaning against the after deck-house,
thinking. Finally he turned with a sigh intending to go forward. As he
did so a man came out of the stokers' dining room and started to go
below. Rush halted sharply.
"Hello, Smith," he said. "When did you come aboard the 'Richmond'?"
"When did you think I came aboard?"
"That's what I am asking you."
"Mebby I'm a fish and swam out," answered the stoker. Smith was the man
with whom Steve had had the trouble on the first disastrous cruise.
"I shouldn't be surprised. You are equal to most anything that's out of
the ordinary. Where were you last night?"
"Stoking from six to twelve--eight bells. But----" Smith checked
himself.
"So you came off at twelve, eh?"
"I did. But how's that your business?"
"Perhaps it may be my business. At least, I am going to make it my
business."
"See here, young feller, be you trying to pick a row with me?"
"No; one doesn't have to pick a quarrel with you. You're always
quarreling. If I wanted to have a fight with you all I should have to do
would be to look at you and the fight would be on. I'm looking at you
now, Smith."
The stoker uttered a half-suppressed growl of anger, started toward the
Iron Boy, then halted, opening and closing his fingers nervously.
"I'll--I'll----"
"Out with it. You will feel better after you have said it," urged Steve
in an encouraging voice.
"I'll break your blasted head for you----"
Smith made a jump for the Iron Boy.
Steve stepped lightly to one side, putting out his foot as the stoker
shot by him. Smith's head hit the edge of a hatch, then he sprawled
forward on the deck.
"So you're the fellow who gave me that blow in the dark last night, are
you?" demanded the lad in a stern voice.
"I--I'll kill you for this!" roared the stoker, raising a vengeful face
to the Iron Boy.
"You'll do it some dark night, then. You haven't the courage to face a
man in broad daylight and meet him man to man--no; I won't put it that
way, for you are no man. You're just a common tough, that's what you
are. Now get up and take your medicine, for you're going to get a
walloping that ought to last you longer than the hose bath did."
Smith sprang to his feet and rushed at his young antagonist. He did not
reach Steve, however. The fellow suddenly received a blow under the ear
that sent him spinning and tumbling over among the hatches that extended
above the deck some two feet at their highest point.
But Steve had not delivered the blow. He had not even raised his hands,
though he was standing in position ready to meet the charge of the tough
stoker.
"Get up, you hound!" roared Captain Simms.
It was he who had delivered the blow. He had emerged from the mess room
just in time to see the stoker's enraged face over Steve Rush's
shoulder. The captain understood instantly what Smith was about to do.
The skipper took two quick strides forward and his powerful fist smote
the other man a terrific blow.
The stoker leaped to his feet and went for the captain, now enraged
beyond all control. But he had reckoned without his man. The skipper
knocked the angry stoker down almost before the latter could raise his
fists.
"Never mind, Captain; I can take care of him," urged Steve.
"Stand back! This is my circus. What was he going to hit you for?"
"I was to blame. I goaded him into it. I----"
"Wait a minute. He hasn't got enough yet. He's coming for me."
The captain suspended conversation long enough to give Smith a right and
left swing on either side of the head that sent the fellow to the deck
with all the fight knocked out of him, and which put him out of business
for the next ten minutes.
Captain Simms turned calmly to Rush.
"Now, what was it you were saying, my lad?"
Rush could not repress a smile.
"Nothing very much. You know Smith and myself had some trouble on the
last cruise?"
"Yes, I remember."
"He never has gotten over being angry at me. He began saying
disagreeable things to me, and I suppose I helped the matter along by
tantalizing him. I was as much to blame as Smith was. But--but I'm sorry
you didn't let me give him what he was spoiling for."
"He got it, that's all that is necessary," growled the master. "See
here, Rush, he isn't the fellow who hit you last night, is he?" demanded
the captain suddenly, shooting a quick, suspicious glance into the face
of the Iron Boy.
"I didn't see who hit me," answered Steve, truthfully even if somewhat
evasively.
"Call the first mate!"
Rush did so.
"Put that man in irons and keep him on bread and water until he is ready
to go to work and mind his own business. I've half a notion to turn him
over to the authorities for mutiny," said the skipper reflectively.
"Don't you think he has had punishment enough, sir?" urged Steve.
"Yes, I suppose he has at that. Iron him, Major. It will do him good."
The stoker woke up just as the steel bracelets were being snapped on his
wrists. Protesting and threatening, he was dragged to the lazaret, where
he was destined to remain for the next twenty-four hours in solitary
confinement, with nothing more substantial to live on than bread and
water.