FENN HEARS SOMETHING
"What's the matter? Can't Captain Wiggs stop the ship?" cried Fenn, for
it certainly looked as if the _Modoc_ was going to run, full tilt, into
the flames, which were right at the water's edge, as the elevator was on
the end of the wharf.
"Clang!"
The half speed bell sounded from the engine room. The steamer began to
slacken speed.
"Clang! Clang!"
Two gongs. Stop the engines. The _Modoc_ was going ahead under her own
momentum only. Then another signal.
Under the stern of the steamer the water boiled and bubbled as the great
screw was reversed, to check the vessel's way. The jingling bell,
following the signal to reverse, indicated to the engineer to back his
machinery at full speed, and the big craft fairly quivered, so great was
the strain of stopping her up short.
But they were master-hands aboard the _Modoc_ and she swung broadside
to a wharf as gently as a boy brings his toy boat to a stop. From the
deck men leaped to the string piece, with great ropes in their hands,
which they made fast to butts and piling. The steamer was tied up, so
close to the burning elevator that the boys could feel the heat of it.
"What are you going to do, captain?" asked Mr. Ackerman, who seemed to
have recovered from his nervousness, when he found the _Modoc_ was in no
danger.
"I'm going to help douse that fire!" cried the commander. "Lively with
that hose, men! Lively now! Snatch her quick and I'll give you all the
water you can handle!"
Several brawny deck-hands began pulling a line of hose over the side.
Other men were lowering a big boat, into which the men with the hose
jumped. The hose was unreeled after them as they pulled out on the lake,
in front of the burning elevator.
"I'm afraid it's a goner," remarked Captain Wiggs, as a gust of wind
sent the leaping flames licking along the surface of the water.
"How did it happen?"
"Whose place is it?"
"What are you going to do?"
Those were some of the questions which the boys asked Captain Wiggs. He
answered them all, comprehensively.
"It's an elevator in which the owners of the _Modoc_ are interested," he
said. "I was to call there to-morrow for a load of grain. I was heading
for the wharf, intending to tie up until morning, when I saw flames
shooting out of the top of the shaft. I've got a powerful pump aboard,
and I knew they didn't have any fire boat in town, so I speeded the
_Modoc_ as close as I could. I don't believe I can do much, but I'm
going to try. I'm afraid the fire has too much start."
"Can we go ashore and watch it?" asked Ned.
"I guess so. Don't go too near, and be careful you don't fall off the
pier. It's deep water all around."
Captain Wiggs hurried down to the engine room, for the men with the hose
in the boat were now as close as they dared to go to the fire, and could
use water.
"Come on, fellows!" cried Ned. "We don't often get a chance to see a big
fire like this."
They leaped to the wharf, since no gang plank had been run out, and were
soon hurrying along the pier to shore. The elevator was several slips or
piers distant, and the boys would have to go ashore to reach it. As
they ran on they could hear the big pump of the _Modoc_ beginning to
force water from the lake through the hose, the nozzle of which the men
in the row boat directed at the fire.
In the street along the water front the four chums found a great crowd.
Every one was hurrying to the blaze. Men were shouting, boys were
yelling, and even women and girls had hurriedly dressed to come out to
the conflagration.
"The whole block back of the elevator'll go, if they don't stop it
pretty soon!" yelled a man as he passed on the run.
"Here comes the water-tower!" shouted several.
"Look out there!"
"Clear the way!"
An insistent clanging of a fire gong to the accompaniment of barking
dogs told that some piece of apparatus was dashing along the street. The
boys felt some one from behind thrust them to one side.
"Look out!" a policeman shouted in their ears. "Do you want to be
killed?"
They shrank back, burying themselves in the crowd on either side of the
way, just as the water tower, with the plunging horses foam-flecked and
heaving, dashed by.
"They've sent for more engines from Frenchtown!" cried some one in the
throng.
"They'll need all they can get."
"The warehouse'll go next!"
"They'd better use dynamite!"
"This shows we ought to have a fire boat!"
"This department don't know how to handle a blaze like that!"
Remarks of this nature kept floating to the ears of the boys as they
hurried along, arm in arm, so they would not become separated in the
press that was on every side of them.
Above the din sounded a shrill whistle, and a fire-engine, spouting
sparks, with the stoker at the back, clinging to the rail with one hand,
and with the other throwing soft coal on the glowing mass under the
boiler, crammed his head out to see how much farther the panting horses
had to run.
The blazing elevator was hidden from sight of the boys by several
buildings that intervened, but by looking up they could see the lurid
sky, and the smoke-laden air, in which glowed dull red sparks, like
stars. Suddenly the crowd, of which the four chums formed a part, swung
around a corner. Then a terrible, but vivid scene was presented.
On the end of a big wharf, with the black lake as a background, was the
flaming structure. It stood out boldly, like a picture framed in ebony,
illuminating itself by leaping, licking tongues of yellow fire, that
seemed to tumble and toss--to twist and coil about like devouring
serpents.
Up shot the flames--far above the slanting, narrow roof of the elevator.
The windows shone out as though millions of candles had been placed in
them. Through some casements, darting spears of fire glanced, as if to
transfix anything in their path, not satisfied with what was within. The
piles of grain made a dense smoke, and the peculiar structure of the
building, like some immense chimney, gave a draught that seemed to doom
the elevator to complete destruction.
At the foot of the building could be seen a dark mass of firemen, moving
here and there. In spots it was illuminated by little spurts of flame,
where the engines were puffing like mad to send the quenching water on
the fiercely burning timbers.
"They'll never stop that fire!" shouted a man close to the chums. "The
roof'll cave in soon!"
"Why don't they use the stand pipes in the elevator?" asked another
man. "No engine they've got can throw water to the roof."
"The stand pipes are melted by now," was the answer. "They tried 'em,
but it got too hot. There she goes!"
The flames seemed to make one final leap, as if to reach a higher point
in the air than they had yet attained. There was a sound as though a
great gun had exploded and the roof, blown off by the heated air inside,
and by the gases generated from the burning grain, was scattered into a
thousand pieces.
Then, as if satisfied that it had accomplished what it set out to do,
the fire died down a little. The top stories of the elevator toppled in,
and the mass seemed to crumple up. Owing to the packed heaps of grain it
was burning slowly, now that most of the wood work was consumed.
"That's another blow to Hayward!" spoke a voice so close to Fenn's ear
that the boy started in spite of himself.
"Hush!" cautioned a man, who was beside the one who had first spoken,
"some one might hear you."
"No one knows what I'm talking about," was the answer. "I guess Hayward
will be willing to talk business now. He can't stand many such losses
as this, even if he does own most of Bayville. I understand he didn't
carry much insurance on this grain, as it was stored for quick movement.
Now, when I see him--"
The man stopped suddenly, for Fenn was looking right at him. Somehow the
youth knew instinctively that he was talking about the Mr. Hayward who
had been injured in the auto accident. What could it mean? Why was the
speaker glad that the westerner had suffered a loss in the elevator
fire? Fenn wanted to hear more.
But the man who had first spoken, said nothing further. He grasped his
companion by the arm, and nodded toward Fenn. The other boys were still
watching the fire, and were some distance away from Stumpy.
"Were you--" began the first speaker, looking at Fenn, when his companion
suddenly drew him back among the crowd.
"Stop! Stop!" Fenn heard him whisper. "I must get hold of him and--"
There was some mystery here. Fenn vaguely felt it, but he could not tell
what it was. There was a movement in the throng, and Fenn's chums were
pressed back to where he stood.
"Here comes some more engines!" was the cry.
Additional steamers, summoned from an adjoining city, rattled up. The
fire, which had died down, seemed to break out afresh, as the flames
seized on new material.
"I tell you I'm going to find out about him!"
This was the voice of the man who had spoken of Mr. Hayward. Fenn glanced
around. The fellow, who had a sinister face, was making his way toward
him.
"Maybe they're thieves or pickpockets," thought Fenn. "I guess we'd
better get out of here while we have the chance."
He leaned forward and grasped Bart by the arm.
"Come on!" he hoarsely whispered.
"What for?" inquired Bart. "The fire isn't half over."
"Come on," repeated Fenn earnestly. "I think Captain Wiggs may want us."
He was so insistent, and nodded in such a peculiar way that Bart realized
something unusual was in the wind. Pulling Ned and Frank close to him,
Fenn whispered:
"I think some pickpockets are trying to rob us. I've brought my money
with me. Let's get out of here."
The boys made a quick turn in the crowd, and worked their way to where
the press was not so thick. Fenn led the way, looking back to see if the
men were following.
They were. The man with the sinister face, and his companion, were
trailing close after the boys.
"Come on!" cried Fenn, suddenly breaking into a run.
But the men were not to be so easily left behind. They, too, quickened
their pace, and pursued the four chums, though what their motive was the
boys could only guess.