ENTRAINED
“How much danger was there, Captain Perkins, of our sinking if we had
collided with the Prescott?” inquired Phil, when they met at dinner, all
hands, save the watch on duty, having refreshed themselves with sleep
after the terrible strain of the night.
“That’s hard to tell. Last summer two carriers, bound down with copper
ore, collided, and both sank so quickly not a single man jack of them
was able to save himself. Still, we should have stood a better chance
than the Prescott, because she’s full of ore.”
“But we carry thirteen thousand tons of coal, and thirteen thousand tons
is thirteen thousand tons,” interposed Ted.
“Raked that up again, eh?” smiled the captain. “You’re quite right, but
you must remember that soft coal is porous and has a certain amount of
buoyancy, enough, perhaps, to have kept our boat afloat until we could
patch her up or clear our cutters, but there’s nothing I know sinks
faster than crude copper ore.”
“Don’t you think the others could have—”
“Oh, let up, Ted!” exclaimed his brother. “We didn’t have any collision,
thanks to Captain Perkins, so let’s not suppose cases.”
“I was only going to ask how long it took to launch the cutters. I’d
like to know, and I’d also like to know what to do and how to do it at
such a time. If anything had happened last night, I should have had no
idea where to go.” Phil’s retort was prevented by the skipper.
“It’s always well to be prepared for emergencies, Ted. Mr. Adams, go to
the bridge and give the signal to ‘abandon ship.’ I should like to see
how quickly my crew can do the trick.” As the whistle shrieked the dread
signal, coal-passers, firemen, oilers, and deck hands alike looked at
one another in amazement, then dashed to the posts assigned them—some at
the boat falls, others whisking off the canvas covers, while still
others sprang into the boats to prevent the ropes from fouling as they
were lowered into the water.
Watch in hand, Captain Perkins stood on the bridge looking aft.
“Starboard cutter, two minutes, ten seconds,” he announced through his
megaphone. “Good work, boys!”
The other boats were in the water in less than four minutes, and the
skipper was delighted with the result of the test.
“We must have our drills more often after this, Mr. Adams,” he said;
then turning to Ted, he asked:
“Should you know what to do now?”
“Y-e-s, that is, I think so, if I knew which boat to go to.”
“If anything happens, which I hope there won’t, you boys make for the
starboard cutter as fast as your legs can carry you.”
The remaining days before they sighted the harbour of Duluth were
uneventful, the young homesteaders enjoying to the full the sensation of
being for so many hours out of sight of land.
It was morning when the carrier entered the Duluth breakwater, and the
boys gazed in wonder at the panorama. On the left was the port of
Superior, where a score of boats were receiving and discharging cargoes,
but it was the grain elevators of Duluth pouring their tons of wheat
into several vessels that claimed the greatest share of attention, and
Phil and Ted listened with interest to the statistics concerning the
stupendous amount of grain and iron ore, totalling millions of tons,
shipped annually from the “city at the head of the lakes.”
When the Admiral was finally docked, it was with real regret that Phil
and Ted bade goodbye to the mates, after thanking them for their
kindness and patience, and turned toward Captain Perkins.
“I’m going ashore with you,” he smiled. “My instructions from Mr. Atwood
were not to leave you until you were safely on board your train for the
West.”
Phil, because of his nineteen years, felt that such guardianship was not
only unnecessary but humiliating and he was on the point of rejecting
the skipper’s escort, when Ted quickly exclaimed:
“That will be bully. Not that we need a guardian—we’re old enough to
take care of ourselves—but it will be pleasant to have some one we know
with us. Can’t Mr. Adams go too?”
The boy’s words were so cordial that the skipper smiled at the token of
appreciation, while Phil was very glad that he had been prevented from
saying what he had intended.
“That was just what I wanted to suggest,” declared Captain Perkins.
“Come on, Harry; it’s Harry any time except on board ship, you know—we
must treat these boys right in Duluth. Some day we may want to beg
enough wheat from them to make a couple of barrels of flour, if things
keep on as they are going.”
“You shall have it and welcome, and all you want of it,” declared Phil,
glad of the opportunity to atone for his former rudeness.
“By Jove! Just think! Perhaps some day you’ll carry some of our wheat in
the Admiral!” exclaimed Ted. Then, turning to the vessel, he said,
whimsically: “Good-bye, old boat. If you ever carry any of my grain,
don’t you dare to sink with it.”
After a call at the bank, where the money needed for their railroad
tickets, berths, meals, and incidentals was drawn against their letter
of credit, the young homesteaders purchased their transportation. These
matters attended to, they had nothing else to occupy them until evening,
and glad, indeed, were they of the companionship of the captain and
mate.
Having, for reasons of economy, elected to travel in a “tourist car,”
which in reality differs from the more expensive sleeping-cars only in
finishings and furnishings, Phil and Ted, after bidding their friends
good-bye, set about arranging their luggage and making themselves
comfortable for the fifteen-hundred-mile journey.
Every section in the car was taken by people who, like themselves, were
going West to new homes or to visit friends, and from time to time the
boys stole glances at them.
“They look decent enough,” whispered Phil, in surprise.
“Why shouldn’t they?” demanded his brother. “Just because people choose
to travel in a tourist car to save a few dollars—and not so few at
that—is no reason why they are not decent. Right here is where I am
going to tell you something, and I don’t want you to get angry.”
“‘Out of the mouths of babes!’” began Phil.
“You can’t stop me.”
“Then why don’t you begin?”
“I’m afraid you won’t like it.”
“I expect to find a lot of things in the next few months that I won’t
like, so fire away.”
“It’s this. You’re a bit of a snob. Now don’t interrupt. You know as
well as I do that if I hadn’t prevented you, you would have given
Captain Perkins a snub when he said he was going ashore with us, and
after all his patience with and kindness to us.”
“What’s the use of throwing that at me?” snapped his brother, his face
crimsoning. “He isn’t with us now, is he?”
“No. But you were just as snobbish when you said these people in the car
were ‘decent.’ You know as well as I do that if we are going to succeed
at Chikau, or wherever we settle, you must get over it. The people out
in Washington are every bit as good as we are. You can’t judge a
Westerner by his clothes or his talk. A man may look like a tramp and
work in the fields with his men and yet be worth no end of money. Hustle
all the time, early and late, is the custom out there. And there’s no
taint to mixing with the help and working with your hands out West, as
there is in the East. Westerners take a man for what he is, not what his
family are, or ancestors were. Most of the successful men out there went
out penniless, like ourselves, and they have no use for snobs.”
“I didn’t know you’d been out West. Where did you get your information?”
sneered Phil, angry at the reproof, and all the more because, in his
heart, he realized it was merited.
“I knew you’d get mad, but I don’t care. Dr. Blair told me to talk to
you.”
At this statement the elder boy sat up straight.
“When?” he demanded.
“You know that letter I received at Detroit and wouldn’t show you? Well,
it was in that.”
Surprised and mortified by this information, Phil sat in silence,
subjecting himself to a searching self-examination. And neither boy
noticed a kindly old gentleman, seated across the aisle from them, who
nodded approvingly at Ted.
As the best all-round athlete in his school, Phil had been looked up to
and, in some cases, worshipped by his mates. Because he was young, this
had given him an undue appreciation of himself. But it was a shock to
him to learn that Dr. Blair had noticed the fact and that his manner of
superiority was so evident that the physician felt called upon to warn
him against it.
“Did Blair say anything else?” he asked, finally, of the brother who had
been covertly watching the effect of his verbal chastisement.
“Yes.”
“Then let’s hear it.”
“He said we must remember that we know absolutely nothing about farming,
or the life out West and that we would need all the friends we could
make. Then he quoted that line about having a thousand friends but never
a friend to spare, and said he wished me to tell you what he had
written, so that you would not spoil our chances of success, on Momsy’s
account.”
“Phew! Did he put it as strongly as that? Let me see the letter.”
“You wouldn’t like to read it. I—I’ve toned it down a bit, but I’ve
given the substance of it.” Phil, however, was insistent, and at last,
though with evident reluctance, his brother handed over the letter.
Twice and yet a third time the former baseball captain read the caustic
criticisms of himself.
“Was I really such a cad as Blair makes out, Ted?”
“Well, you were Parker’s star athlete, you know, and for that reason
people overlooked a lot of things,” temporized his brother.
“Wow! Then I guess I was. But I won’t be any more. Much obliged, son,
for opening my eyes. Let’s shake on it.”
“Not unless you stop ‘sonning’ me. That’s too condescending. It’s as
easy to say Ted as ‘son.’”
“All right, Ted. Shake. And now to prove that I’ve waked up to myself, I
am going to help that woman ahead, the one with the baby, open her
window.”