_The Queen's Last Trip_
When Helen left the close confines of the telephone booth after
completing her call to the Associated Press she suddenly felt very weak
and tired.
"What's the matter?" Tom asked.
"I feel just a little faint," confessed Helen. "Guess the excitement of
getting the story and sending it in was a little too much."
"Take my arm," her brother commanded. "We'll go back to the restaurant
and get a glass of milk and a sandwich and you'll feel all right in a few
minutes."
The food restored Helen's strength and in less than half an hour she was
her old self, ready to enjoy the Fourth of July celebration.
Every boat from Rolfe increased the size of the crowd at Sandy Point. The
speedboats dashed down the lake carrying their capacity of passengers,
turned and sped back to the town for another load. The _Queen_ sedately
churned its way through the lake, its double decks jammed with humanity.
As they stood on the beach Helen wondered if the old lake boat would come
through the day without a mishap. Almost any small accident could throw
the passengers into a panic and the capsizing of the _Queen_ might follow
if they rushed to one side of the flat-bottomed old craft.
The _Queen_ sidled up to the big pier at Sandy Beach and Capt. Billy
Tucker stuck his white head out of a window in the pilot house and
watched his passengers rush for the beach.
"He's in his glory on a day like this," Tom said, "but it's probably the
last year for the _Queen_. The boat inspectors won't dare pass the old
tub next year no matter how much they like Captain Billy."
"What will he do if they don't license the _Queen_?" asked Margaret.
"Oh, he'll get along all right," said Tom. "Captain Billy has plenty
salted away. It's just that he loves the lake and the _Queen_."
The planes of the air circus were wheeling overhead and they left the
beach and started for the air field. The attractions along the midway
were gathering their share of the crowd and the mechanical band on the
merry-go-round blared with great gusto. The ferris wheel was swinging
cars loaded with celebrators into the tree-tops and the whip and other
thrill rides were crowded.
Beyond the midway was the large pasture which had been turned into a
landing field. A sturdy wire fence had been thrown across the side toward
the summer resort and it was necessary to have a pass or ticket to get
through the gate.
Two small stunt planes were taking off when the members of the _Herald_
staff arrived and the three large cabin planes were being filled with
passengers. Two of the planes carried eight passengers apiece while the
largest, a tri-motor, could accommodate 12. They were sturdy, comfortable
looking craft and Helen noticed that they appeared to be in the best
possible condition.
They presented their passes at the gate and were admitted to the field.
"Speed" Rand, hurrying along toward the largest plane, caught sight of
them.
"Want to ride?" he called.
The answer was unanimous and affirmative.
A minute later they were seated in the 12-passenger plane in comfortable
wicker chairs. The door was closed, the motors roared, they bumped over
the pasture and then floated away on magic wings.
The ground dropped away from them; the resort and the lake were
miniatures bordered by the rich, green lands of the valley and at the far
end of the lake, Rolfe, a handful of houses, basked.
It was glorious, thrilling, and Helen enjoyed every minute. They swung
over the lake where the speedboats were cutting white swaths through the
water. They did not cross to the east side and Helen guessed that the
pilots were afraid some passenger with unusually keen eyes might detect
the remains of the plane Rand had damaged that morning.
Then the trip was over. They drifted down to the field, the motor idling
as they lost altitude. Helen sat absolutely rigid for a few seconds,
wondering if the plane would land all right. The motors roared again, the
nose came up and they settled to earth with little more than a bump.
Rand greeted them when they stepped out of the plane.
"Like it?" he inquired.
"You bet," said Tom enthusiastically. "Biggest thrill I ever had."
"How about you?" Rand asked Helen.
"I loved every minute until we started to come down," she smiled. "Then I
wondered where we were going to stop and how, but everything came out all
right and I really did enjoy it."
"Get your story in to the A.P.?" asked the flyer.
"Just as soon as I could reach a telephone," Helen replied. "The bureau
chief appeared pleased."
"He should be," chuckled Rand. "It seems like every place I've gone for
the last month there's been a reporter waiting to ask me questions about
my world flight. Honestly, it got so I used to look under the bed at
night for fear I might talk in my sleep and wake up in the morning to
find a reporter had been hidden in my room."
Another flyer called Rand and the famous aviator slipped away through the
crowd. It was the last they were to see of him and they turned and went
back to the attractions of the midway.
They tried every ride, the merry-go-round and the ferris wheel, roller
skated, went bathing, listened to the band concert, munched hot dogs at
irregular intervals and wound up the afternoon almost exhausted and ready
to start for home. So were some other hundreds of people and they found
it impossible to get a place in one of the speedboats.
The _Queen_ puffed majestically at her pier and Capt. Billy Tucker pulled
twice on the whistle cord. Two long, mellow blasts echoed over the lake.
The _Queen_ would leave for Rolfe in five minutes.
"Looks like we'll have to take the _Queen_ if we want to get home in any
reasonable time," said Margaret.
Tom looked at the throngs waiting for the boats.
"You're right," he agreed. "We won't be able to get on one of the fast
boats for at least two hours and I'm getting hungry. I saw mother putting
some pie away in the ice box last night and there'll be plenty of cold
milk at home."
"Don't," protested Helen, "I'm so hungry now I'm hollow."
"Then let's take the _Queen_," urged Margaret.
They bought their tickets and hurried onto the main deck of the old lake
boat.
"It will be cooler on top," said Helen and they went up the broad stairs
to the upper deck. Perched on this deck was the pilot house where Captain
Billy ruled.
He saw them and motioned them to join him.
"Have a big celebration?" he asked when they entered the pilot house.
"Finest ever," said Margaret, "but we're ready to call it a day and start
home."
"Better set down on those benches," said Captain Billy, motioning toward
the leather-cushioned lockers which lined the walls of the pilot house.
The veteran lake skipper leaned out of the pilot house, watching the
crowd on the beach. The electric lights flashed on as twilight draped its
purple mantle over the lake and the whole scene was subdued. The cries
from the bathers were not as sharp, the music from the midway seemed to
have lost some of its sharpness and the whole crowd of holiday
celebrators relaxed with the coming of night.
Captain Billy glanced at his watch.
"Two minutes," he said, half to himself as he reached for the whistle
cord. Again the mellow whistle of the _Queen_ rang out and belated
excursionists hastened aboard.
The ticket seller at the pier head sounded his final warning bell, and
there was the last minute rush across the stubby gang plank. Captain
Billy signalled the engine room, bells rang in the depths of the boat and
the easy chouf-chouf of the twin stacks deepened as the engines took up
their work and the _Queen_ backed slowly away from the pier.
Two men who had tarried at the midway too long ran down the pier and
yelled at Captain Billy. The skipper picked up his megaphone.
"Sorry, too late," he shouted. "We'll be back in two hours."
"Gosh-dinged idiots," he grumbled to himself. "Here I wait as long as I
can and then they expect me to put back in shore. Not me, by Joe, when
I've got to make connections with one of them excursion trains."
"Have lots of business today?" asked Tom.
"Biggest day in the twenty odd years I've had the _Queen_ on the lake,"
he chuckled. "The old girl is about on her last legs but this season
looks like the best of all. If the paved road goes through they'll all
come in cars and the railroad and the _Queen_ will be out of luck."
"But you're not objecting to the paved road, are you?" asked Helen.
"Course not," he replied. "It's progress and you can't stop it."
The _Queen_, ablaze with lights, churned steadily up the lake and the
electrics along the beach at Sandy Point faded into a string of dots.
Speed boats, showing their red and green riding lights, raced past in
smothers of foam but the _Queen_ rocked only slightly as they passed and
continued steadily on her way.
The band on the after part of the top deck played slower, softer melodies
and the whole scene was one of calm and quiet, a fitting end for a great
celebration.
Of all the people on the _Queen_, only Captain Billy in the pilot house
and the crew in the black depths of the engine room were alive to the
dangers of the night. They knew how anything unusual and startling might
cause a panic which would capsize the _Queen_ or how careless navigation
on the part of Captain Billy might shove the _Queen_ onto one of the
jagged ledges of rock which were hazards to navigation in certain parts
of the lake. But the _Queen_ passed safely through the rock-strewn
sections of the lake and Captain Billy relaxed as the lights of Rolfe
came into view.
The _Queen_ was less than half a mile from her pier when the unexpected
happened. A speed boat, without lights, loomed out of the night.
Screams echoed from the lower deck. Before Captain Billy could twirl his
wheel and shift the blunt nose of the _Queen_, the speed boat knifed into
the bow of the old steamer.
There was the crash of splintering wood, and muffled cries from the men
and women in the smaller boat.
Captain Billy knew the danger even before the boats met. The crash of the
collision was still in their ears when he called to Tom.
"Take the wheel," he cried, "and keep the _Queen_ headed for the beach.
Don't change the course."
Then he leaned over the speaking tube to the engine room.
"Captain Billy speaking," he shouted. "A speed boat just hit us. Full
speed ahead until we ground on the sandy beach."
They could feel the _Queen_ trembling as the crowd on the lower deck
rushed forward toward the scene of the accident.
"The fools, the fools," muttered Captain Billy as he ran from the pilot
house.
The leader of the band ran forward.
"Get back and play," ordered the captain. "Play anything loud."
A deck hand, racing up from below, met Captain Billy at the head of the
stairs.
"They knocked a hole clear through us," he gasped. "We're taking water
fast."
"Shut up," snapped the captain. "Stay here and don't let anyone off the
upper deck."
The young people in the pilot house saw Captain Billy rush down the
stairs and they looked at one another in open amazement.
"He's every inch a skipper," said Tom as he clung to the wheel of the
_Queen_.
"I hope he pulls us through," said Margaret, staring at the lights of
Rolfe. A minute ago they had seemed so close; now they were so far away,
the longest half mile any of them would ever know.
"He'll get us there if it is humanly possible," Helen said hopefully.
The crowd on the upper deck milled excitedly but the deck hand forced
them back from the stairway and the steady playing of the band and
continued forward movement of the _Queen_ seemed to allay their worst
fears.
Sparks rolled from the twin funnels as the engines labored to the utmost
but Tom, his hands on the sensitive wheel, knew that the speed was
decreasing. The _Queen_ was harder to handle, the bow was settling lower
in the water but less than a quarter of a mile remained. He reached up
and pulled the whistle cord. Three short, sharp blasts shattered the
night. Three more and then three more. It was the signal for help but he
wondered how many would be in Rolfe to answer the call.
"How deep is the water from here in?" asked Helen.
"About twenty feet," replied her brother. "Better slip on those life
preservers and get ready to jump. We're taking water fast."
"There are several hundred in the lockers here," said Helen. "I'm going
to pass them out to the people on deck."
"It will only alarm them," said Tom.
"But they've got to have a chance if we go under," replied Helen and with
Margaret to help her, she hurled scores of life preservers out of the
pilot house onto the deck.
The passengers had lost their first panic. They knew the _Queen_ was
making a valiant fight to reach shore but the tenseness, the grimness of
the crew told them it was going to be close. In the emergency they used
their heads and put on the life preservers as fast as Helen and Margaret
could pull them from the lockers.
The lights of Rolfe were agonizingly close. Less than six hundred feet
separated them from the safety of the sandy shore. On the upper deck the
passengers were quiet, ready for the crisis.
Tom leaned close to the speaking tube. The chief engineer was talking.
"What's he saying?" Helen demanded.
"Water's in the engine room," replied her brother. "The fires under the
boiler will be out in another minute or two. Then blewy!"
"Isn't there enough steam to make shore?" asked Margaret desperately, for
after her experience on the lake earlier in the summer she had a very
real fear of Dubar at night.
"All we can do is hope," replied Tom. "They'll keep the engines turning
over as long as there is any steam left."
The warning from the whistle was bringing people from town and they were
gathering under the electrics along the beach. Helen wondered if they
knew that death was riding on the bow of the _Queen_, that tragedy was
waiting to swoop down on the old boat and its load of excursionists.
The _Queen_ staggered, wabbled dangerously, and the wheel jerked out of
Tom's hands. He grabbed the spokes and held the bow steady as the _Queen_
stumbled ahead. They could see the faces of the people on the beach now,
saw the look of horror that spread over them as they saw the stove-in bow
of the _Queen_. There were only two hundred feet to go but they were
still in deep water.
The voice from the speaking tube rolled into the pilot house.
"Steam's gone!"
On the echo of the words the steady beat of the engines slowed and it was
only by clinging to the wheel with all of his strength that Tom held the
_Queen_ in to shore.
The bow was almost even with the water now. They seemed to be plowing
their way into the depths of the lake. Then the bow lifted and grated on
the sand. The momentum carried the _Queen_ forward, shivering and
protesting at every foot it was driven into the beach.
There was a wild scramble on the main deck, cries of relief and happiness
as passengers by the score jumped into the knee deep water and ran for
shore. The men, women and children on the upper deck hurried down the
stairs while through it all the band kept up its steady blare, the crash
of brass on brass and the constant thump, thump of the bass drum.
The danger past, Tom stepped back from the wheel. His arms felt as though
they had been almost pulled from their sockets, so great had been the
strain of holding the _Queen_ on its course.
Helen and Margaret stripped off their life preservers and went down to
the main deck with Tom. There they found Captain Billy and the crew of
the _Queen_ gathered at the bow of the boat. A great hole had been torn
in the old steamer's hull by the speed boat and Tom marveled that they
had been able to make shore.
"Why didn't we sink out in the lake?" he asked Captain Billy.
"Guess we might have," smiled the captain, "but we managed to hold the
speed boat in the hole it had made until we were most to shore. Otherwise
we'd have filled and gone down inside a couple of minutes after they hit
us."
A decidedly sheepish young man broke through the group and faced Captain
Billy.
"I'm the owner of the boat that hit you," he explained. "We were going to
see how close we could come and one of the girls in the boat tickled me
and I swung the wheel the wrong way."
"You almost swung about four hundred people into the lake," Captain Billy
reminded him tartly.
"I'm terribly sorry," replied the owner of the speed boat, "and I'm
decidedly grateful to you for fishing us out of it after we hit you. I'm
Maxfield Hooker of Cranston and I'll be glad to pay for all of the damage
to your boat."
"We'll talk about that later," said Captain Billy. "I've got to see that
those excursionists all make their trains."
"Did you get that?" said Tom as he nudged Helen. "Maxfield Hooker of
Cranston, son of the multi-millionaire soap manufacturer. Captain Billy
can have a new _Queen_ if he wants one."
"My guess is that he won't want one," said Helen. "After all, the _Queen_
has had a long and useful career and she certainly proved herself in the
emergency tonight."
Captain Billy made sure that all of the excursionists were safely off the
boat and that done, he came back to where Tom, Helen and Margaret were
standing.
"I've a great deal to be thankful for," he told them. "It was only
through the nerve and calmness of the crew and such as you three that the
_Queen_ pulled through. Tom, I'm eternally grateful to you for sticking
in the pilot house and to you girls for having the presence of mind to
pass out the life preservers."
Before they could reply Captain Billy turned and hastened up to the pilot
house. Tom started to follow but Helen stopped him.
"Don't go," she said. "He wants to say good-bye to the _Queen_."