CHAPTER XIII

CAUGHT IN THE LOCK

Ned, at the suggestion of the captain, put some salve on his wrist, for the cord had cut through the flesh. Then he had Bart bandage it up. This done the boys resumed their seats near the after rail, and talked about Ned's exciting catch.

"I hope you don't try such a thing again," remarked Mr. Ackerman, as he came back from his cabin. "It's a little too much for my nerves." He sank down in a deck chair, and the boys noticed that he was quite pale. He seemed unable to get his breath.

"Would you mind--would one of you mind, reaching in my pocket and getting a bottle of smelling salts that I carry," he asked. "I think if I took a sniff I'd feel better."

"I will," volunteered Fenn, for Mr. Ackerman's hands hung limply by his side, and he seemed incapable of helping himself.

"Is this it?" asked Fenn, as he reached in the upper right hand pocket of the invalid's vest and pulled out a small bottle.

"No--no," was the answer, half whispered. "That is my headache cure. I think it must be in the lower pocket."

Fenn replaced the headache cure and explored the lower right-hand vest pocket.

"Is this it?" he inquired, drawing up a small box.

"No, no--my dear young friend--those are my liver pills. Try again. I think it must be on the other side."

He still seemed too weak to raise his hands. Ned was about to call Captain Wiggs, but Fenn made another try.

"I have it!" he exclaimed, pulling out a shining metal tube.

"No--no," said the invalid faintly, opening his eyes and looking at what Fenn held up. "That's my asthma cure. Try the next pocket, please."

"Say, he'll kick the bucket if Fenn doesn't find that medicine pretty soon," whispered Frank. "Guess I'll help him."

Fenn began a search of the lower left-hand vest pocket. He brought up a bottle, containing a dark liquid. Wishing to make sure he had the right stuff, he smelled of it, before asking Mr. Ackerman to open his eyes and look at it.

"Is that it?" whispered Ned.

"Smells bad enough to be it," was Fenn's answer.

"No, no. You haven't got it yet," spoke the invalid, in peevish tones. "That is my heart remedy. I must kindly ask you to try again. I remember now, it's in my right-hand coat pocket."

Fenn replaced the heart cure and made one more attempt. This time he brought up a short, squatty, round bottle.

"That's it!" exclaimed the invalid joyfully, "Now, please hold it to my nose. Not too close."

However, he spoke too late, for Fenn had placed the open phial right under Mr. Ackerman's nose. The invalid gave one sniff, and then jumped from the chair as if he was shot.

"Wow! Ouch! Help!" he cried. "That's strong ammonia! I use it for hay fever. That's the wrong medicine! Oh! The back of my neck is coming off!"

He held his handkerchief to his face, the tears coming from his eyes because of the strong stuff.

"I remember now!" he managed to gasp. "I left my smelling salts in my stateroom. But I can get them now. I'm better--much better!"

"I believe he is," remarked Frank, when Mr. Ackerman had gone below. "Say, isn't he the limit, with his different kind of medicines?"

"You shouldn't make fun of him," spoke Bart.

"Whew!" suddenly exclaimed the captain's voice. "I guess my invalid passenger must have been around here," and he breathed in the ammonia-laden air.

"He seems to be quite sick," said Fenn.

"Sick?" repeated the commander. "Say, I wouldn't want him to hear me, but he's no more sick than I am. He's only got a touch of hypochondriacism."

"Will--will he die soon of it?" asked Fenn.

"Die? I wish I had his chance of living," went on the captain. "I guess you don't quite understand. Maybe that word was too much for you. A person who has hypochondriacism has a little stomach trouble, and the rest is only imaginary. That's what Mr. Ackerman has. Every once in a while he takes a trip with me, for the sake of his health, he says, but I think it's to get away from working. Say, did he ask you to reach in his pocket for some medicines for him?"

"Yes," replied Fenn, "and I had quite a time finding it."

"I should think you would. He's a regular walking drug store. If he'd throw all his powders, pills and liquids away, and live out of doors, he'd be all right in a month. I'm not making fun of him, but I wish somebody would, some day. Maybe it would cure him."

"He seemed pretty sick," ventured Bart.

"But he was lively enough when he smelled that ammonia I gave him by mistake," said Fenn.

"Ammonia?" questioned the commander, and the boys then told him what had happened. "Ha! Ho!" laughed Captain Wiggs. "That is the best joke yet! Ammonia! Oh my! I'll bet he was lively! Why, I can smell it yet!"

The little experience seemed to do Mr. Ackerman good, and it was several days before he complained again. Then he was seemingly as badly off as ever, taking some sort of medicine almost every hour. But the boys understood him now, and did not waste so much sympathy on him.

The _Modoc_ steamed on, covering many miles over Lake Huron until, towards evening one afternoon, Captain Wiggs announced that morning would find them at the entrance of St. Mary's river, the connecting link between Lakes Huron and Superior.

"Can you boys stand a little jarring?" he asked, as they were in the main cabin, after supper.

"Jarring? Why?" inquired Frank.

"Because we've got to jump the ship over St. Mary's falls, and we don't always make it the first time," was the answer, given with much gravity. "Often we miss and fall back, and it jars the ship up quite a bit."

"Oh, are we going through the 'Soo' canal?" asked Fenn eagerly, for he had been reading up about the Great Lakes, just before coming on the trip.

"That's the only way of getting around the falls," replied the captain. "I see you don't put much faith in my jumping story."

"We have to go through a lock, don't we?" Bart wanted to know.

"Yes," said Captain Wiggs, spreading a map out on the table, "we go through the canal, and lock, being raised up several feet, to the level of Lake Superior. If all goes well we'll be through the lock by noon to-morrow."

"Why do they call it the 'Soo' canal?" asked Ned.

"Because it is named after the falls," was the commander's reply. "The falls are called Sault Saint Marie, and that word which is spelled 'S-a-u-l-t' is pronounced as if it were spelled 'S-o-o.' It is a French word, and means a leap, or water-fall. So you see when you say 'Sault (Soo) Saint Marie' you are really saying 'St. Mary's Waterfall.' The canal, and the city located along it, both take the name of the falls."

The boys were up early the next morning to catch the first glimpse of the canal, lock and falls. It was some time before they reached them, however, and, when they did arrive at the canal, they found several vessels ahead of them, and had to wait their turn for entering the lock.

They had a fine view of the surrounding country and the falls of St. Mary's, spanned by a big railroad bridge. When they approached the lock, they saw that the canal was there divided by two walls of masonry making two locks and enclosing a space that was laid out like a little park, with grass plots and trees. Along the edges of the retaining walls, which were very wide, many persons were walking.

At last it was the turn of the _Modoc_ to enter the lock. She steamed slowly ahead, and an empty grain barge was also sent in at the same time, the lock being large enough for two vessels.

When the craft were in, the immense gates were closed behind them. The _Modoc_ and the grain barge were now shut up in something like a box of masonry, with water for a bottom, and the sky for a top. The boys watched the men open the water-gates that let in a flood of liquid that swept in from Lake Superior, through the long canal.

Slowly the two vessels began to rise. The water boiled and bubbled, churning into foam as it forced its way in. It seemed as though it was protesting at being made to hoist the ships, instead of being allowed to course on to the mighty ocean.

Up and up went the great craft, being lifted as easily by the powerful water, as though some giant hand had reached down from the sky and was elevating them. A few feet more and they would be able to steam out on the upper lever of the canal, and thence into Lake Superior.

Suddenly a rope, that held the grain barge from drifting too close to the forward gates, parted. The churning of the water sent the clumsy craft ahead, and, in a moment the bow was caught under one of the heavy beams of the gate. As the water was still lifting, the nose of the craft became depressed, while the stern rose. Then the barge swung over against the _Modoc_, and a projection on it caught against the latter craft.

The barge was now held down, bow and stern, while, from beneath, it was being lifted by an irresistible force of water. The barge careened to one side, and the _Modoc_ began to heel over.

"Shut off the water!" cried Captain Wiggs, who saw the danger. "Shut her off, quick, or we'll be stove in!"