CHAPTER XIII

IN THE GRIP OF A GIANT SHELL

BEFORE Captain Simms would permit the lad to leave him, he had to hear the story of Steve's experiences. The story was frequently interrupted by grunts of approval on the part of the skipper. The latter was not an emotional man, as was evidenced by his greeting of Rush after the boy had, as it were, risen from the lake.

Rush's story finished, he asked the captain to tell him all about what had occurred after the accident.

"It isn't what did occur so much as what's going to happen," answered the master gloomily.

"What do you mean, sir?"

"I shall lose my license."

"What, and you not to blame? Impossible."

"Yes, but how am I going to prove that I am blameless?"

"The authorities will believe what you say, will they not?"

"They have just as good a right to believe the captain of the other boat. He will say it was my fault, and perhaps I shall say it was his fault, and there you are. Both of us will lose out in the end. The other skipper was saved and I am glad of it. It seems too bad that, after all these years on the lakes without a blemish on my record, I have to be knocked out at this time. My wife and little girl will be heart-broken."

"Perhaps it will not be so bad as you think, sir. Of course, we are all deeply grieved over the loss of life. That cannot now be helped. It is our business to find out where the blame is and fix it there, no matter whom it hits. I know one whom I am pretty sure it will not hit."

Captain Simms squinted at the lad.

"Who?"

"Yourself."

"Rush, you're a fine fellow. I like you," announced the skipper, with something approaching enthusiasm in his voice as he stepped forward and grasped the hands of his deck man in a grip of iron. Steve thought he had a pretty good grip himself, but his own was as nothing compared with that of the captain of the "Wanderer."

"I reported the accident from Detroit, and was ordered to proceed to destination if able. I haven't heard anything from headquarters yet. I shall hear something in the morning, as soon as our arrival here is reported."

"When do we unload?"

"They begin in about an hour."

"Then I must get into some old clothes and get ready for work."

"You need not go on duty to-night, unless you wish to."

"I prefer it. You see, I have been idle for a couple of days and I shall get out of practice," replied the boy, with a good-natured laugh.

"Idle! Humph! After swimming half way across Lake Huron, being drowned into the bargain, walking almost across the state of Michigan, going without food for twenty-four hours, not to speak of a few other little things--then to talk about being idle. Go back and tell the cook to set up the best on the ship. After you have had a good meal you may go to work, if you wish. I suppose you'll not be satisfied unless you do. Go on with you. Tell the first mate I want to see him."

An hour later found Steve in his working clothes. The cranes for unloading were just being moved into place when he reached the deck. These were huge affairs, each provided with a giant scoop that gulped a little mouthful of some fifty tons of ore every time its iron jaws were opened.

There was a rattle and a bang as the hatch covers were being ripped off and cast to the far side of the deck; men on the trestles were shouting, whistles were blowing in the harbor, gasoline launches conveying ship's officers to and from the other side of the inlet, were exhausting with vicious explosions. Steve thought he had never seen such confusion before, yet he knew full well that there was in reality no confusion about it. Everything was being worked out in keeping with a perfectly arranged system.

"Rush, you get down in the hold and take charge of the unloading," ordered the mate.

Steve hurried below. The hold was dimly lighted by an electric light at either end. He did not know exactly what he was expected to do. The great scoop dived down, swallowed a mouthful of ore and was out with it like some huge monster, almost before Rush realized what was going on.

"Whew! That's going some!" he exclaimed. "There comes the thing again. Hello, up there!" cried the boy, with hands to mouth. "Hadn't you better take out some from the other end so as to unload the boat evenly?"

"Yes, that's what we've got you down there for, to watch things," shouted a voice from the deck. "You're all right. Keep it up!"

"I don't know whether I am, or not," muttered the boy making his way over the ore to the stern of the hold. "This strikes me as being a dangerous sort of spot."

He watched the huge steel lips of the scoop as it felt about like the lips of a horse gathering the oats from its manger, quickly grabbing up its fifty tons of ore then leaping for the trestle some fifty feet above, where it dropped its burden into cars waiting to transfer the ore to the furnaces.

Load after load was scooped up. The rattle and the bang of the unloader was deafening. It made the Iron Boy's ears ache.

"According to the speed at which we are unloading, now, we should be finished in about four hours," he said. "This is the most wonderful mechanism I ever saw!"

There came a lull, during which the ship was moved further astern, in order that the unloader might pick up ore from the forward part of the hold. By the time this had been done, and the huge crane shifted to its new position, nearly an hour had been lost.

The boy pondered over this for some time. It seemed to him like an unnecessary loss of time.

"Why, so long as they have one crane at an unloading point, should they not have more?" he reflected. "This is worth looking into."

He thought he saw where a great improvement could be made, and he decided to think it over when he had more time. Perhaps he could suggest something to the officials that would be of use to them after all.

Steve and his companion, while working as ordinary seamen, were drawing the same fine salaries that they had received in the mines. Therefore the boys felt it was their duty to earn the money being paid to them by doing something worth while. They were getting three times as much as was paid to the other men doing similar work.

As Rush was thinking all these things over the lights in the hold suddenly went out, leaving the place in absolute darkness.

"Lights out!" he shouted.

A rush of air fanned his cheek. He raised a hand to brush away some object that seemed to be hovering over him. It was as if invisible hands were groping in the dark, feeling for the Iron Boy's face to caress it. Steve instinctively crouched down as low as he could on the ore. There was little of it beneath him, the greater part having been removed by the giant shell of the unloader.

Suddenly with a groan and many creakings the object whose presence he had dimly felt now closed over him.

"The unloader!" cried Steve. "It's caught me! It's caught me!"