CHAPTER XVI

THROUGH THE ROCKY CUT

FOUR long and two short blasts roared from the whistle of the "Richmond."

It was the private signal of Captain Simms. The ship was bearing down on Port Huron and was at that moment at the mouth of the St. Clair River. The skipper stepped to the door of the pilot-house with megaphone in hand.

"This is where I live," he explained. "My wife always comes out to see me as we pass. See the light there, in that cottage on the river bank? Well, that's where I live when I'm not steamboating. There she comes."

Through the moonlight Steve saw a woman running down to the edge of the water.

"How are you, John?" called her pleasant voice through a megaphone.

"I'm well; how are the folks?"

"They're all well."

"Any news?"

"Nothing except that Betty has six pretty white chickens and she's terribly cross."

"Put her in the soup," suggested the captain.

Just then a little white-robed figure appeared at an upper window of the captain's home. In her hand the little one also held a megaphone. It was the captain's twelve-year-old daughter, Marie, the apple of his eye.

"H-e-l-l-o P-Pa-pa-a-a," came the greeting in a childish treble.

"Hello, Marie!" bellowed Bob Jarvis from the rail aft of the bridge.

"Who are you? I don't know your voice."

"I'm Bob Jarvis, but you don't know me."

"Hello, Bob. Yes, I do. My papa wrote to me about you. Where's Steve?"

There was a laugh that rippled from one end of the deck to the other.

"Never mind him; he is steering the ship. When are you coming out with us? Come along and we'll have a lot of fun."

"I don't know. When Papa says I may. When may I come, Papa? And you haven't said a word to me yet. You'll be gone in a minute."

"How could I? You haven't given me a chance to get a word in edgeways. Port your helm a little," he added, in a lower voice to Rush.

"Port a little," answered Steve.

"When, Papa?"

"Perhaps the next trip. I will send you a letter from down the line. Jennie, can you go back with us if I stop for you on the up trip?"

"I'll see. If I can do so I'll run up the red flag on the staff. If you see that you may stop. If not, you will know we can't get away that trip. I've got to attend to my early canning, you know."

Captain Simms grumbled something outside the megaphone, that sounded something like, "Shoot the canning!"

"Good-bye," came two voices, sounding faint and far away on the soft night air, one being a woman's voice, the other the thin, childish treble of a little girl.

"Head on that bright light low down there," directed the skipper, with a last lingering look back toward his home. "That's the worst of this business. A fellow gets about a five-minute look at his home and family, once a month or so. I'd rather be sitting on my front porch to-night than steering a ship through this rocky river."

"Is that a light-house that I am steering for?"

"No; that's an inspector's cabin. Starboard some."

"Starboard some," repeated the helmsman.

"All ships have to report as they go by. You will hear him call when we get abreast. Those fellows never seem to sleep."

"It must be a lonely life for a man out there."

"It is, and----"

"Ship ahoy. What ship is that?" bellowed the inspector through his megaphone.

"'Richmond' from Duluth with ore."

"The what?"

"'Richmond'!" roared Bob from the lower deck.

"I don't catch it."

"Six o'clock," howled Jarvis with his hands to his mouth, at which there was a loud laugh from the ship's company.

"Steamer 'Richmond,'" shouted the captain. "Why don't you open your ears? Think we can stand here yelling like wild Indians all night?"

The inspector did not answer. From past experience he realized the futility of an argument with a lake captain.

"This is the most dangerous navigating of any place on the lakes, Rush," said the skipper. "The bottom of our ship is only three feet from the bottom of the cut at this minute. Swerving six feet either to the right or left out of our course would put us hard and fast on the rocks. We should block the channel besides running the risk of breaking the ship's back. Steady!"

"Steady, sir."

"Remember, I am talking to the rudder. I keep that rudder in my mind every second of the time. I can see its every movement. I don't know there is such a thing as a steering wheel when I'm navigating like this. Port a little."

"Port a little, sir."

"Now head for that range light up on the hill there. This cut, known as Rock Cut, was built by the government at great expense. Hold your course as you are until you round the bend in the cut there, then head on a red light that you will see high up on the rocks. Get your funnel back there in range with the white light on the hill you see to the left. You will be exactly in the channel then. Keep in the middle. I have to go to my cabin for a moment. I think I can trust you. Remember, the channel is narrow and you must keep well within it."

"I will, sir."

Steve was left alone in the pilot-house. As he was steering by range guides alone, now, he did not have to watch the compass. All the windows of the pilot-house had been let down so that he had an unobstructed view all around.

"I'm running the ship," breathed the lad. "I don't know who's taking the biggest chance, myself or the captain."

Though the Iron Boy felt the responsibility of his position, he could not help the little thrill of triumph that ran through him. He was far up in the air with no one save the watch down in the forepeak near him. The night was bright and glorious, the most peaceful scene he had ever gazed upon. But Rush did not devote much thought to the peacefulness of his surroundings. His mind was too thoroughly centred on his work.

The "Richmond," sailed majestically around the bend in the cut, Steve glancing back over the decks to see that his funnel was coming in line with the range indicated by the captain. As Rush looked ahead through the open pilot-house window again his heart fairly leaped into his throat. Two eyes, one red the other green were blinking at him right in his path dead ahead.

"It's a ship!" he exclaimed. "I don't dare pass it here. I don't know whether there's room or not. What shall I do?"

The Iron Boy's quick mind solved the problem in a flash. Springing to the pilot-house telegraph he swung the indicator over to the words, "Half speed astern."

The ship began to tremble under the impact of the reversing propeller. Grasping the whistle lever Steve blew five short, sharp blasts, then taking his place at the wheel he calmly kept the vessel in her course, the other ship bearing down on him whistling as if the whistle lever had been wired down.

The reversing of the propeller had not been lost on Captain Simms. He knew instantly what it meant when he felt the trembling of the vessel. Then came the danger signal--five sharp blasts on the whistle.

The captain was out of his cabin on the run taking the stairway to the bridge three steps at a time. By this time Rush had thrown the telegraph indicator over to "full speed astern." He was watching the stern to see that it did not swing out of the channel, then turning to see what the vessel ahead of him was doing.

What had caused him to so suddenly reverse the propeller was not so much the narrowness of the channel, but rather a light that was placed well out from the shore line on his side. It was a white light, and, while he did not understand the meaning of it, he knew that it had been placed there as a warning to ships to keep well outside of it.

The other boat was coming to a stop also, but by the time Captain Simms reached the pilot-house the bows of the two ships were so close together that it seemed as though they might crash together. One swift, comprehensive glance told the captain everything. He noted that his vessel was reversing, that the pilot was keeping her in the channel and that the other ship was coming to a stop.

Without a word to Steve he grasped his megaphone and sprang to the window.

"Choke her down, you fools! Do you want to run us under?"

"Get out of the way yourself! Why didn't you blow your whistle? You saw that buoy there. You have seen it for the last half hour. You knew you ought to have given warning before you got into the cut here."

"What does that buoy mean?" demanded Captain Simms.

"A coal barge was sunk there this morning."

The two vessels met with a heavy bump that set everything rattling on board both ships, but the shock was not sufficiently severe to do any damage to either.

"Back up, you fellows, unless you want us to push you out!" commanded Captain Simms.

In the meantime, after the shock, Steve had stepped to the telegraph and swung the indicator to the word "Stop!"

The two captains hurled language at each other for the next two minutes, but the other skipper grew tired of it first. He gave the order to reverse propeller. The up-bound boat began to retreat slowly.

"Slow speed ahead," commanded Captain Simms.

The master was leaning from the pilot-house window, megaphone in hand, ready to roar at the other skipper at the first opportunity. But there was no good excuse for him to do so. After backing down stream sufficiently to make passing safe, Captain Simms gave his whistle lever a jerk, sounding one sharp blast, meaning that he would meet and pass the other vessel on its port side.

The "Richmond" slipped by at a little higher speed than was safe, her sides scraping the paint off the other boat in spots.

"I ought to report you, you lubber!" roared Captain Simms in passing. "You ain't fit to command a mud scow. I've got a kid on this boat who's a better captain, after half a cruise, than you'll be if you cruise all your life."

The captain jerked the telegraph indicator to "three-quarter speed ahead" with such violence that it threatened to tear the indicator chains from their hooks. Then he turned to Rush.

"Steve, much obliged," he said. "That's the second time you saved the ship. I owe you another one for that. Unless I am greatly mistaken, you'll be trotting around with a master's license in your inside pocket by the time you are twenty-one. Steady there."

"Steady, sir," answered the boy at the wheel.