“i don’t suppose the food will be very good,” confided phil to his brother, as they removed the traces of the exciting morning, in their cabin.
“no, according to the sea stories i’ve read it won’t,” returned ted. “just salt pork, hard tack, and weak coffee, i expect.”
“then you are due for a surprise,” exclaimed a hearty voice, and, turning, the boys beheld the captain. at the thought that their uncomplimentary remarks had been overheard, the boys grew crimson. but the skipper prevented any attempt at apology by saying: “i hope some time some one will write a story and tell the honest truth about the food we sailors have on the great lakes. maybe it’s pork and hard tack on salt water—and from some of their sailors i’ve seen that’s plenty good enough for them—but if we don’t set better meals than nine out of ten of our men have at home, then i don’t know a buoy from a light-house.”
deeming it best to say nothing, the boys quickly finished their ablutions and accompanied the skipper aft to the dining-cabin.
on the port side the boys beheld the crew seated at tables covered with white oil cloth. each table was provided with a big portion of corned beef and cabbage, fish, potatoes, squash, peas, pies, bread, and cake, while from the coffee-pots there came the savoury aroma of good coffee.
“see any hard tack?” smiled the captain.
“it looks bully,” exclaimed phil. “where do we sit, anywhere?”
“you’ll eat at the officers’ table;” and the captain quickly led the way into a dining-room seemingly perfect in its appointments and handsomely furnished.
the officers were seated according to their rank, the navigating force on one side and the engine room, including the oilers, on the other, but as the men who were eating were the ones going on watch, there was plenty of room for the young homesteaders.
the boy in the white coat and apron, who had rung the bell, waited upon the table, serving soup and a dinner much the same as that of the crew, save that there was roast lamb as well as corned beef and cabbage, a greater variety of cake, and a pudding in addition to the pies.
well cooked and appetizing, the meal would have been good in any event, but with appetites sharpened by the bracing air, it tasted delicious to the boys, and the skipper smiled as they took second helpings.
as rapidly as the men finished, they withdrew, going to their stations to relieve the men on duty, for until the second watch came on, the first watch were obliged to remain at their posts.
“now what do you think?” asked captain perkins, as they passed out on deck.
“that the men who wrote those stories didn’t know what they were writing about or had never sailed on an ore carrier,” responded ted.
“and the grub is just as good on the other boats,” asserted the skipper. “of course, some lines feed better than others, but it’s all wholesome and well cooked.”
during the afternoon the boys amused themselves with the binoculars, studying the ships they passed and watching people on shore when they could find any.
toward dusk they noticed a pall of smoke off the port bow.
“must be a big fire,” commented phil.
“it can’t be a prairie fire, can it?” eagerly asked his brother, who, like most new englanders, considered everything west of the hudson river prairie.
“that’s cleveland,” smiled the captain. “take the glasses and perhaps you can make out the tall buildings.” but the smoky haze was too dense.
at sundown the ship’s pennant and the stars and stripes were hauled down, after which the big electric masthead lights were switched on, and then the red and green running lights, for starboard and port respectively.
with the setting of the sun a brisk breeze sprang up, whipping the water into cat’s paws, as white caps are called on the lakes, and the huge carrier began to pound, owing to its emptiness.
“i should think she’d break in two,” exclaimed ted, the rising and resounding fall of the bow seeming, to his inexperience, a serious matter.
“go aft and you’ll scarcely notice any motion,” explained the first mate.
the boys, however, preferred to stay in the pilot house, where the wheelsman allowed them to take turns in holding the vessel on her course, whenever the mate was absent.
“where are we now?” asked ted, as the boys came on deck early the next morning and discovered they were passing through a seeming water lane, flanked on both sides by planking which topped the water by some two feet.
“going up the channel into the maumee river,” answered a watchman, for the captain and his mate were on the bridge, occasionally calling sharp orders to the wheelsman in the pilot house below. “we’re in toledo harbour, now.”
too afraid they would miss something of interest, phil and ted barely touched their breakfast, despite its tempting fruit, flapjacks, and steak, and soon they were on deck again, watching the monster draws in the bridges swing open in answer to the carrier’s signals, and the ever-changing shore line of the city.
“look at those funny old scows, with little dinky engines and long spouts, skimming along! what on earth are they?” exclaimed phil, pointing to a score or more of such craft that were scurrying, crablike, down the river.
“those are sand-suckers,” explained the mate. “when they get to their positions they drop those spouts into the sand and then suck it into the boats; the water runs out and the sand is left in the scow.”
a terrific screech on the admiral’s whistle called their attention to one of the suckers that had crossed her bow so near that only a sharp throwing over of the wheel prevented a collision.
roundly captain perkins berated the man in the pilot house, but a grin was his only answer.
approach to the dock quickly diverted the skipper, however, as he called orders to his wheelsman that brought the six-hundred-foot carrier alongside as easily as though she had been no more than a launch.
lake carriers are met by no linesmen to help them on the docks, or throw their hawsers over the spilings, and as the boat swung alongside the heavy timbers, members of the crew sprang to the wharf. to them the lines were thrown, and in an incredibly short time the admiral was fast, bow and stern.
towering above the dock was a structure resembling a huge skeleton elevator shaft, along the top of which extended an iron shield that drew together from both sides in an enormous shute.
back of the dock was a labyrinth of tracks and switches, upon some of which stood strings of loaded coal cars, and even as the admiral made fast, a switch engine began to puff and snort, jerking a line of cars onto the track that ran between the uprights of the elevator-like structure.
directly behind the tracks rose a sand bank, along the top of which an occasional trolley car passed.
the boat docked, captain perkins ordered the discredited oiler brought to him.
“i’m going to take you up town, swanson, and i warn you not to make any trouble,” said he, tapping his side pocket, which bulged suggestively. “mr. adams, pass the word to the men off watch that there is to be no shore leave. come, swanson!” and the skipper stepped onto the dock, apparently unmindful that he had turned his back on his prisoner.
the members of the crew, however, watched the oiler closely, and as he did not start instantly, the first mate snapped significantly:
“didn’t you hear?”
apparently swanson had heard, for he stepped onto the dock and disappeared from sight, walking beside the burly ship-master.
“nerviest man i ever saw, the skipper,” exclaimed mr. adams, his admiration of his superior evident in his voice. “there isn’t another man on the lakes who would take swanson, unshackled and without a police guard, up town.”
“then you think captain perkins is in danger?” inquired phil.
“danger?” repeated the first mate; “just look at that hill!” and he nodded toward the sand bank which, though nothing but a bare hillside when phil and ted had first noticed it, was now swarming with men and boys.
“who are they? where did they come from?” asked both young passengers at once.
“strikers!” exclaimed the second mate.
“more likely sympathizers; the strikers are pretty orderly,” returned mr. adams. “if swanson should call on them for help, they’d attack.”
“quick, get behind the cabin!” he shouted excitedly, interrupting himself.
without waiting to ask the reason, the boys obeyed, and with them went all of the crew near at hand. scarcely had they gained the protection of the deck houses than there was a patter like hail on the iron deck.
“stones,” said mr. adams, simply.
“they do hate to see a boat take on cargo,” asserted hansen. “wonder where our guards are?”
the guards themselves answered the question, for barely had the shower of stones ceased than the four men whom phil and ted had noticed when they boarded the admiral sprang from the cabin, revolvers in hand, rushed across the deck, leaped to the dock, and, joined by similarly armed guards who appeared from among the freight cars, charged up the bank.
not long did the crowd linger on the hill when they saw the guards, and as the men and boys scattered in all directions, an automobile dashed up from which six policemen jumped out and began to patrol the top of the sand bank.
ever since the admiral had docked, men had been working about the elevator and in the adjoining engine room.
“all ready?” called one of them to the mate.
recalled to his business, mr. adams looked along the deck. every hatch cover was in place.
“lively, open those hatches, hansen,” he snapped; then, raising his voice, he answered, “all ready.”
there was the whir of drums winding up steel cables, then a snort from the engine as they tightened.
“look! look!” cried ted, grabbing his brother’s arm, “a coal car is going up on the elevator.”
interestedly the boys watched as the big steel car, heaped with coal, slowly ascended; then a rattle on deck called their attention, and they turned just in time to see the hatch covers roll back from the hatches, operated by a series of rods to which electricity supplied the power.
as the covers were removed, the men on top of the coal elevator moved the mouth of the shute by levers until it was over the central hatch.
by this time the car had reached the top of the elevator.
“all ready?” shouted one of the men on top.
“let her go,” returned the first mate, having gone to the middle hatch and squinted at the mouth of the shute, thirty feet above him.
there sounded the click of more levers, again the whir of the drums, followed by the snort of the engine, and the boys beheld one side of the car tip forward as the rear of the elevator platform rose, then the coal thundered against the shield, rattled into the shute, and, amid a cloud of black dust, shot through the hatch into the hold with a roar.
“why, the coal car is on its side,” cried ted, looking at the elevator. “it’s been turned up until it’s empty.”
even as the boy spoke, there came the click of levers again, the platform dropped back, righting the car, which in due course was lowered to the ground, where it was backed off by another car that was, in turn, raised and dumped.
“some class to loading coal by the carful, what?” asked mr. adams, noting the boys’ amazement.
“it’s wonderful,” replied phil. “how long will it take to fill the hold?”
“about three hours, if everything works well.” as one compartment was filled, the boat was shifted back or forth for the shute to be over one of the various hatches.
when about half the cargo had been taken aboard, however, the loading was stopped by a lack of coal and the boys had retired before work was resumed.
