“Does he mean we’re to work our passage?” asked Frank. “I don’t know as I care to shovel coal, if that’s what he means.”
“I guess he was only joking about that part of it,” answered Fenn. “I’m going, if I have to scrub the decks. It will be sport.”
“That’s right,” chimed in Bart. “I don’t mind working my way for the sake of the trip. When can we go?”
“Let’s go down to the wharf and have a talk with him,” suggested Ned, and they all agreed this was a wise idea.
A little later they were in the large cabin of the Modoc, which, for a freight boat, was well fitted up.
Captain Wiggs repeated the invitation he had given to Fenn. The boys would be welcome to make the trip with him, he said, as long as their parents consented. They would need an outfit of clothing, with rough garments for stormy weather, which might be encountered.
“And we’ll do anything we can to help you run the boat,” added Bart, who felt that some return ought to be given for the captain’s generosity.
“Well,” replied the commander, in drawling tones, “I don’t expect too much. But if you could manage to keep the door mats clean it would be a great help.”
“Door mats – on a ship?” questioned Ned.
“Yes; of course,” replied the captain, with an assumption of dignity. “You see the salt spray gets all over the deck, and if it’s tramped into the cabins it makes the floors dirty. My steward is very particular about clean floors, and I thought that if you could help keep the mats clean, why it would make his work easier, and he wouldn’t grumble so much. However, if it’s too much trouble, why of course – ”
“Oh, we’ll do it,” hastily agreed Fenn, fearing that the trip might be called off. He did not quite know how to take the captain’s remarks, for the commander had not the least suspicion of a smile on his face. After all, thought Fenn, it might be necessary to clean the door mats, and he resolved to do his share of it.
“Well, now that that’s settled,” went on the commander, as if a load had been taken from his mind, “we’ll go into further details.”
He then explained to the boys what they would need in the way of clothing and baggage, and he briefly described the trip. The duration of it was a little uncertain as he could not tell how long he would have to wait at Duluth, after unloading, before he could get a cargo to bring back.
“I guess I’ll get you home safe in time to begin the fall term of school,” he said, “and that ought to answer.”
“It will,” declared Ned. “It’s mighty fine of you to ask us.”
“Oh, I guess you’ll be worth your salt,” commented Captain Wiggs. “Besides attending to the door mats, I may expect you to look after the scuttle-butt, now and again.”
Fenn wanted to ask what the scuttle-butt was, but as the steward came in just then, to get some orders, the boys decided it was time to leave.
They promised to be on hand the day set for sailing, and then, with their minds full of the happy prospect ahead of them, they went ashore.
The parents of the lads offered no objection to their making the cruise in company with Captain Wiggs, who was well known in Darewell. In due time valises and trunks were packed and the four chums, the envy of their less-fortunate school companions, strolled down to the wharf and boarded the Modoc.
The steamer was a large one, and had good accommodations for passengers, though she seldom carried any. This time, besides the boys, there was only one man, who was making the trip for his health. He was Burton Ackerman, who lived in a small town not far from Darewell.
They found that their staterooms, which were of good size, adjoined one another. They put away their belongings, and then went up on deck. The Modoc had cast off, and was slowly gathering speed as it dropped down the river toward Lake Erie.
“Don’t forget the scenery, boys!” called the captain, as he passed.
“We won’t,” answered Ned, with a laugh.
The boys had often made the trip to Lake Erie, and there was little of novelty for them in this. But, when the steamer had gotten well out on the big body of water, they crowded to the rails, for they had never been out so far as this before.
“It’s almost as good as an ocean voyage,” exclaimed Bart.
“What are you thinking of, Stumpy?” asked Frank, noticing that his short chum was rather quiet.
“I know,” declared Ned. “He’s wondering if he’ll see Ruth.”
“Oh, you – ” began the badgered one, when the attention of the boys was taken from tormenting their chum by several sharp blasts of the Modoc’s whistle. There was an answering screech and Frank suddenly exclaimed:
“Look there, boys!”
They all looked. On the port side, bearing right down on them, and coming at full speed, was an immense grain barge. It appeared to be unmanageable, for the whistle was frantically blowing, and a man in the pilot house was waving his hand.
“Toot! Toot! Toot! Toot!” screamed the whistle of the Modoc.
“She’s going to ram us!” cried Fenn. “We can’t get out of the way in time!”
There was a confused jangling of bells from the Modoc’s engine room, followed by more whistles, and then the steamer began to swing around. But still the grain barge came straight on. A collision seemed inevitable.
CHAPTER VII
AN ELEVATOR BLAZE
From somewhere Captain Wiggs reached the deck on the jump. He tore past the boys on the run, and fairly burst into the door of the pilot house, where the first mate was in charge.
“We’d better get ready to jump!” cried Frank. “It looks as if we were going to be cut in two.”
“Grab life preservers!” shouted Ned. “Here are some back here!”
He turned to lead the way to where, under an awning, some of the cork jackets were hung in racks. Before he could reach them a peculiar shiver seemed to run over the Modoc.
“She’s hit us!” yelled Bart. “Everybody jump!”
The boys made a rush for the rail, intending to trust to their swimming abilities rather than to chance remaining on the steamer after the grain barge had hit her.
But their plans were suddenly frustrated for, as they reached the rail, something that towered away above their heads loomed up, and the grain vessel came sliding along side of the Modoc, just as if the two craft were about to tie up together for loading purposes.
The grain barge only bumped gently against the side of the steamer. The shrill whistles ceased. The jangling bells were silent. By the narrowest of margins a bad collision had been avoided.
Out of the pilot house came Captain Wiggs, running along the rail until he came opposite the pilot house of the grain barge. Then, standing on a signal flag locker the commander addressing the man in charge of the vessel which had given them all such a scare, exclaimed:
“Say, what in the name of the Sacred Cow are you trying to do, anyhow? Don’t you know how to steer, you inconsiderate slab-sided specimen of an isosceles triangle!”
“Sure I know how to steer,” replied the man, who was as cool as the captain was excited. “I was steering boats when you was a baby. But I’d like to know how in the name of Billy Hochswatter’s mud-turtle any one can manage a boat when the steam steering gear breaks just as another vessel gets in front of me.”
“Oh, then that’s different,” replied Captain Wiggs, with an understanding of the difficulties of the situation.
“Yes,