CHAPTER IX
A NARROW ESCAPE
Though he was much interested in beginning on his long-cherished planof becoming a pilot, Nat did not lose sight of the fact that there wassome mystery concerning his father, in which the mate had a part. Hehad not given up his belief that Mr. Bumstead had Mr. Morton's wallet,in spite of the mate's denials. But Nat saw no way by which he couldget at the bottom of the matter.
"I guess I'll just have to wait until chance puts something in myway," he said to himself. "At the same time I've got to be on thewatch against him. I believe he, or some one of his cronies, pushedthat bale on me. I don't suppose it would have killed me if it hadfallen flat on me, instead of only partly, but it looks as if hewanted to drive me off of this ship. But I'll not go! I'll stay andsee what comes of it."
The freighter was on quite a long voyage this trip. After calling atthe last port on Lake Michigan it was to go through the Straits ofMackinaw into Lake Huron. There, Mr. Weatherby told Nat, it would notbe such easy navigation, as there were many islands, for which a pilothad to watch, day and night. Some were not indicated by lights, andonly a knowledge of the lake would enable the steersman to guide aship away from them, after dark, or during a fog.
"Do you think I'll ever be able to do it?" asked the boy.
"Some time, but I shouldn't attempt it right away," replied the pilotwith a smile.
Remembering the promise he had made to Nat, the pilot one day calledthe boy into the little house where the wheel was, and said:
"Now, Nat, I'm going to give you a chance to appreciate what it meansto steer a big vessel. I'll tell you just what to do, and I think youcan do it. We have a clear course ahead of us, the lake is calm, and Iguess you can handle the wheel all right. You know about the compass,so I don't have to tell you. Now take your place here, and grasp thespokes of the wheel lightly but firmly. Stand with your feet wellapart, and brace yourself, for sometimes there will come a big wavethat may shift the rudder and throw you off your balance."
The pilot-house of the _Jessie Drew_ was like the pilot-houses on mostother steamers. The front was mainly windows, and the center spacewas taken up with a big wheel, which served to shift the rudder fromside to side. So large was the wheel, in order to provide sufficientleverage, that part of it was down in a sort of pit, while thesteersman stood on a platform, which brought his head about on a levelwith the top spokes. On some of the lake steamers there was steamsteering gear, and of course a much smaller wheel was used, as itmerely served as a throttle to a steam-engine, which did all the hardwork.
Nat was delighted with his chance. With shining eyes he grasped thespokes, and gently revolved the wheel a short distance.
"That'll do," spoke Mr. Weatherby. "She's shifted enough."
Nat noticed that, as he turned the wheel, the vessel changed hercourse slightly, so readily did she answer the helm. It was awonderful thing, he thought, that he, a mere lad, could, by a slightmotion of his hands, cause a mighty ship to move about as he pleased.
"It's easier than I thought it was," he remarked to his friend thepilot.
"You think so now," answered Mr. Weatherby, "but wait until you haveto handle a boat in a storm. Then the waves bang the rudder about sothat the wheel whirls around, and almost lifts you off your feet. Morethan once it's gotten away from me, though, when there's a bad storm,I have some one to help me put her over and hold her steady. I likesteam steering gear best, for it's so easy, but it's likely to get outof order at a critical moment, and, before you can rig up the handgear, the boat has gone on the rocks."
"I hope we don't get wrecked on the rocks," said Nat, as, followingthe directions he had received, he shifted the wheel slightly to keepthe vessel on her proper course.
"Well, we'll be approaching a dangerous passage in a few hours,"replied the pilot. "There are a number of rocks in it, but I thinkI'll be able to get clear of 'em. I always have, but this time we'llarrive there after dark, and I like daylight best when I have to gothrough there."
"Do you want to take the wheel now?" asked the boy, as he saw that Mr.Weatherby was peering anxiously ahead.
"No, you may keep it a while longer. I just wanted to get sight of aspar buoy about here. There it is. When you come up this route youwant to get the red and black buoy in line with that point, and thengo to starboard two points, so."
As he spoke Mr. Weatherby helped Nat put the wheel over. The bigfreighter began slowly to turn, and soon was moving around a point ofland that jutted far out into the lake.
Nat remained in the pilot-house more than an hour, and, in that time,he learned many valuable points. At the suggestion of his friend hejotted them down in a note-book, so he might go over them again at hisleisure, and fix them firmly in his mind.
As the afternoon wore on, and dusk approached, a fog began to settleover the lake. Nat, who had been engaged with the work in the purser'soffice, had occasion to take a message to the pilot, and he found hisfriend anxiously looking out of the big windows in front of thepilot-house, while Andrew Simmon, the assistant, was handling the bigwheel.
"I don't like it, Andy; I don't like it a bit," Mr. Weatherby wassaying. "It's going to be a nasty, thick night, and just as we'rebeginning that risky passage. I've almost a notion to ask the captainto lay-to until morning. There's good holding ground here."
"Oh, I guess we can make it," replied Andrew confidently. "We've doneit before, in a fog."
"Yes, I know we have, but I always have a feeling of dread. Somehow,now, I feel unusually nervous about it."
"You aren't losing your nerve, are you?" the young helper asked hischief.
"No--but--well, I don't like it, that's all."
"Shall I ask the captain to anchor?"
"No, he's anxious to keep on. We'll try it, Andy, but we'll both stayin the pilot-house until we're well past the dangerous point, that onewhere the rocks stick out."
"But there's a lighthouse there, Mr. Weatherby."
"I know there is, but if this fog keeps on getting thicker, the lightwill do us very little good."
Nat listened anxiously to the conversation. This was a part of theresponsibilities of piloting that had not occurred to him. More thanon a captain, the safety of a vessel rests on a pilot, when one is incharge. And it is no small matter to feel that one can, by a slightshift of his hand, send a gallant craft to her destruction, or guideher to safety.
As night came on the fog grew thicker. Mr. Weatherby and his helperdid not leave the pilot-house, but had their meals sent to them.Captain Marshall was in frequent consultation with them, and the speedof the vessel was cut down almost one-half as they approached thedanger point.
From Mr. Dunn, Nat learned when they were in the unsafe passage, forthe purser had been over that route many times.
"We must be close to the point now," said Mr. Dunn, as he and Natstood at the rail, trying to peer through the fog. "We'll see thelighthouse soon. Yes, there it is," and he pointed to where a lightdimly flashed, amid the white curtain of dampness that wrapped thefreighter.
They could hear the lookout, stationed in the bow, call the positionof the light. The course was shifted, the great boat turning slowly.
Suddenly there was a frightened cry from the lookout.
"Rocks! Rocks ahead!" he yelled. "Port! Port your helm or we'll beupon 'em in another minute!"
The ship quivered as the great rudder was shifted to swing her about.Down in the engine-room there was a crash of gongs as the pilot gavethe signals to stop and reverse.
Would the ship be turned in time? Could her headway be checked? Hadthe lookout cried his warning quickly enough?
These questions were in every anxious heart aboard the _Jessie Drew_.A shudder seemed to run through the ship. Nat peered ahead, and heldhis breath, as if that would lighten the weight that was rushing uponthe dangerous rocks.
But skill and prompt action told. Slowly the freighter swept to oneside, and as at slackened speed she glided past the danger point, Natand Mr. Dunn, from their p
osition near the rail, could have tossed abiscuit on the rocks, so narrow was the space that separated the shipfrom them.
Boy Pilot of the Lakes; Or, Nat Morton's Perils Page 9
