Fenn Masterson's Discovery: or, The Darewell Chums on a Cruise

CHAPTER IX
OFF AGAIN

The boys soon found themselves mixed up in another part of the crowd, that had, apparently, come down a side street leading to the lake front. They had some trouble disengaging themselves from it, and, when they again had a fairly clear street to run through, they were some distance from the fire.

“Did we lose ’em?” asked Fenn, panting from the run.

“What? Who?” asked Frank, who did not exactly understand the cause for the sudden retreat.

“Those two – pickpockets,” replied Fenn, not knowing exactly how to classify the strange men.

“Here comes a couple of fellows on the run,” said Ned. “I guess they’re still after us. Let’s wait and ask what they want. They haven’t any right to follow us.”

“No, no!” urged Fenn. “Come on back to the steamer.”

He seemed so much in earnest that his chums did not stop to ask questions, but increased their speed. Just as they reached the wharf, at the end of which the Modoc was tied, another fire engine, hastening to the elevator blaze, dashed by.

There was a quick clanging of the gong, and a shrill screech from the whistle. It was instantly followed by a shout.

“The engine struck one of the men!” cried Frank, looking back. “He’s knocked down! Run over I guess! Come on back!”

The boys hesitated. They did not want to leave an injured man, even if he and his companion had been pursuing them. The street, at this point, was deserted, save for the two strangers. The engine did not stop, the horses being urged on by the driver, who did not want to have the reputation of arriving last at the conflagration.

“Come on back and help him,” urged Bart, who was always anxious to aid persons in distress, even if they were enemies.

The others hesitated. It was rather a risk, Fenn thought. But the problem was solved for them. The man who had been knocked down by the engine arose to his feet. Supporting himself on the shoulder of his companion he limped off up the street, and away from the boys.

“I guess he isn’t badly hurt,” remarked Ned. “He’ll not chase us any more. That engine came along just in time.”

“Except I guess it’s too late to help put out the fire,” said Frank. “There can’t be much left of the elevator.”

“But what did we run for?” asked Ned. “Who were those chaps, Fenn?”

Fenn explained what he had heard, and expressed the belief that the men had some business enmity against Mr. Hayward.

“They seemed delighted that the elevator, containing his grain, burned down; or at least the one man did,” he said. “Then, when they saw I was listening, though I didn’t really intend to, they acted as though they wanted to get hold of me, and see why I was so interested. I thought they might be pickpockets, but now I don’t believe they were.”

“We must tell Captain Wiggs about it,” suggested Frank.

“I don’t believe I will,” answered Fenn. “I don’t want him to laugh at me, and I think he surely will if I suggest that the men chased us. He’ll probably think we took two harmless citizens for burglars. No, I think the best plan will be to wait and see what turns up.”

“I’ll tell you what you can do,” spoke Ned.

“What?” inquired Fenn.

“You can ask Captain Wiggs who owned that grain in the burned elevator. He’ll know, as he was going to get a load there.”

“Good idea,” responded Fenn. “I will.”

The boys were soon aboard the ship again. They found that the men in the rowboat had returned, as the side of the elevator nearest the lake had all burned away, and their hose was no longer effective. The fire was under control now, but was still blazing well. Enough engines had arrived to prevent it spreading.

“Well, this knocks my plans all askew,” remarked the commander of the Modoc, when the boys came on deck. “I don’t know where to get my grain, now.”

“Did you say the same company that owned this steamer owned that grain?” asked Fenn, seeing a good chance to obtain the information he wanted.

“No, I said they owned the elevator,” replied the captain. “The grain is a separate matter. I don’t know whose that was. Whoever it belonged to won’t get much good from it.”

“Is there any way of telling who owned it?” asked Fenn, for he thought, even though the men had mentioned the name “Hayward,” that it might be some other man than the one injured in the auto accident – some one else than the father of Ruth.

“Why, I can tell by looking at my order slips,” replied Mr. Wiggs. “Why are you so interested?”

“I was wondering if it was any one I knew,” answered Fenn, a little evasively, as he did not want to explain what had happened.

“Um – let’s see,” and Captain Wiggs who, followed by the boys had gone to the main cabin, began thumbing over the pages of a small book he took from his pocket. “‘Proceed to’ – no, that’s not it – ‘take cargo’ – um – no, it must be on the next page – Oh, yes, here it is. ‘Get cargo of grain at Lakeville, from Robert Hayward Company.’ That’s it. The grain belonged to Robert Hayward – why – er – say, boys, that’s the name of the man who was hurt back there in Darewell – he and his daughter Ruth – you know him – why, Fenn, he was at your house!”

“So he was!” exclaimed Fenn, his knowledge thus unexpectedly confirmed.

“Quite a remarkable coincidence!” went on the Captain. “Very strange! Well, strange things are always happening. You didn’t hear what started the fire, did you?”

“I heard a policeman say it was spontaneous combustion,” said Frank, “but they always give that as a cause, when they can’t think of any other.”

“I don’t s’pose they’ll ever find out,” remarked the captain. “Well, I can’t do anything more. We’d better turn in, although it’s most morning. Soon as it gets daylight I’ll have to hustle around and find out what I’m going to do.”

Captain Wiggs was a very busy man the next day, sending messages to the steamer’s owners to ascertain their wishes. The boys visited the elevator, in which great piles of grain were still smouldering, in spite of the tons of water poured on them. Fenn kept a lookout for the mysterious men, but did not see anything of them.

Captain Wiggs had to remain tied up at Lakeville until he received orders to proceed to the next port for a cargo that would be awaiting him there. The boys spent the time on shore, visiting various scenes of interest.

“Well, we’re off again!” cried the commander, on the morning of the third day, as he came hurrying down the dock, waving a telegram in his hand. “Tying-up is no fun. You may get under way as soon as possible, Mr. Sidleton,” he added to the first mate.

Steam was up, and, in a short time the Modoc was again plowing the waters of Lake Erie. Gradually Lakeville was left behind, and soon they were out of sight of land.

“Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong! Ding-dong!”

A bell suddenly sounded, with queer double strokes.

“Eight bells!” exclaimed Captain Wiggs, as he arose from a deck chair where he had been sitting, to the boys. “Time for mess,” and he led the way toward the dining saloon.

As he was about to descend the companionway he looked over the rail. Astern of the Modoc was a small steam yacht, coming on at a swift speed.

“That’s queer,” murmured the captain.

“What is?” asked Fenn, for the boys were privileged characters.

“That yacht,” replied the commander. “She’s been following us all the morning; ever since we left Lakeville. I wonder what the game is? Steward, bring me the glass,” he called, and, when the binoculars were handed to him, the captain took a long look at the pursuing craft.

CHAPTER X
THE CHASE

For nearly a minute Captain Wiggs continued his observation of the on-coming boat. Then, laying aside the glass, he remarked:

“I can’t make anything out of her. It’s a strange boat. Never saw her on the lakes before. And they seem to have an uncommon interest in us. A couple of men on deck are taking turns in looking at us through a telescope.”

“Two men?” asked Fenn, beginning to get excited.

“There are two on deck, but of course there must be more somewhere aboard,” replied the captain.

“And has one of them a – a sort of mean looking face?” went on Fenn.

“Well, from what I can see of him through the glass, he doesn’t look to be a very cheerful chap.”

“I’ll wager it’s those men after us!” exclaimed Fenn, turning to his chums.

“What men?” inquired Captain Wiggs.

“The men who chased us when we were at the elevator fire,” and Fenn told of the adventure.

“I wish you had mentioned that to me before,” said the commander, looking grave. “This thing may be serious.”

“Why? Do you think they are thieves?” asked Bart.

“There’s no telling what they are,” and the captain took another observation at the steamer in the rear. “You know the lakes are part of the dividing line between the United States and Canada. Often criminals from both countries find it to their advantage to conduct some of their operations on the water, and there are any number of questionable characters plying on this lake. I can’t make out why those men should want you boys, or Fenn, more particularly, unless they think he may know something of their operations, and they want to stop him from talking.”

“Well, they can’t prevent me!” boasted Fenn.

“Don’t be too sure,” cautioned the captain. “Of course you have nothing to fear as long as you are with me, aboard the Modoc, but don’t run any chances while ashore. Meanwhile those fellows have got to catch us first. They’ve got nerve, I must say, pursuing us as if they were government officers and we were smugglers.”

“Do smugglers cross the lake?” asked Ned.

“They try to, and, sometimes they succeed. But I wish you boys would go down to dinner. I want to keep watch of this boat. When you finish, come up on deck, and you can stand guard, while I eat. We’ll keep tabs on her then, and we needn’t let any of the crew here know about it. It’s just as well to keep matters a little quiet until we find out what it all means.”

The boys did not linger long over their dinner, and were soon on deck again. They found Captain Wiggs gazing at the pursuing steam yacht through the glass.

“She’s coming on,” he said. “Seems to have plenty of speed, but I guess we can show her a little ourselves. I’ll give orders to the engineer to increase our rate some. Then we’ll see what happens. You keep watch, and let me know when I come back.”

He handed the binoculars to Fenn, and went below. The four chums took turns looking at the on-coming craft. Presently they noticed that their own steamer was making faster progress through the water.

“I guess we’ll leave ’em behind now,” observed Frank.

“Then you’ve got another guess coming,” responded Fenn. “They’ve put on more steam.”

The other boat seemed to spurt through the waves that were piled up in front of her sharp prow. She easily kept right after the Modoc, and even seemed to approach closer.

“I wonder what they’ll do when they catch up to us?” asked Bart.

“Wait until they catch us,” suggested Ned.

“Well, boys, how about it?” called Captain Wiggs, as he came on deck. “Have you polished up the anchor chain, as I asked you to. The regular polisher-boy is sick, and I’m short handed.”

“You didn’t tell us – ” began Fenn, when a smile on the face of the commander warned him that it was only a joke.

“How is our friend, the enemy?” inquired Captain Wiggs, reaching for the glass.

“Well, we haven’t lost her,” replied Frank.

“So I see,” observed the commander. “I think I’ll have to try a little trick.”

He went to the pilot house and soon the Modoc was sweeping away from her course in a long, graceful curve.

“There, now we’ll see if they are following us, or whether they are just on the same course by accident, and are using us for pace-makers,” remarked the captain, as he came back to where the boys were.

In less than a minute the course of the pursuing vessel was also changed, and on she came, after the Modoc, the black smoke pouring from her funnel, testifying to the fact that the engine room force was piling on the fuel to make more steam.

“She’s going to catch us or burst her boilers,” remarked the captain, with a grim smile. “Well, we’ll see. I made them show their hand. They evidently believe we’re bound for the Canadian shore, and they think they have us outside the protection of the United States now, and can do as they please.”

He hurried to the pilot house, and soon there were several signals of the engine room bells.

“We’ll see if we can’t get a few more knots out of her,” observed the commander as he came back, and took a hurried look at the yacht astern. “I guess the Modoc has some speed left in her yet, even if she is only a freighter.”

True, the big steamer did go faster, but so did the pursuing boat. The chase was leading straight toward Canada now.

“Can’t seem to shake ’em off,” murmured the captain, with a somewhat worried look on his face. “I’ve a good notion to lay-to, and see what they want.”

“I – I wouldn’t,” said Fenn.

“Why not?” asked the captain quickly. “You haven’t done anything wrong; have you?”

“No, but – ”

“Then I think I’ll just ask them the meaning of this unwarranted chase. They haven’t any right to keep after me like this, unless they’re a government vessel, and they’re not that or they would have shown their colors long ago. That’s what I’ll do. I’ll stop!”

He turned toward the pilot house to give the order. Fenn took up the binoculars, which the captain had laid down, and looked through them at the strange steam yacht. He could make out the two men on deck, one of them – he with the sinister face – staring at the little knot of boys, who seemed, so unaccountably, to have become involved in a mystery.

Following the ringing of the engine room bells, the Modoc’s speed began to slacken. Captain Wiggs came back to where the boys were and remarked.

“Now we’ll see what will happen.”

Hardly had he spoken than there sounded from the pursuing craft, which had not slackened speed, a shrill hissing. Then a white cloud appeared to hover over her.

“She’s broken a steam pipe!” cried the captain. “Too much pressure! I thought she couldn’t stand it!”

The strange craft was almost lost to sight in the cloud of white vapor that enveloped her, while, from the midst of it, came excited cries.

CHAPTER XI
ON LAKE HURON

“Somebody’s hurt!” cried Fenn.

“Shouldn’t wonder,” replied Captain Wiggs, coolly. “There generally is when an explosion occurs in a boiler room.”

“Aren’t we going to help them?” inquired Frank.

“I’ll give them any aid they need,” said the commander. “We’ll see how much the damage amounts to. I’ll steam back toward ’em.”

He gave the necessary orders, and soon the Modoc was slowly approaching the disabled craft. The clouds of steam had somewhat dispersed, but that something was wrong was evident from the manner in which men were hurrying about the deck of the recent pursuing yacht.

“I guess it wasn’t as bad as I thought,” remarked Mr. Wiggs. “They seem to have stopped the leak in the pipe. I hope none of the men are badly scalded. I’ll offer ’em help, and they can take it or leave it. They’ve made enough trouble for me as it is.”

But the strange craft evidently did not desire any aid, nor did the commanders of it seem to court any investigation of what had happened. As the Modoc approached the other boat’s whistle sounded, and then it slowly started off, like a lame dog running away from a fight with a superior antagonist.

“Had enough, eh?” remarked the captain. “I thought so. Well, I’m not sorry that I don’t have to get to close quarters with them. It looks as if it was coming on to blow, and it’s no joke to have to tow a disabled boat on Lake Erie in a storm.”

Seeing that his proffered offer of help was declined Captain Wiggs changed the course back to his original one. As the other craft turned about, and steamed slowly away, Fenn watched through the glass, and the last thing he could see was the man with the ugly face, standing at the stern, gazing at the Modoc through a telescope.

“He’ll know me next time, anyhow,” thought Fenn, as he joined his chums, who were talking of the strange finish of the chase.

Discuss the recent happenings as they did, from all sides, the boys could not get at the bottom of them. No more could Captain Wiggs. But he soon found he had other things to think about than the chase which had ended so abruptly, for the weather changed suddenly, and there were indications of a heavy storm.

“I’d like to make the Detroit River before the blow comes on hard,” he remarked. “I’ve got a pretty heavy load aboard, and the Modoc, while she’s a stanch craft, doesn’t behave as well in a sea as she might. I’ve lost considerable time through that elevator fire, and stopping on account of those men chasing us, so I must make it up.”

The steamer was sent ahead at full speed, but the storm developed faster than the captain had calculated so that, when still several miles from a good harbor, the wind suddenly swooped out of the west and soon there was a heavy sea running.

“Why, it’s almost like the ocean,” remarked Ned as, standing well forward, near the port rail, he looked across the lake and saw the big waves.

“You’ll think so, if this keeps up,” responded Captain Wiggs. “Lake Erie can kick up as pretty a storm as I ever want to see, and I’ve been through some hard ones, I can tell you. This is nothing to what it will be if the wind increases.”

And that the wind intended increasing was evident from the way it howled over the big expanse of water, which was dotted with white-caps. Through the waves the Modoc labored, her powerful engines and screw sending her ahead gallantly, though she rolled and pitched in a way to make the boys think they were on an ocean liner instead of a lake steamer.

It grew quite dark, partly because of the clouds that gathered, and because evening was approaching. Then the rain, which had held off for a while, came down with a suddenness that was almost like a cloud burst. Fortunately the boys, on the advice of the captain, had donned oil-skins, and they were protected, though sometimes it seemed as if the wind would drive the rain drops right through their garments.

“This is a terrible storm!” exclaimed Ned, as he held on to the rail and tried to peer ahead through the mist and blackness.

“Wait!” fairly shouted the captain. “You haven’t seen any more than the beginning.”

“That’s enough for me!” cried Fenn, as he made his way to the companionway and went below. The other boys followed, as the commander said it was hardly safe on deck. The Modoc was now laboring amid the big waves. The lookout, scanning the waste of waters for a sight of land, could see nothing but blackness ahead.

It did not seem quite so bad to the boys, after they were in the cabin, though they had to sit braced in chairs to avoid tumbling out when the vessel pitched and tossed, and it was quite a task to move about, for there was danger of bringing up against some piece of furniture, or the cabin partitions.

“An ocean voyage isn’t in it with this,” declared Ned. “It’s great!”

“It may be, but it makes me feel sick,” declared Fenn. “I’m going to lie down in my bunk.”

This he did, saying he felt better when stretched out. The other boys followed his example, as the pitching was a little too much for them. They soon grew accustomed to it, however, and presently they noticed that the motion seemed less violent.

“We must have come to anchor,” said Bart.

“More likely we’re inside some harbor,” declared Ned.

They went up on deck and found that, though it was still raining hard, the wind had died down a little, which made the boat ride easier.

“Where are we?” called Fenn, to Captain Wiggs, who was pacing the deck.

“Just entering the Detroit River,” was the reply. “We’ll tie up at Detroit for the night. How are you, boys?”

“Better now,” replied Ned.

As soon as the Modoc was well within the river the effects of the blow were no longer noticeable. In a short time the steamer was tied up at a dock and the boys turned in for the night.

Captain Wiggs had some business to transact in Detroit, and spent nearly all of the next day there, giving the boys a chance to go ashore and see some of the sights. They resumed their trip that evening, through Lake St. Clair, and proceeding without stop to Lake Huron.

Emerging well out upon this vast body of inland water, the boys, one bright morning, got a fine view of it.

“Isn’t it – isn’t it big!” exclaimed Fenn. “It’s – it’s simply – ”

“Help him out, Ned,” suggested Bart. “You ought to have some big adjectives on hand, left over from that last French history lesson. This is too much for Stumpy.”

“It certainly is a lot of water,” commented Frank. “I thought Lake Erie was big, but this seems to beat it.”

The boys stood at the rail, absorbed in the contemplation of the beautiful scene before them. Captain Wiggs too, though he had viewed the lake many times, could not but admire the beauty of it as it sparkled in the morning sun.

One of the men from the engine room suddenly appeared on deck, and, standing behind the commander, who was explaining something to the boys, waited until the captain had finished.

“Did you wish to see me?” asked Mr. Wiggs, turning to the man.

“Yes, sir. Mr. McDougall told me to ask you to step below, sir.”

“What’s the trouble?” for the man seemed a little uneasy.

“I don’t know exactly, sir, but I think it’s a leak.”

“A leak?”

“Yes, sir. Mr. McDougall thinks some of the forward plates have started.”

“It must have been the storm,” commented Captain Wiggs, as he hastened below. “Yet it’s a good while taking effect. I hope it isn’t serious.”