CHAPTER V
CAPTAIN WIGGS’S PROPOSAL

Fenn had to stand considerable “jollying” on the part of his chums, but, though he blushed and was a little annoyed, he took it in good part.

“You can talk about Ruth all you like,” he said, “but, just the same, if you have any plans to beat a cruise on the Great Lakes, why – trot ’em out, that’s all. We’ve got to go somewhere this vacation, and I don’t see any better place, though I’ve looked through the whole geography.”

“And the only place you could get to was Bayville,” interrupted Ned. “It’s all right, Stumpy. I agree with you, that it would be a fine trip.”

“How could we make it?” asked Frank.

“Walk, of course,” replied Bart, with a grin. “It’s water all the way.”

“Funny!” answered Frank, poking his sarcastic chum in the ribs. “I mean where could we get a boat?”

“Hire one, I s’pose,” put in Fenn, who had been busy marking an imaginary cruise in lead pencil on the map of the Great Lakes.

“That would be pretty expensive,” said Bart. “We’re not millionaires, though we each have a little money salted away in the bank.”

The boys discussed the proposed cruise for some time longer, but there seemed no way of going on it. To hire a steamer or motorboat for such a long trip was practically out of the question for them, and, with much regret they all admitted it could not be considered.

“Come over to-morrow night,” invited Fenn, when his chums left that evening. “Maybe we can think of something by then.”

The next afternoon Fenn, who had gone to the store for his mother, stopped, on his way back, at the public dock of the Still River, where several vessels were loading with freight for Lake Erie ports. There was much hurrying about and seeming confusion; wagons and trucks backing up and going ahead, and scores, of men wheeling boxes and barrels on board lighters and steamers.

“Port! Port your helm!” suddenly called a voice, almost in Fenn’s ear, and he jumped to one side, to allow a short, stout man, with his arms full of bundles, to pass him. “That’s it!” the man went on. “Nearly run you down, didn’t I? Thought you were a water-logged craft in my course. Why, hello! If it isn’t Fenn Masterson!”

“Captain Wiggs!” exclaimed Fenn, recognizing the commander of the Modoc.

“Looking for a berth?” went on the captain, as he placed his bundles down on the head of a barrel. “I can sign you as cleaner of the after boiler tubes, if you like,” and he looked so grave that Fenn did not know whether he was joking or not. It was a habit the captain had, of making the most absurd remarks in a serious way, so that even his friends, at times, did not quite know how to take him. “Yes,” he went on, “I need a small boy to crawl through the after boiler tubes twice a day to keep ’em clean. Would you like the job?”

“I – I don’t believe so,” replied Fenn, with a smile, for now he knew Captain Wiggs was joking.

“All right then,” said the commander, with an assumed sigh. “I’ll have to do it myself, and I’m getting pretty old and fat for such work. The tubes are smaller than they used to be. But I dare say I can manage it. Where you going?” he asked Fenn suddenly, with a change of manner.

“No place in particular. Home, pretty soon. Why?”

“I was going to ask you to come aboard and have a glass of lemonade,” invited the captain. “It’s a hot day and lemonade is the best drink I know of.”

“Oh, I’ll come,” decided Fenn, for Captain Wiggs’s lemonade had quite a reputation. Besides there were always queer little chocolate cakes in the captain’s cabin lockers, for he was very fond of sweet things, as Fenn knew from experience.

“Haven’t saved any more sinking automobiles, lately, have you?” asked the commander, when Fenn was seated in the cabin, sipping a glass of the delicious beverage.

“No. Mr. Hayward has gone back to Bayville.”

“Bayville? Is that where he lives?” asked Captain Wiggs.

“That’s it,” replied Fenn. “Why?”

“That’s odd,” mused the captain. “I’m going right near there, this cruise. You see I’ve got a mixed cargo this trip,” he explained. “I’ve got to deliver some things at several lake ports, but the bulk of the stuff goes to Duluth. Now if you would only ship with me, as cleaner of the after boiler tubes, why you could go along.”

“Could I?” asked Fenn eagerly.

“Sure.”

“And – and could you take any other boiler tube cleaners, or – or any other help?”

“Well, I need a couple of lads to dust the coal,” said the captain, so seriously that Fenn thought he meant it. “You see if coal is dusty it doesn’t burn well,” he added. “We have to dust off every lump before we can put it in the boiler. Now a couple of handy lads, who were quick and smart could – ”

“Maybe you could use three,” suggested Fenn, with a smile.

“Sure I could,” spoke the captain. “That’s it!” he added quickly. “You and your three chums! Why not? You four could come along, and, if necessary, you could all dust coal. We use a lot of it. Come on now, here’s a proposal for you,” and the captain smiled good naturedly. “You four boys come along and make the trip to Duluth with me.”

“Would it – would it cost much?” asked Fenn, seeing a chance of carrying out the cruise he had planned.

“Not a cent. I tell you I’ll use you boys in more ways than one. Dusting the coal is only a small matter. There is the smoke stack to be scrubbed, the dishes to be hand painted and the windows to be taken out and put in again.”

“Do you mean it?” asked Fenn. “I mean, do you really want us on this trip, Captain Wiggs?”

“Of course I do. I sail in three days, to be gone a month or more. If you boys want to have a good vacation come along. Get the permission of your folks and let me know to-night.”

“I will!” exclaimed Fenn, his brain whirling with the suddenness of it all. “I’ll tell the other boys right away,” and, not even pausing to thank the captain for the lemonade, he hurried up the companion ladder, out on the deck of the Modoc and, jumping to the dock, ran up the street as fast as he could go.

CHAPTER VI
IN PERIL

“Here’s the stuff from the store, mom!” exclaimed Fenn, as he rushed into the house.

“What’s the matter?” asked his mother anxiously. “Has there been an accident, Fenn?”

“Got to find the boys! Captain Wiggs! Modoc! Going on a cruise! Tell you later!” was what Fenn exclaimed in jerky sentences as he hurried down the side steps and out of the yard.

“Oh, those boys! They get so excited you can’t do anything with them!” exclaimed Mrs. Masterson. “I wonder what they’re up to now?”

If she could have seen her son and his chums, whom he met on the street, soon after his hurried exit, she would have been more puzzled than ever.

“Great news! Great!” yelled Fenn, as he caught sight of Frank, Ned and Bart approaching him. “We’re going with Captain Wiggs to make a tour of the Great Lakes! Whoop! Hold me down, somebody!”

He grabbed Ned and Bart, each by an arm, and began whirling them around in a good imitation of an Indian war dance.

“Here! Let up!” cried Frank. “What’s it all about? Who’s killed?”

“Nobody, you ninny!” shouted Fenn. “We’re going on the Modoc!”

“Who says so?”

“When?”

“How many of us?”

“Where?”

“Are we all going?”

All Fenn could do was to nod his head vigorously. He was all out of breath. As soon as he could get enough wind to talk, he rapidly explained what Captain Wiggs had said.

“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.