Motor Boat Boys on the Great Lakes; or, Exploring the Mystic Isle of Mackinac

An hour later they were approaching the magic isle that has won a fame all its own as a picture of beauty seldom equalled, and never excelled – green with its grass and foliage, and with many snow white cottages and hotels showing through this dark background.

“Did you ever see anything like it?” asked Jack, as the three boats sped onward.

“Never,” replied several of the others.

“I’m glad we’ll soon be there!” declared Nick; but everybody knew without asking, that he was thinking about that beefsteak and onions, rather than the joy of reaching such a pretty shore.

“Look at the old blockhouse up on the hill!” remarked Herb.

“Yes, I’ve been reading up on this place, and history tells about some lively times around here during the War of 1812. Seems the British thought Mackinac a good place to have possession of. They sent out an expedition, and came ashore in the night, surprising the little American garrison.”

“That was tough,” grunted Josh. “Like to hear things the other way. Thought Americans never got taken by surprise.”

“Oh! well,” laughed Jack; “you want to read history again, my boy. But I notice a good many steamers around. I reckon most of those bound through to Chicago stop here, as well as the Lake Superior ones. There’s a boat coming in full of people. The Islander she’s called. That must be the boat going over to the Snow Islands every day. There’s another back of her, perhaps coming down from the Soo. Seems quite a lively place, fellows.”

“You bet it is. We must take a run around the island tomorrow, before going on. Never do to pass this by, as we may not be here again in a hurry,” Herb remarked.

Approaching the shore they began to look out a suitable place where the small boats might be tied up for the time they expected to remain. This was not easy to find, since they had to take care and not get in the way of any large craft that might be going out.

After all it was Nick who discovered the opening. Josh declared that the fat boy’s vision was sharpened by the clamorous demands of his appetite; but Nick, as usual, paid little attention to such slurs.

“Who’s going ashore to find a butcher shop?” he demanded, as they began to draw close in to the shore, and get ready to tie up.

“I appoint you a committee of one to secure the steak,” said Jack, solemnly; “and remember, don’t let it be a bit over one inch thick, and weigh more than five pounds.”

“Good gracious! that wouldn’t be even a pound apiece!” expostulated Nick.

“All right! we expect to have some other things along with it, remember,” Jack continued. “You know the penalty of disobedience to orders, Buster?”

“Deprived of food allowance for twenty-four hours!” broke in Josh.

Nick only groaned; and presently finding a chance to creep ashore he hurried off on his delightful errand. For when there was anything connected with meals to be done, Nick was as spry as anybody in camp.

It was some little time before he showed up again.

“Wow! look at what’s coming, would you?” shouted Josh, suddenly.

Of course it was Nick, laden with various packages, and grinning amiably.

“It’s all right, Jack,” he announced as he came ambling along. “It doesn’t weigh a fraction over five pounds. Oh! I was mighty particular about that, I tell you. Had him cut off pieces of the tail till it got down to an even thing.”

“Here, somebody help him, or he’ll take a header into the brink, and lose half of what he’s hugging so tight!” called Herb, and Jimmie started to obey.

“But what’s in all these other packages?” asked Jack, pretending to frown.

“Why, onions, just onions and then more onions!” came the bland reply; at which the others burst out into a roar, causing Nick to look at them in pity. “You fellows can laugh all you please,” he said in lofty scorn; “it don’t feaze me one little bit. I was afraid we might fall short, and so I bought a half peck at the butcher’s. Then, while I was coming along, I saw some white ones, and couldn’t resist the temptation to get a couple of quarts. They go fine raw when you feel just nippy, you see, along with a piece of pilot bread.”

“But there’s still another package; how about that, Buster?” asked George.

“Why,” answered the other, slowly; “after I started off with the white ones would you believe it I discovered a lot of those fine big Spanish onions in a confectioner’s store. I just couldn’t resist the temptation to get half a dollar’s worth. Mightn’t have the chance again, you know, fellows. It’s my treat this time.”

“Thank goodness! we’ve really got enough of something to satisfy Pudding for once!” cried Josh, as he received the various packages.

“Look at the steak, Josh,” said the provider, proudly. “Guess I ought to know a good thing in that line. It’s streaked with fat, and is bound to just melt away in your mouth.”

Josh admitted that it did look tempting; and later on the entire party agreed that Nick had profited by his hobby.

When starting upon this extended trip the motor boat boys had agreed that on no account would they sleep under the roof of a house, unless in case of sickness. So even at Mackinac they must keep to their boats.

Several of them went ashore to see what the place looked like under the electric lights, returning an hour or so later, ready for bed. Those left behind had attended to all necessary arrangements, so that little time was lost.

As customary, the watches were made up of two, on different boats, and so selected that Nick would be paired with Jack himself; because the commodore was suspicious of Buster’s ability to remain awake with any one else as his sentry mate.

It happened that while these two were taking the first turn, and Jack every once in a while would poke Buster with a setting pole he kept handy, something not down on the bills came to pass. The first thing that Jack knew about it was when Nick gave vent to a shrill screech, and scrambled to his knees, holding on to some struggling object that seemed to scratch and snarl and act in a way that was altogether mysterious. And of course the whole six boys were immediately awake, sitting up to ask all sorts of questions.

CHAPTER VIII

GEORGE WAITS FOR HIS CHUMS

“What is it?” Josh exclaimed, as he scrambled to his knees.

“Buster is on the rampage again! That’s what comes of eating too much supper. He’s got a bad case of indigestion, I bet!” declared George, grumblingly; for he had come very near falling over the side of his boat when Josh made that sudden move, and it startled him not a little.

“But he’s got hold of something, I tell you! Look at him grabbing around. Must be a wildcat or something like that,” Josh went on.

“Faith ye’re all wrong,” spoke up Jimmie. “Sure it’s a monkey he’s huggin’ till his breast, so he be.”

“A monkey!” cried Herb, as he appeared behind the fat boy, holding a fryingpan threateningly in his hand.

“Yes, that’s what!” gasped Nick. “Don’t you see, a tame monkey, and with a little red cap, and a coat on. He was going through my pockets, I tell you, when I woke up – that is when I first felt him. Give us a hand here and help me hold the little scratcher. My! but he’s strong, and he tries to bite my nose every time.”

“Because you’re hurting him,” said Herb. “Wait till I get hold of that bit of rope he’s trailing behind. Now let him loose, Buster, but keep him away from your face. He’d scratch your eyes out.”

The queer little visitor seemed to be willing to submit, once Nick stopped squeezing him; for he immediately took off his red cap, and made quite a bow. Then he snatched up a small tin cup that was attached to a belt he wore, with a tiny chain, and held it out to Herb.

“Give him a penny, Herb,” laughed Jack.

“Yes, he recognizes an old acquaintance; help a poor fellow in distress, Herb!” Josh hastened to add.

“Where under the sun d’ye suppose he came from?” asked George, suspiciously.

“Must belong to some Italian organgrinder, I should say, judging from the uniform, and the piece of broken rope. Perhaps he’s run away, and wanted to become a stowaway on board Herb’s boat,” Jack went on.

“All right,” the other remarked, promptly, “anyhow, he knew a good boat when he saw one. Give him credit for that. But did you hear what Buster said about him feeling in his pockets? Now, I’ve heard it said that often these monkeys are taught to steal, going up into second-story windows, and grabbing things. Perhaps he was sent aboard right now to pick up anything he could find.”

“I tell you he knew all about vest pockets, as sure as you live,” announced Nick.

“Looks to me as if he had got something in his pocketbook right now!” declared Herb.

“What’s that? A monkey have a pocketbook? You’re poking fun at us!” cried Josh.

“I am, eh? You observe me,” said Herb, as with a dextrous movement he seized upon the monkey, and by main strength forced him to eject something from his mouth.

“Say, it’s a real watch, fellows!” cried Nick, astonished; “he had it right in his cheek, sure he did.”

“And it’s my little dollar nickel watch,” said Herb. “Shows he searched me before trying Buster. All the same if it’d been a hundred dollar gold repeater. He’s a thief, sure enough. What’ll we do with him, fellows?”

“Tie him up, and if nobody comes after him, we’ll keep Jocko,” suggested Josh.

“Think he’d be lots of fun, I suppose,” grumbled Nick. “But if he stays it’s got to be on another boat than this. The little fiend would have it in for me. He’d worry the life out of me; and I just can’t afford to lose any flesh.”

“Changed your tune, eh?” taunted Josh. “Seems to me I’ve heard you trying all sorts of ways to get thin.”

“That was before I took notice of the horrible example we had along, of the living skeleton,” retorted Nick. “After that I just made up my mind to remain nice and plump. Some people look best when they’re fat, you know.”

“There, he’s thinking of Sallie again,” remarked Josh.

“But we haven’t seen a sign of the Mermaid,” remarked George; “and I reckon she’s left here for the Soo region ahead of us. But Herb, find some way to fasten the little rascal up for tonight, so he can’t do any mischief. If his owner comes for him in the morning we’ll give him a scare.”

Herb managed to do this, although Nick declared he would be afraid to take a wink of sleep for fear of being choked, or something else as dreadful. All the same when his time came to give up sentry duty, no one heard so much as a “peep” from Nick again until daylight arrived.

It was arranged on the following morning that they should explore the island, in order to see its wonders and beauties, in two detachments, each consisting of three. Jack learned that bicycles could be hired close by, and mounted on these he and Herb and Josh made the grand rounds, allowing nothing to escape them.

Then after lunch the others took wheel and carried out the same programme, even to visiting the old blockhouse on the hill, and viewing the charming marine spectacle from the top of the little bluff.

As they gathered around late in the afternoon to compare notes, and discuss the various matters that interested them, Jack noted first of all that the shrewd little monkey, which had been dubbed Jocko, was still aboard the Comfort.

Nobody had shown up to inquire about him. Nick was for going ashore and spreading the news of the find far and wide; but the others refused to allow him. They really believed that Jocko had been sent aboard by his master to steal; and that this party was afraid to claim him now.

“If we have to take him along he’ll give us lots of fun,” remarked Jack.

“Yes, Buster is only thinking that there’d be one more mouth to feed, and that might cut his share of the rations down a peg,” asserted Josh.

“Now that’s where you wrong me,” declared the fat boy, solemnly. “If you insist on hearing what I was thinking about, I’ll tell you. Suppose we should get stormbound somewhere up on the twisting St. Mary’s river, or on the biggest fresh water lake in the world – why, you see we could always turn to Jocko, and make a good meal. I remember reading that monkeys were just prime.”

“Oh! you cannibal!” cried the horrified Josh. “Why, that poor little innocent looks just like a baby.”

“Yes,” retorted Nick, “your mother showed me your picture when you were six months old, and there is a close resemblance.”

Night came on, and there was no claimant, so Jocko ate supper with the boys. He was already making good friends, and seemed very well satisfied with his new lot. Perhaps he missed the cuffing and beating he was accustomed to; but he could do without that very well; and the eating must have appealed to him strongly.

In the morning they left soon after breakfast. The day opened fair, and they knew there was a long trip before them if they hoped to cross the head of Lake Huron, and follow the winding channel of the St. Mary’s river so as to reach Sault Ste. Marie by night.

Fortunately the breeze, what little there was, chanced to be in the north for a change. This allowed them to keep close to the southern shore of the peninsula for some hours, following its contour and avoiding the pounding that heavy seas always brought in their train.

Finally they entered the narrow strait between the mainland and big Drummond Island. Here the bustling port of Detour was passed. Nick hinted about going ashore and doing a little marketing; but Jack vetoed that proposition.

“Plenty of time to do all that after we get to the Soo tonight,” he observed; and Nick knew there was no appeal from his decision.

“Is that Canada over yonder?” asked Josh, pointing to the island off their lee.

“No, Drummond belongs to Michigan,” Jack replied. “Further on though, we’ll strike St. Joseph’s Island, and that is a part of Canada. So we’ll all step ashore just to say we’ve been outside the U. S. for once.”

“And that Mud Lake you were telling us about is somewhere along there, ain’t it?” Herb asked.

“We’ll find it, I reckon,” replied the commodore, drily.

They did, and had reason to remember it too. Sometimes the waterway bearing the outlet of Lake Superior to the lower lakes was very wide and imposing. Then again it would narrow until Nick expressed his firm conviction that they had taken the wrong channel, and would be stopped, and have to return over their course.

But Jack kept his charts before him as he led, and was positive he had made no mistake of that sort. Occasionally George would be unable to restrain his impetuous nature. At such times he would shoot ahead of the others, to make a little rush of perhaps a mile, and then slow up to await their coming, being always careful not to lose sight of his chums.

But alas, George did this prank just once too often. He heard Jack say some time before that they were passing through Mud Lake, and must be careful; but thought this referred to getting lost in some side passage that looked promising.

“Wait up at the head yonder; you’re too slow for me!” he called out, as the Wireless left the bunch, and cut through the water like an arrow shot from an archer’s bow.

“Lookout!” warned Jack; but George who was quite confident concerning his own ability to manage his affairs, just waved a hand back, and continued to speed for all his racing boat was worth.

Jack was sitting there where he could manage the wheel and continue to study the chart spread in front of him, when he heard a wild whoop from Jimmie.

“Look! look yander!”

Jack was just in time to see poor Josh take a flying header into the water, when the speed boat came to an abrupt stop on a concealed mudbank.

The sound of the tremendous splash floated back to the ears of the others, causing Nick to roll over, and make the boat quiver with his riotous laughter; for that Josh should be the victim of this ridiculous accident gave the fat boy exceeding great joy.

CHAPTER IX

IN TERRIBLE PERIL

“Just what I expected!” exclaimed Jack, grimly.

“What was it?” demanded Herb; for at the moment it happened that the Tramp, being in front, obstructed the vision of those in the larger boat.

“Oh! tell me, was that really poor old clumsy Josh?” demanded Nick, poking his red face over the side of the Comfort. “I saw a pair of legs up in the air, and remembered some fellow down at Mackinac telling us what big frogs they found up here along the St. Mary’s. The bass just love them, he said, and the bigger the frog the larger bass you get. That one would take in a whale, I guess, eh?”

“It was Josh all right, for I can see George trying to get him with his boat hook right now,” said Jack, hardly knowing whether to laugh, or feel provoked on account of the possible delay.

“But why did Josh jump? Was he practicing stunts?” Nick went on innocently.

“Well,” replied the commodore, “I imagine George made him squat up in the extreme bow, to sing out if he saw a shallow place ahead. And evidently Josh was looking all around, for he failed to discover a mudbank that was just hidden under the surface of the water.”

“But George found it,” asserted Herb.

“Trust George for findin’ annything at all, at all,” grinned Jimmie.

“Hope he didn’t go to busting his old engine again. My! what a terrible time we did have with that cranky thing on the Mississippi,” observed Nick; who had been on board the speed boat during that memorable cruise down to New Orleans, and hence passed through an experience he would never, never forget.

“I hope not,” echoed Jack. “Perhaps the worst is yet to come. Perhaps he ran on that old mudbank so hard, going at top speed as he was, that he won’t find it an easy job to work off again.”

“That might delay us, be the powers, so we wouldn’t be able to pull into the ould Soo short of tomorry, bad cess till hasty George!” remarked Jimmie.

“Well,” remarked Nick, with a contented sigh, “at the worst we’ve got Jocko, you remember, boys. Baked or stewed he’d make a meal for the crowd.”

Meanwhile they were rapidly drawing closer to the stuck Wireless. Apparently the skipper of the stranded craft had succeeded in dragging his crew out of the mire, for there was a dripping figure on the forward deck, scraping the mud away, and evidently more or less bubbling over with various remarks.

Jack cautioned Herb to slow down as they drew near.

“Bad enough to have one held fast,” he said. “If the whole bunch got stuck, why, we’d have to take to the dinkies, and go ashore on Canada soil. How does your engine work, George? Nothing broken I hope?”

“I don’t think so,” came the reply from George who looked somewhat humiliated, as does every sailor when held up on a mudbank.

“Give it a try, and see. Reverse, and perhaps you’ll glide off backwards, the same way you went on,” Jack suggested.

At any rate the engine worked apparently as well as ever; but though George put it at its “best licks,” as he declared, there was not a sign of anything going.

Josh tried to use the setting pole, and came very near taking another header.

“Say, this mud goes right along down to China, I reckon; leastways there ain’t any bottom to it!” he cried, as he recovered himself just in time.

“We’ll take your word for it, Josh,” said Nick, sweetly; “because you know you’ve been over to see for yourself. But I wouldn’t try it again. Next time perhaps you might stick your head in and smother. Then what would I do for any fun at all?”

George kept trying every way he could think of, in the effort to work his boat off the bank of sticky mud. It was in vain. Apparently many unseen hands held it tight, as though unwilling to let the reckless skipper have another chance.

When an hour had passed, with several false alarms, as George thought success was coming, he turned to Jack with a blank face, upon which disgust was plainly written.

“You’ll have to get me out of this, commodore,” he said. “I own up that I don’t seem able to budge her a bit. Even with Josh in the dinky, pulling like all get-out, and her engine rattling away at full speed astern, she won’t move an inch. And already we’ve lost enough time to make it impossible to get to the Soo by night.”

George was apparently penitent, so Jack did not have the heart to rub it in at that time. Later on perhaps he might force the reckless one to promise about turning over a new leaf.

“All right; we’ll soon yank you out of that, George. I didn’t want to propose anything until you had tried every scheme you could think of. Herb, throw George your painter, and let him make fast to the stern of the Wireless. Then I’ll do the same by you. In that way we’ll be able to get both boats working. If George starts his engine at the same time, she’s just got to come off, or go to pieces. Get what I mean?”

“Sure I do, and it’s a good idea,” replied the pilot of the Comfort, readily.

Of course George was willing enough to accept any sort of assistance now. And he readily made the painter fast to a ringbolt at the stern of the speed boat.

When all things were ready, Jack asked him to get his engine moving.

“Now, start yours up slowly, Herb,” Jack went on; “not too fast to begin with; but gradually increase until you’re applying two-thirds of your power. Stop there, and if she refuses to budge, I’ll come in. We’ll get her yet. She’s got to come, I tell you.”

And she did, after the Tramp added her drawing facilities to those of the others.

“Hurrah!” shrilled Josh, when the speed boat started to move backwards out of her muddy berth; he had almost plunged over again, and saved himself by a quick clutch at a cleat near by.

“What next?” asked Herb, after they had become disentangled again, and were in a condition to proceed.

“No use thinking of making the Soo today,” remarked Jack. “Too dangerous along the upper reaches of this river to try it in the night. We can move along to the upper end of this island, and camp on Canadian land tonight, for a change.”

“That sounds good to me,” observed Nick; but only suspicious looks were cast in his direction; for well they knew that the word “camp” with Buster was another way of spelling “eat.”

“How far would we be from the city at the rapids, then?” asked Herb, as they once more started.

“Oh, we could make it in a few hours,” Jack replied, “if all went well. Keep to the right of that smaller island. That belongs to Michigan. Some use the other channel; but we’ll take this one. You see, St. Joseph’s Island is all of fifteen miles long, and pretty wild in parts. Ought to be good hunting here in season.”

“Don’t I wish it was in season, then,” said Nick, smacking his lips. “Always have wanted to eat some venison from Canada right in camp. Say, fellows, if a silly old deer just went and committed suicide before our very eyes, by jumping over a precipice, wouldn’t we have a right to get a haunch from his bally old carcase?”

“Well,” laughed Jack, “if a Canadian game warden found you in possession he’d take you in. So just forget all you’ve ever heard about juicy venison. It’s dry and tough stuff at the best, and couldn’t compare with that Mackinac steak you bought.”

Nick sighed.

“And we have to wait till tomorrow noon before we are in touch with a market, do we? I don’t ever see how we’re going to pull through. Tell you what, somebody ought to try for fish here when we stop. Looks like bass might hang around waiting for a chance to jump into the pan. How about that, Jack?”

“Just what I had made my mind to try,” smiled the other, who liked nothing better than bringing his rod into play when there was a chance for game fish.

After a while George announced that he could see what looked like the end of the big island ahead.

“And here’s a pretty decent place to pull in,” declared Herb.

As they had nothing to fear from storms or hoboes in such a retired nook, the boys, having secured their boats in proper fashion against the shore, where they could not rub or get into trouble, amused themselves as they saw fit.

Jack, true to his promise, got out his fishing tackle, and proceeded to try all sorts of lures in the hope of tempting a bass to bite. Finally he took his little dinky, and began to troll, using a phantom minnow. Almost immediately he had a vicious strike, and after a struggle pulled up a fine fish.

“Do it some more!” called out Herb, who was lying on the shore, watching him at the sport.