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

Yes, there it was beyond, and they were speeding down at a pace that made one dizzy to notice it. He could feel that both Indian guides were paddling desperately away from the left, as though fearing that they were too close to the verge of that death chasm!

What if a paddle chanced to break right then and there? They carried spare ones fortunately – Jack had noted that; but all the same he hoped nothing of the sort would come about.

Hardly had this chilly idea flashed into Jack’s mind than he heard what seemed to be a groan close to his ear. At the same time he felt the boat quiver in a suspicious manner. Turning instantly the boy was horrified to see that the Indian guide in the rear had crumpled in his place, with his head fallen forward, and seemed to be gasping for breath.

He had collapsed just at the most dreadful moment, when the canoe was swooping down close to the edge of the whirlpool!

CHAPTER XII

WINNING AN INDIAN’S ADMIRATION

Fortunately for all of them, Jack Stormways was not given to fear. In emergencies he acted from intuition, rather than through thinking things out, no matter however speedily.

There may come times when a second counts for everything. Jack believed such an occasion was now upon them; and he acted instantly.

The man in falling forward had pushed his paddle alongside Jack. It was as plain an invitation to fill his place as could have been given.

Making one swoop the boy snatched up the stout blade, and instantly dipped it over the port side. Desperately he exerted his strength to steer the canoe away from the fatal eddies that sought to draw them still further into the vortex.

The Indian in the bow may have suspected something of what had occurred; but he dared not turn his head now, or take his attention away from the rocks ahead for even one lone second.

As for the five boys, they were all staring at the near-by whirlpool as though actually fascinated by its terrors; and not suspecting how close they were to plunging straight into its grip.

With every atom of his strength did Jack work, dipping as deeply as he could, and striving against the giant power of the mill race on which they were speeding.

The edge of the circling current was horribly close; in fact they seemed to skirt its very border, closer perhaps than even the veteran guide ever carried his cargoes of tourists, when in his prime.

Jack fairly held his breath as the crisis came. He did not know, could not tell whether they would win out or not. It was an experience that would doubtless continue to haunt the lad for a long time. Perhaps he would awaken in the night with a start and a low cry, having dreamed that once again he sat in the canoe with the dark skinned steersman fallen in a faint, and the hungry maw of the whirlpool yawning so very close on their left that one could have tossed a chip directly into it.

“Wow! wasn’t that a close shave though, boys?” shouted George, half turning his head to look at his mates; and then following his words with another cry: “Look at Jack, would you? Great governor! what happened?”

And as the others twisted around to look, they were amazed to discover that Jack was wielding that paddle like a veteran, his face as white as chalk, and his eyes staring; but his teeth firmly pressed together, with a look of grim determination on his young face.

Not a word was spoken until they had passed the last bristling rock, and spun out below where the foamy water took on a less violent aspect.

Then Bedlam broke loose.

“Sit still, all of you!” cried Jack, as he saw a movement on the part of his chums to get up; “you’ll upset the canoe yet, if you try that. Wait till we reach the shore, and you’ll know about it. The man has fainted, that’s all; and I had to take his place.”

“But he was all right when we started, for I looked around and saw him,” declared Herb.

“That’s true,” Jack answered. “He keeled over just before we got to the whirlpool, and as he dropped his paddle right beside me, all I had to do was to dip it in, and exert myself a little.”

“A little!” echoed George, with thrilling emphasis, “look at the beads of sweat on his forehead, fellows! Jack, honest now, you must have saved all our lives. Ugh! just to think, if the boat had swerved then, where would we be right now?”

They looked at each other, and turned paler than when passing through the yeasty waters of the rapids. But Jack tried to make light of it all.

“Oh! shucks!” he laughed, though his voice trembled a bit in spite of his wonderful nerve; “any of you would have done the same thing. Why, there was nothing else to do, to tell the truth.”

“Me?” exclaimed Nick; “I’d sure have been so frozen with horror that all I could do would have been to grab hold of the boat, and shut my eyes. Kept ’em shut part of the time, anyhow. Felt like I had an awful temptation to just jump out of the boat, and into that nice water that was singing and gurgling along beside us.”

“I guess you’d better never try the rapids any more then, Buster,” said George, “if that’s the way it affected you. I remember now hearing you say you never was able to walk on the ties of a railroad bridge, or look over a precipice, because something made you dizzy.”

They reached the shore near the small house where Old John Boucher and his family, one of the sons said to be a preacher, lived in the days gone by. When the boys climbed out of the canoe, the Indian stepped in to help his comrade, who had by then come out of his swoon, and was able to feebly walk.

To the surprise of Jack the Indian who had been in the bow stopped to hold out his hard-skinned hand, and squeeze that of the boy.

“You Jack all right! Think it all over with everybody when Jim he fall. But you do right, think. Bully!” was what he said.

“Hurray!” shouted Nick, waving his new hat wildly.

“Three cheers and a tiger for our commodore!” exclaimed George; and they were given with a vim that caused many on the stone walk along the canal embankment to look down in wonder toward the little group.

Nor would the guide accept any pay for the trip. They could not force it on him.

“You ride with me all time, and not cent pay, Jack!” he declared, his black eyes sparkling with sincere admiration as he looked in the face of the white boy.

Of course the voyagers had lots to talk about while they continued their exploration of the city on the great canal. They even climbed the hill near where the government barracks stood during the Spanish-American war, and obtained a fine view of the entire neighborhood. Yet nothing attracted their attention as did the ever rushing rapids, where the waters of the greatest inland sea in the world emptied into the river that was to bear them through the other lakes in the chain, and by way of the St. Lawrence River, to the far-distant sea.

The thrilling adventure had apparently sobered the boys too, for there was much less horse play than usual, nor were jokes in order for the balance of that day.

Having some time to spare they took the ferryboat, and crossed to the Canadian side of the river below the rapids. Here they viewed the other canal, through which considerable commerce also passes, principally Canadian.

They also took advantage of their “visit abroad,” as George called it, to inspect the big pulp mills, where spruce logs were ground up, and made into sheets that would later on become paper.

The latter end of the day was put in securing provisions calculated to last for a week or more, since they could not tell when another chance to procure supplies might come their way, once they embarked upon the bosom of Lake Superior.

Nick was once more in his element. He suggested all sorts of things that he had read about in his cook book. Had they sent him forth, with plenty of money and unlimited assurance, the chances were, as George declared, the expedition would have had to hire another boat, just to transport the stuff that fellow would have flooded them with.

“I bet he’d buy out a whole grocery store, given half a chance,” said Josh.

“Why, we’ve got all the stuff right now we can stow away comfortably,” declared Herb, scratching his head as he contemplated the numerous packages, and then looking toward his boat near by.

“Do as we suggested before, Herb,” said Josh.

“What was that?” demanded Nick, suspiciously.

“Make Buster take up his quarters in the dinky. It’ll be a ride that might take the shine off even that dash down the rapids.”

“Not any,” asserted the fat boy strenuously. “I’m too heavy for such monkey shines. Josh likes the water better than I do. You all saw how he can dive so gracefully just as if he had taken lessons from a granddaddy frog. If anybody has to be quartered in a dinky to make room, he’s the chap, all right.”

But after a while the last package was put away, and places found for all.

George drew Jack aside as the others were arranging things aboard the various boats.

“I’ve been making a few inquiries as to whether another small motor boat went through here,” he remarked.

“Oh! yes, I’d come near forgetting Clarence,” laughed Jack. “And I suppose he took the canal several days ago. He must have gained on us while we were losing time, stuck in the mud, stormbound and such things.”

“Well, he didn’t go through here, anyhow,” replied George. “And the chances are ten to one he’d never think of using the Canadian locks.”

“But he had a good start of us,” remarked his chum.

“Well, do you think the Wireless is bound to monopolize all the mud in the St. Mary’s river?” exclaimed George, indignantly. “I guess Clarence has stuck somewhere on the way up; and as he didn’t have any bully chums to pull him off he’s there yet!”

“We didn’t see anything of him,” mused Jack; “but then, there were lots of times when we had a choice of channels. Even the big boats take one of two that are buoyed and targeted. Yes, Clarence might have chosen one we let alone. But of course, if he hasn’t passed through the canal, he must still be below.”

“I’m sorry,” George remarked, gloomily.

“I suppose so, because you’re only thinking of that grand race you expected to pull off with your old rival, sooner or later. But the less I see of Clarence the better I’m pleased.”

“Do we go ashore to a restaurant tonight, Jack?” continued the other.

“Let the others decide,” Jack replied. “As for me, I think it would be the best thing to do. Josh is being overworked, as it is, and needs a little rest. Besides, Buster will be tickled, because that would leave more grub in the bunch for the future.”

Little Jocko, the monkey, had made himself quite at home with the boys. They took turns having him aboard, and he furnished considerable fun for the crowd with his antics. As yet he had not become quite reconciled to Nick, and always showed his white teeth whenever the fat boy came around. But by treating him to choice bits of food Buster was winning the little chap over by degrees.

The balance were of the same mind as Jack when the proposition was put up to them. And accordingly they went to dinner in two detachments, Nick being with the first, and serving as a connecting link between both; for he was still there when Jack, Jimmie and George arrived at the eatinghouse; and sat them out in the bargain.

Still, the second squad had enough, and could not complain that Nick had made a famine in that particular restaurant; which Josh had hinted was possible, when telling them how the fat boy had refused to leave when they did.

It was an entirely different night they spent there at the Soo, from most of the quiet ones of the trip. Much noise continued throughout the livelong night; for the lock is lighted by electricity, and vessels can keep passing up and down the nineteen feet rise and fall at any and all hours.

Frequently during the night the hoarse whistle of some big steamer, or a tug towing whaleback barges, would sound close at hand, awakening those who were not accustomed to this bustling nature of things.

In the morning all of them declared that they had passed an uneasy night; and professed to be delighted because it would not be repeated.

“Tonight we hope to be in camp somewhere along the quiet shore of the Big Lake,” said George, yawning and stretching.

“Yes,” added Jack, with kindling eyes, “where those whoppers of speckled beauties are to be found, if looked for.”

“Yum! yum! speed the hour!” mumbled Nick; and of course no one needed to be told that already his thoughts were turning to the glowing camp fire, and the tempting odors that would arise when the coffee pot was on, and the pink trout sputtering in the several fryingpans.

And shortly afterward, breakfast having been eaten at the same restaurant, which had evidently laid in a new lot of supplies since their last raid, they entered the big lock, to have the boats elevated to the upper level.

CHAPTER XIII

THE GREAT INLAND SEA

It was just ten o’clock when the trio of little motor boats started out of the canal, and headed for the open lake far beyond. Long afterward they could look back, and see the stone electricity building between the two locks of the canal; and in imagination the picture as viewed from its top would haunt them, with the churning rapids occupying the center of the scene.

Leaving the canal at its juncture with the river, they were soon in the neck of the lake. Far as the eye could reach, and many times farther, stretched the sparkling water, as clear as crystal; and cold enough to satisfy any one, even on as hot a day as this August one promised to be.

At noon they found a good chance to go ashore. Nick of course was solemnly warned that this was sacred Canadian soil, and that on no account was he to try and purloin any strangely marked animals he might discover prowling around.

“You know they have some queer beasts in these foreign lands, Buster,” George remarked, shaking a finger before the other’s stubby nose. “And make up your mind right now that you’re going to let ’em all severely alone. Some time you can join an expedition sent out to Africa, to scoop up all sorts of freak cats and sich; but while you’re with us we’d rather you restrained that curiosity of yours. It’s going to get you in trouble, some fine day, Buster, you hear me?”

“That’ll do for you, George. Just wait, and see if I don’t have a chance to get back on you yet,” replied the other, complacently. “But would you look at Josh, what he’s bringing ashore now? Fish, as sure as you live. Bully for Josh! White fish, too, the best that grow in these waters, barring none. Tell us, where did you catch ’em, Josh?”

“With a silver hook, and from one of the Indian guides,” replied the cook. “He netted ’em in the rapids, I guess. Heard that earlier in the season they get tons and tons of fish that way; two men in a boat, one in the bow to use the net, and the other to hold the canoe against the current with a pole. Bet you they’ll eat fine, too.”

“I’ll help you clean ’em, Josh,” volunteered Nick.

“All right, then; get busy, Buster. Anyhow, you know a good thing when you see it,” returned the cook, only too willing to hand over the disagreeable task.

“Well,” remarked George, as he and Jack lay there in the shade, waiting for the lunch call; “We’re well on our way to the Agawa river region. Think we’ll make it today, commodore?”

“I’m afraid not,” replied Jack. “In the first place it looks dubious over yonder, as though we might get one of these famous Lake Superior storms you read about. If that drops in on us, we wouldn’t like to be caught out on the open, you know, George.”

“Well, excuse me, if you please,” returned the other, with a shrug of his shoulders that spoke louder than his words. “Storms and my speed boat don’t seem to agree very well. When one comes hustling along I prefer to be behind some sort of shelter, where I can laugh at the wind and the waves. But you spoke as if there might be still another reason for our not getting to the river tonight?”

“There is,” Jack answered. “This time you may have the laugh on Herb.”

“Say, you don’t mean to tell me that the staunch old engine in the Comfort has been up to any antics?” exclaimed George; not without a touch of exultation in his voice; for Herb had jeered at him so many times, on account of his troubles, it was only natural that he should feel a little gratification to know there were others.

“Yes, it developed after we left the Soo,” Jack went on. “Just like these mean things always do, you know. He’s been limping along for the last half hour. Of course there’s no telling how serious it may be. Let’s hope we can fix it in short order. Some of us had better get at it right after lunch.”

“If anybody can put it in apple pie order I guess you can, Jack,” George said; “and if you need any help call on me, because you know Herb isn’t much of a mechanic.”

“That’s kind of you, George,” said Herb, who happened to be coming over to where the two were talking at the time. “That’s the best thing about the motor boat boys; they like to josh each other, and get lots of fun out of things; but when it comes right down to trouble there isn’t one of them who wouldn’t do everything in his power to help a chum.”

The call to eat caused them to make haste to gather around. In fact, there was always an involuntary sort of race to the mess table when the meals were eaten on shore, so that all partook. On this very day Josh noticed this fact particularly and made mention of it.

“Say, do you know you fellows are that prompt you just seem to jump into your places?” he said. “I start to pound a fryingpan with my big spoon, and before I get in five licks all of you are in a ring waiting for grub.”

“Huh!” grunted George, “nothing funny about that. We have to!”

Nick of course took that as a reflection on him, and bridled up at once.

“That’s unkind of you, George,” he protested. “I was never known to take any fellow’s share. An equal division is my rule always. And if some one chooses to decline a portion of his prog; and my appetite is not satisfied, what harm in commandeering the remains?”

“Oh! you’re all right, Pudding; George is only tapping you as he does us all, when he gets the chance,” Herb said.

“Well, I take my punishment decently, when my turn comes, don’t I?” demanded George, as he received a generous portion of a delicious white fish, which had been rolled in egg, and cracker crumbs, and then cooked and browned in the grease from some salt pork placed in hot pans until it fried out.

“Sure you do;” Jack laughingly remarked. “And now forget all your troubles, fellows, and get down to work. Look out for bones. I’ve eaten white fish plenty of times, and they say they’re never so good unless cooked right where they’re caught.”

“I believe it too,” Josh continued. “Just like the pompano an uncle of mine used to tell us he caught down in Florida – used to jump in the boat, he said; and as they’re a delicate, white-flesh fish like this, putting them on ice a week or so takes the flavor out. It also makes them crumble up when cooked.”

“How is it, Buster?” Herb asked; but Nick only rolled his eyes, and kept on munching as though the fate of nations depended on his ability to clear off his tin platter within a given time.

When Nick was eating he wasted mighty little breath in talking, leaving all of that for more convenient times. Besides, he had a perfect horror of some time getting a fish bone in his throat.

“Wouldn’t matter much with a lanky fellow like Josh, you see,” he once said, in commenting on this fear; “because anybody could stick his fist down, and yank the fish-bone out; but my neck is so fat I’d choke to death long before you could say Jack Robinson. So don’t bother me when I’m eating fish, please.”

Afterwards Jack and George took a look at the engine of the Comfort. After doing a little tinkering they announced that it would probably run fairly well during the afternoon; but before starting on another day’s trip more would have to be done to it.

This was not very comforting to Herb; but he made the best of a bad bargain; and with light hearts the motor boys again started forth.

Jack kept an anxious eye on the southwestern sky. He did not altogether like the looks of things in that particular quarter, and was resolved that if they discovered a promising campsite in the afternoon, they could not afford to pass it by, if it afforded an offing for the boats.

That tremendous sea, stretching for several hundred miles away to the west, opened appalling possibilities in the way of a gale. The staunchest steamers that ever plied the fresh water seas would sometimes be as putty in the grasp of a summer storm; and what of the three puny mosquito craft that were as chips on the water?

At three o’clock Herb announced that his engine was getting worse instead of better. And about the same time a welcome hail from George, who was moving along in the van as usual, told that he had by the aid of his glasses sighted a shelter.

“Then it’s us to go ashore,” declared Jack; nor was any one sorry in their hearts; since a little while before a distant sound like thunder had been borne to their ears from the low-down patch of hovering clouds.

The retreat promised to be all the shelter they wanted, though it would hardly have answered for larger boats. Immediately all became as busy as beavers, the two tents being raised, and stoutly secured, so that any ordinary gale could not carry the canvas off like a balloon.

Jack had hardly finished his share of the work before he got out his rod, and busied himself in trying for trout; for he fancied that they were to be found in the clear waters near by this cove, where a limpid little stream emptied into the Great Lake.

Nick, they all noticed, stuck close to camp. It would have to be something very attractive that could induce him to wander far from his fireside, especially when the camp was pitched on Canadian soil, where they grew such queer kitties.

This time it was Jimmie who seemed destined to get into a peck of trouble. Jack always declared that there seemed to be an evil spirit forever hovering around their camp, looking for chances to accomplish his work; and let there appear the least kind of an opening, and he was ready to jump in.

Jimmie was not much of a hunter or fisherman, though able to do either on occasion. But he did have a little fancy for wild flowers, and liked to pry around on occasion, seeing what he could discover.

Now, at this late day in the season, he knew he was not apt to run across any of these pretty gems of the woods; but there seemed to be some sort of fascination about poking here and there examining a bunch of magnificent moss of a pattern he had never set eyes on before, measuring some giant ferns, and watching the antics of a family of squirrels. These had their home in an old hollow tree close by, and seemed filled with mild curiosity concerning the intruders on two legs that had taken up quarters so boldly adjoining the cove.

Herb and George were busily engaged with the balky engine, trying to find out just what ailed the thing, so that it could be remedied once and for all. In the end they felt positive that the blame could be located and effectually cured. At least it was to be hoped so; otherwise the Tramp would have to tow the larger boat back to the Soo, where the trouble could be abated at the hands of a machinist.

Josh, according to his custom, was pottering around the camp, making a better fireplace out of stones, at which he could carry out his part of the business with more comfort and dispatch. If they had been going to remain any length of time here, Josh would have constructed a “cooker” worth looking at; for he was an artist in this particular line.

Nick was apparently quite content to lie around, “getting up an appetite for the next meal,” as Josh sarcastically remarked.

“Just as if that were at all necessary,” was what the fat boy hurled back at him; and the argument was so clinching that Josh subsided on the spot; for no one had ever seen the time when Buster’s appetite needed to be coaxed.

Nick’s eyes finally alighted on the repeating gun which Jack had leaned against a tree at a point where it would be out of harm’s way. Now, Nick himself had seldom fired a gun, though ambitious to become a sportsman; because, as he wisely observed, “if I happened to be left in the woods some time, think I want to starve to death, with a gun in my hands, and plenty of fat game all around me? Not much!”