The Boy Pilot of the Lakes: or, Nat Morton's Perils

"I beg your pardon, my name is Turton," interrupted the commander of the Mermaid.

"Turton, I should say," corrected the court officer.

"Where is the person who made the charge – Bumstead the mate?" asked the harbor master.

"I have sent Officer Jenkins for him, sir. He'll be here directly. Ah, here is Jenkins now."

"Well, Jenkins," said the harbor master, "did you bring the mate back with you? This case has been delayed long enough."

"No, sir, I didn't bring him."

"Why not?"

"Because, sir, his ship has just sailed, and he's gone with her."

"I'll commit him for contempt of court!" exclaimed the harbor master. "Make out the papers at once," he added, turning to his clerk. "I will now take up this case, however, and proceed as far as possible. Give me the written accusation."

He looked over some papers, and, at a nod from him, Nat walked forward and stood in front of the big table. Then the harbor master read the complaint as made by Bumstead. It set out in a number of legal terms and phrases, that Nat Morton had, in violation of the regulations, piloted a vessel without having a license. The mate, it appeared, had heard of Nat's feat early that morning while the two vessels were docked, and had lost no time making his accusation, for mere spite.

"How do you plead to that?" asked the harbor master.

"I guess I did it," answered Nat.

"Perhaps you had better explain," suggested one of the other men present. "We will mark you 'not guilty' until we have heard the case."

Thereupon, Nat told all the circumstances connected with the sudden illness of Mr. Weatherby, the storm, the leak in the ship and the necessity for keeping on. Captain Turton was called and verified all that Nat said.

"Hum," remarked the harbor master. "There seems to be some justification here. I will consult with my colleagues on this. We will let you know our decision shortly. You may wait here."

He motioned to the men on either side of him, and they all retired to a rear room.

"What do you suppose they'll do to me?" asked Nat.

"Nothing very serious, I think," replied the captain, for he had been through such cases before, and he knew that harbor masters were disposed to stretch a point wherever possible.

"And Bumstead has got away again," went on Nat. "He stayed just long enough to file his complaint, and then skipped out. I wonder if he knows I am after him?"

"I think not," remarked Captain Turton, who had been told the circumstances of the lumber deal. "If he did he wouldn't venture to stay in the same port with you long enough to make a charge against you. Probably he wants to make all the trouble he can for you, in the hope that you will give up this ship life, and go somewhere so that he will not have to worry about you finding out about him."

"Perhaps," agreed Nat.

The harbor master and his colleagues filed back into the room. Nat tried to gather from their looks what disposition they had made of his case, but the men gave no indication, seeming to be as grave and serious as when they had gone out.

"Hum," mumbled the harbor master, in his deep voice. "We have considered your case, Nat Morton, and we wish to ask you a few questions."

Thereupon, Nat was put through a brief examination in relation to matters connected with piloting and the management of boats. The harbor master and his colleagues asked him a lot of questions, some of which Nat answered to his own satisfaction, at least. To others, more technical, he replied as best he could.

Fortunately his life about the docks, and his instructions at the hands of Mr. Weatherby, stood him in good stead. He showed a good practical knowledge of piloting, though some of the questions puzzled him, and his answers seemed to afford mirth to the harbor master and his associates.

"Well," remarked the harbor master after a pause, "what you did, Nat, may have been irregular – in fact it was irregular, and against the rules – but, under the circumstances, we cannot blame you for it. You are doing very well, and you know more, now, than many pilots who have a license. Still, you are under the age. When you reach the proper limit you will have to appear for an official examination. Until then you can go on as you have been doing, only don't try to handle a boat alone in a storm. Wait until you have had a little more experience. Then you can come up for examination, and get a full license. This case is laid over indefinitely."

"Does that mean I can go?" asked Nat.

"Yes, you can go," answered the harbor master with a smile. "And don't worry. We'll pass you, as soon as you are of the proper age. I congratulate you on your pluck," and then, to the surprise of his colleagues (for the harbor master was a somewhat gruff sort of a man), he leaned over and shook hands with Nat.

A little later Nat and Captain Turton were aboard the Mermaid. They found Mr. Weatherby much better, and when the repairs were completed, and the freight and passengers aboard, the ship steamed out of the harbor to resume her voyage.

CHAPTER XXI

NAT INTERVENES

One of the first things Nat did, when he had a chance to talk to Mr. Weatherby, was to repeat some of the questions that had been asked by the board of pilots, which queries the lad had not been able to answer properly.

"Those are the points I'm weak on," he said to his friend. "I must study up on them, so I'll be ready for my examination."

"That's right, Nat, and I'll help you all I can. There is a text book I want to get for you, and I will, at the next stop we make. Meanwhile, I think you can take charge in the pilot-house for a few days, until I get my strength back. I'll look in on you, every once in a while, to see that you are doing all right, and we're not likely to have another storm soon."

So Nat resumed his place at the wheel, being relieved now and then by Captain Turton or Mr. Weatherby, who took short shifts. In a few days the old pilot was entirely better, and then he and Nat divided up the work, the lad learning more about the points on which he had been puzzled during the examination.

The Mermaid had a large number of passengers this voyage, and Nat was kept pretty busy, in addition to his duties in the pilot-house. Some travelers, specially favored, occupied seats at the captain's table at meal times, and this made additional work for the lad, as he had to help the cabin steward. But Nat liked it all, and no task was too exacting for him to perform to the best of his ability. During his leisure moments he used to watch the passengers, and in this way he learned much about the life of the comparatively wealthy travelers.

One afternoon, when the ship was within a few hours of reaching port, Nat, going along the upper deck, passed a German youth, standing by the rail, looking down into the water, as it swept away from the bows of the Mermaid. The youth, whom Nat had noticed on several other occasions, because of his well-fitting clothes, appeared to be in rather low spirits.

"We're making pretty good time," said Nat pleasantly, for he often addressed the passengers, many of whom had formed a liking for the lad.

"Oh, yes, ve go fast enough," replied the German, who spoke with quite an accent. But he answered so gloomily, that the vessel might as well have been going backward, for all the satisfaction he derived from her speed.

"We'll soon be in port," went on Nat. "I suppose you'll be glad to get on shore. It's quite rough on account of the wind."

"Oh, it makes not so much difference to me," was the answer, and the youth did not smile. Indeed, he hardly lifted his face to glance at Nat, yet he did not seem to resent being spoken to.

"It's a nice day," went on the young pilot.

"Yes, I suppose for dem vot likes der vedder," came the answer. "But, ach– " and then the German murmured something to himself in his own language.

"I guess he doesn't feel well, or else he doesn't want to talk," thought Nat, as he passed on. "Maybe he's a bit seasick, though there's hardly any motion to-day."

Nat passed on, to attend to some of his duties. When he came back, about an hour later, the German youth was in the same place, moodily staring down into the water.

"I wonder what ails him?" thought Nat. "He acts queer. But that's the way with some Germans, the least little thing makes them moody, and then, again, they're as jolly as can be. But I suppose we are all queer, in one way or another."

He was half-tempted to speak to the youth again, as he passed him, but he did not want to be thought too forward, so he said nothing, nor did the German appear to notice our hero.

The vessel would arrive at port in about an hour, and would tie up there for the night. It was just getting dusk, and Nat was going from place to place on the ship, getting certain records of which he had charge, in shape for filing at the dock office. Several times he passed by the German, who stood in the same spot, and in the same position.

"He certainly is ill," mused Nat. "I guess I'll tell him we have a doctor aboard. Maybe he doesn't know it."

Nat was about to put his idea into execution, when Mr. Weatherby called him to perform some duty, and it was half an hour later when the young pilot made his way back again to where stood the youth in whom he had begun to feel considerable interest.

"I'll just tell him where to find the doctor," thought the boy, as he approached the place where the silent figure had been leaning over the rail. But, to his surprise, the youth was not there.

"He must have gone below," mused Nat. "Probably he feels better."

An instant later he saw a strange sight. In a sheltered corner, formed by an angle of a deck-house, stood the German youth, and in the dim light from a lantern Nat saw that he was removing his collar, tie, coat and vest. He was neatly folding his garments in a pile on the deck.

"He must be crazy!" thought Nat. "I'll call the captain."

As he watched, the youth finished putting his clothes in order. Then, with a deliberate step, the German approached the rail, placed his hand on it, and prepared to leap over.

"Suicide!" was the instant thought that came to Nat. "He's going to commit suicide! I must stop him!"

To think, with Nat, was to act. He sprang forward with a cry of warning.

"Here! Stop that! Come back!"

The German paused, hesitated an instant, glanced at Nat rushing toward him, and leaped. But he was a second too late. The young pilot grabbed him around the legs, and held on like grim death.

"What are you doing?" Nat cried. "Don't you know you'll be swept right into the propeller and be cut to pieces!"

"Let me go! Let me go!" insisted the youth in a low, intense whisper, as though he was afraid of being heard.

"Not unless you promise not to jump."

"I vill not make promises! I haf no use for to live! I vant to end it all! Let me go!"

He tried to escape from Nat's hold, but the young pilot had no gentle grip, and his arms were strong.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

The German was pleading now.

"Not much!" panted Nat. "You can't commit suicide from this boat."

The German continued to struggle. Nat felt the legs slipping away from him.

"If you don't give up I'll call for help, and the captain will put you under arrest!" threatened the young pilot. That seemed to quiet the German. He ceased to struggle, and became calmer.

"Vell," he said, in a voice that was choked with tears, "I gif up. I vill not jump overboard – now."

"Nor at any other time," insisted Nat.

"I cannot promise dot, but I promise you dot I vill not jump from dis boat. I care not to live longer."

Nat released his hold. The German was panting from his exertions, as he donned his garments. The affair had taken place in a secluded spot, and no one had seen Nat's intervention in the tragic episode.

"What's the matter?" inquired the young pilot, when the German was fully dressed again. "Are you sick? Why did you want to end your life?"

To his surprise the young fellow burst into tears, and sobbed pitifully.

"Come to my cabin," proposed Nat gently. "Perhaps I can help you."

"I – I like not to go vere der peoples see me."

"That's all right, I can take you to it by an outside companionway, and we'll meet no one. Come, and maybe I can help you. You seem to be in trouble."

"I am – in bad troubles," was the choking reply, as the youth followed Nat below.

CHAPTER XXII

AFTER BUMSTEAD

"Now then," said Nat cheerfully, when he and the youth he had saved from suicide were safely in the young pilot's cabin, "what is the matter? I don't want to pry into your affairs, but I would like to help you. If I can't, perhaps I can get some one who can. I know Mr. Weatherby or Captain Turton would be glad to aid you."

"You are of much kindness to me," replied the other, while he tried to regain control of his feelings. "My name is Hugo Kesterberg. I used to live in New York, where I did work in a German importing house. I have been in dis country not long, so I speak not der language so goot."

"I can understand you very well," said Nat.

"I haf a good place, und I am learning der business," went on young Kesterberg, "ven an uncle of mine, in der Vaterland, he die, und leave me vat you call legs – legs easy."

"Legacy," put in Nat.

"Yes, dot is him, legacy. Your American vords are so hard to speak right. Vell, he leaves me some money, but I am a such foolish fellow. Instead of putting my legs easy – I mean legacy – in der bank, I start in to have a goot time – I am vat you call a sport. I treat all my friends, und I get in vid a sporty crowd. I buy goot clothes, und I have lots of fun.

"Pretty soon, not long after I gets my legacy, der head of der firm vere I work, he say dey no longer needs me, for you see I am foolish, und I no longer look after my vork. But dot I lose my job make me not for to care. I still haf plenty of monies left, und I haf more good times."

"Then what is the trouble, if you have plenty of money?" asked Nat. "The trouble with most people is that they haven't got enough."

"Dot's me – exactly!" exclaimed Hugo. "I got to gambling und playing der races, und yesterday I found I haf not enough left, after I had been traveling about for some time, to pay my board for vun veek, in a decent place. I buys me a ticket on dis boat, for as far a distance as I haf money, und I decide I vill end it all. Und so I vould, only you stop me."

He added the last bitterly.

"Yes, I'm glad I stopped you, and you'll be glad too, before long," declared Nat firmly. "Why, you're no worse off than you were before. You had a lot of money, and you had a good time with it. Now you'll have to go back to work again."

"Ach! Dot's vat you Americans call der rubber," said the German.

"The rubber?" repeated Nat, a bit puzzled.

"I mean der rub – dot's vere der shoes nabs me – I mean pinch. I can't go back to my old place, und I don't know how to get vork in any odder place. Dere is no use for me to live. I makes an end to myself, ven ve gets to der port."

"No, you won't!" declared Nat. "If you don't promise not to try to commit suicide, for at least a week, I'll inform the police about you, as soon as we land, and they'll lock you up. It's against the law to take your own life or attempt it. If you wait a week you'll be all over the notion."

"A man's life iss his own – he can do vat he likes mit it."

"The law doesn't say so," replied Nat, who had gained his information from the newspapers.

"Vell, der law is wrong! I takes my own life!"

"Then you'll be arrested as soon as the boat lands."

"Arrest a Kesterberg!" exclaimed the German. "Dot vould be a disgrace."

"So would committing suicide."

The youth started. Evidently he had not thought of it in that light before.

"Vell, I promise you – for vun week."

"That's all right," said Nat briskly. "I'm satisfied. I know if you wait that long you'll be in a better frame of mind. Besides, I think I can help you. I'll speak to the captain and to Mr. Weatherby about you."

"But not about – not about – what I – "

"Oh, no, I'll say nothing about that," promised Nat. "But I know they can help you. Captain Turton is acquainted with lots of firms, and maybe he can get you a place with one of them."

"Den my troubles would be ofer," declared Hugo. "If I gets me a place to vork, nefer again vill I be so foolish again. If my people in Germany heard of vot I did, dey vould nefer forgive me."

"They're not likely to hear of it," said Nat. "Now you stay here until you feel better. We're going to land pretty soon, and I'll be busy. This evening I'll speak to the captain about you."

"But my ticket only takes me to dis port, und I haf no more money. I can't stay aboard."

"I'll fix that all right," declared the young pilot, who was beginning to feel quite important over what he had done, which, indeed, was no light matter, for he had given hope to a hopeless youth.

Captain Turton readily agreed to do what he could for Hugo Kesterberg, when, that evening, after all the freight and passengers had been discharged, Nat told as much of the case as it was necessary for the commander to know.

"I think I know a firm in Detroit that would be glad of his services," he said. "I'll give him a letter of recommendation to them, when we reach there, which will be at the end of the week."

"But – er – he hasn't any money left to pay his fare there," said Nat.

"That will be all right," replied Captain Turton. "I guess it won't break the company to give him a pass and his meals for a few days. Besides, I'm not going to let you get ahead of me in doing him a good turn."

Three days later, when the Mermaid reached Detroit, Hugo Kesterberg bade Nat, and his other friends aboard the ship, good-by. With a note of recommendation to a big firm, he could face the future in better spirits. Some time later Nat had a letter from the German youth, stating that he had a better position than the one in New York, and was doing well. The missive was full of thanks to Nat and Captain Turton.

Detroit was as far as the Mermaid was to go on the present voyage, and after taking on a big cargo, and quite a number of passengers, she turned about and began to traverse her way over Lake Huron again.

Captain Turton went ashore at the first port they made, after leaving Detroit, and when he came aboard again, he sought out Nat. The captain's manner betrayed some excitement.

"I have some news for you," he said to the young pilot.

"Am I going to be arrested again?"

"Not exactly. This concerns your enemy, Bumstead."

"Have they got him? Did he give up the money?"

"No, but I heard from a captain friend of mine ashore a little while ago, that the Spray is docked at Cove Point, about fifty miles above here. She had to lay up for repairs. She's an old boat and her engines are continually getting out of order."

"Are we going to stop there?" asked Nat eagerly.

"No, but I know what you are thinking of. There is a chance to cause the arrest of the mate, and here is my plan. You can take a train from here to Cove Point. The railroad runs quite near there. You have the warrant, made out by the police. Take that with you, and the authorities in Cove Point will make the arrest, I'm sure."

"But how can I get back to this boat?"

"I'll tell you. There is a train that leaves here at midnight, which will get you to Cove Point about two o'clock in the morning. The police are up at all hours. You can get them to serve the warrant at once, for Bumstead will probably be aboard the Spray at her dock. Then, after he is safe in jail, you can hire a boat to take you out, and I'll pick you up as I pass. I'll be on the watch for you to-morrow morning."

The plan was very feasible, and Nat thanked the captain for his thoughtfulness. He made his arrangements hurriedly, and began to have visions of recovering the money that was rightfully his.

"Be out about two miles beyond the point at about nine o'clock to-morrow morning," the captain called to him, as Nat left. "That's the time I'll pass, and as close in as I can run."

"I'll be there waiting for you," promised Nat.

"Good luck!" called the pilot. "I hope you get him. That Bumstead is getting to be as slippery as an eel."

"I'll get him, if he's there," declared the lad.

Then he hurried to the railroad station to get his ticket, for it was after ten o'clock, and the depot was some distance from the water front.

CHAPTER XXIII

BUMSTEAD ESCAPES

When Nat found himself in the train, speeding toward Cove Point, he had a chance to think how he should proceed after he arrived. He anticipated no difficulty in getting a policeman to go to the boat and arrest the mate.

"Maybe Sam Shaw will want to take a hand, and fight me," thought Nat. "Well, if he does, I'll give him all that's coming to him."

The train was a slow one, and made a number of stops. When about half way on the journey there was a delay, caused by the wreck of a freight train, and it was nearly three o'clock when Nat arrived at the railroad station in Cove Point. This was a small town, depending for its existence on what traffic passed up and down the lake, and what little patronage came to it over the railroad.

"Where's the police station?" asked Nat of a sleepy man at the depot.

"They don't allow tramps to sleep in it any more," was the rather queer answer.

"Tramps? Who asked anything about tramps?" replied Nat. "I don't want to sleep there."

"Oh, excuse me," said the agent, opening his sleepy eyes a bit wider. "I didn't take a good look at you. I thought you were a tramp. Lots of 'em come in on our trains, and want to spend the night at the police station. They'd let themselves be arrested because the sheriff used to get so much a prisoner. But the county authorities put a stop to it. What's the matter? Some one rob you?"

"No," replied Nat, determined to keep his affairs to himself.

"Some crime been committed?" persisted the agent, for he thought it was rather unusual for a boy to be asking his way to the police station at three o'clock in the morning.

"I want to see a policeman," replied Nat, "and I thought the best place would be the station house."

"There used to be a policeman stationed here nights," went on the agent. "But he's gone now. If it was anything about the railroad I could attend to it for you."

"No, thank you. If you'll tell me where the station house is, I'll be much obliged."

The agent seemed disappointed, but he gave Nat the directions.

"I don't see what harm it would have done him to have told me," murmured the man, when Nat had gone off down the dark street. "It would help to keep me awake, if I had something like a crime or an arrest to think about. Well, I might as well doze off; it'll be two hours before the down freight is in," and he composed himself as comfortably as he could in his chair in the telegraph office.

Meanwhile, our hero managed to find the police station. Inside there was a sergeant on duty, who looked up inquiringly as Nat entered.

"Well?" he asked.

"I have a warrant for a man's arrest."

"Are you a detective from some other city? Where's your badge?" asked the sergeant suspiciously.

"No, I'm not a detective. I'm the person who made the complaint on which this warrant was issued," and Nat showed the one which had been returned by Mr. Scanlon.

The sergeant seemed impressed by the boy's business-like manner.

"Come inside," he invited, opening a gate in a railing that shut off the part of the room behind the desk. "Now tell me about it."

Nat told his tale as briefly as possible.

"And you want me to send an officer out to the ship with you, and arrest the mate?" inquired the sergeant when the young pilot had finished.

"If you will."

"Guess we'll have to, under the law. I'll be glad to help you out. It's a mean trick to take money in that fashion. Hey, George! I say, George! Get up, here's a case for you."

"What's that?" inquired a sleepy voice from a room back of the sergeant's desk.

"You've got to go out and arrest a man."

"Oh, can't somebody else go? I arrested a feller last night. I ain't going to do all the work in this police station."