Indeed this seemed likely to happen, for the line was very strong, and the lad had tied it securely about his wrist. It could not slip over his hand, and the fish on the other end was tugging away for dear life.

Doubtless it would have been glad enough to escape, but it was fairly caught, for as they afterward found, it had swallowed Ned's bait, hook and all.

"Let go!" yelled Ned to Bart, who was clinging to his waist.

"If I do you'll go overboard!" replied Bart. He felt his chum slipping from his grasp. "Give me a hand here!" Bart called to Fenn and Frank.

They jumped to his aid, while Mr. Ackerman, in an excess of nervous fright, ran up and down the deck shouting:

"Captain! Captain Wiggs! Stop the ship! A shark has got hold of one of the boys!"

"What's that? What's the trouble?" asked the commander, hurrying up from the cabin.

"A shark has got Ned!" repeated the invalid.

"Shark? In Lake Huron?" replied the commander. "You're crazy!"

"Guess it must be a whale, by the way it pulls," said Bart.

"It's one of the big lake fish!" exclaimed the captain. "They're as strong as a pony. Wait, I'll cut the line!"

"No, don't!" begged Ned, who, now that his three chums had hold of him, was in no danger of going overboard, though the thin, but tough cord, was cutting deep into his wrist, where he had foolishly tied it.

"Here, lend a hand!" called Captain Wiggs to a sailor who was pa.s.sing.

The man grabbed the line with both hands and soon was able, with the help which Frank and Fenn gave him, to haul in the fish. It seemed as if they really had a shark on the end of the line, but, when the finny specimen was gotten on deck, it was seen that it was not as large as the boys had imagined.

"Who would have thought it was so strong?" asked Ned, rubbing his chafed wrist.

"The speed of the boat had something to do with it," said the captain.

"You were pulling on the fish broadside I guess, but it is a very strong species even at that. They're not often caught on a hand line."

"Are they good to eat?" asked Ned, wishing to derive some benefit from his experience.

"Some folks like 'em, but they're a little too strong for me," answered the captain. "However, I think the crew will be glad to get it?" and he looked questioningly at the sailor who had helped land the prize.

"Yes, sir," replied the man, touching his cap. He took the fish to the galley, where the cook prepared it for the men's dinner. The boys tasted it, but did not care for the flavor.

"Aren't you going to fish any more?" asked the captain, as he saw Ned coiling up his line, after the fish had been taken away.

"That's enough for one day," was the boy's reply. "The other fellows can, if they like. My wrist is too sore."

"Lucky you didn't tie the line to your toe," said Frank.

"Why?"

"Because you'd probably be walking lame now, if you had. As it is you can't sign any checks for a while, I s'pose."

"Oh, you and your checks!" exclaimed Ned, in no mood to have fun poked at him.

"Moral! Don't go to sleep while you're fishing," said Bart.

"Well, I did better than you fellows did. You didn't get anything,"

retorted the fisherman.

CHAPTER XIII

CAUGHT IN THE LOCK

Ned, at the suggestion of the captain, put some salve on his wrist, for the cord had cut through the flesh. Then he had Bart bandage it up. This done the boys resumed their seats near the after rail, and talked about Ned's exciting catch.

"I hope you don't try such a thing again," remarked Mr. Ackerman, as he came back from his cabin. "It's a little too much for my nerves." He sank down in a deck chair, and the boys noticed that he was quite pale.

He seemed unable to get his breath.

"Would you mind--would one of you mind, reaching in my pocket and getting a bottle of smelling salts that I carry," he asked. "I think if I took a sniff I'd feel better."

"I will," volunteered Fenn, for Mr. Ackerman's hands hung limply by his side, and he seemed incapable of helping himself.

"Is this it?" asked Fenn, as he reached in the upper right hand pocket of the invalid's vest and pulled out a small bottle.

"No--no," was the answer, half whispered. "That is my headache cure. I think it must be in the lower pocket."

Fenn replaced the headache cure and explored the lower right-hand vest pocket.

"Is this it?" he inquired, drawing up a small box.

"No, no--my dear young friend--those are my liver pills. Try again. I think it must be on the other side."

He still seemed too weak to raise his hands. Ned was about to call Captain Wiggs, but Fenn made another try.

"I have it!" he exclaimed, pulling out a shining metal tube.

"No--no," said the invalid faintly, opening his eyes and looking at what Fenn held up. "That's my asthma cure. Try the next pocket, please."

"Say, he'll kick the bucket if Fenn doesn't find that medicine pretty soon," whispered Frank. "Guess I'll help him."

Fenn began a search of the lower left-hand vest pocket. He brought up a bottle, containing a dark liquid. Wishing to make sure he had the right stuff, he smelled of it, before asking Mr. Ackerman to open his eyes and look at it.

"Is that it?" whispered Ned.

"Smells bad enough to be it," was Fenn's answer.

"No, no. You haven't got it yet," spoke the invalid, in peevish tones.

"That is my heart remedy. I must kindly ask you to try again. I remember now, it's in my right-hand coat pocket."

Fenn replaced the heart cure and made one more attempt. This time he brought up a short, squatty, round bottle.