"We'll meet the vessel that Morton fellow is on, this trip, Uncle Joe," went on Sam.

"How's that?"

"Well, we're going to Bay City, and the _Mermaid_ is coming to Detroit, according to the papers."

"Is that so?" asked the mate, suddenly interested. "I wonder where we'll pa.s.s her?"

"About Ludlow's Island," answered Sam, who was developing a good knowledge of the lakes.

"Ludlow's Island," repeated the mate. "The channel there is quite narrow. We'll have to pa.s.s quite close."

"Do you think he'll see you, Uncle Joe?"

"No--of course not. What does it matter? I'm not keeping out of his way. I had certain reasons for not wanting that officer to take me to court; that's why I leaped overboard that time."

"Oh," answered Sam, who had not heard the explanation given by Nat and the policeman.

"So we'll pa.s.s his vessel quite close," murmured the mate, when his nephew had left him. "That's my chance. If I can be left in charge of the wheel I think I can make Nat Morton wish he had never interfered with me. Let's see, we ought to get to Ludlow's Island to-morrow night. I hope it's dark or foggy."

Meanwhile, all unconscious of the perils in store for him, Nat was, that same day, guiding the vessel of which he was now officially the a.s.sistant pilot toward Detroit.

"It's going to be a thick night," said Mr. Weatherby, as Nat relieved him in the pilot-house, the evening of the day after the conversation set down above between Sam Shaw and his uncle. "I think there will be quite a fog before morning. Don't take any chances. If you're in doubt call me, but I'd like you to try your hand at taking the ship past Ludlow's Island. It's one of the worst places in the lake, and when you've been through that, in a fog, you're almost ent.i.tled to a pilot's license."

"I'll try it, Mr. Weatherby."

"That's the way to talk."

As the night came on the fog increased, until Nat decided he would slow down to half speed. The bell and whistle were kept going at regular intervals, and two men were stationed in the bow as lookouts.

It was close to midnight when Nat, who had decided to ask to be relieved, for he was a little doubtful of his ability under such bad conditions, saw through the haze another vessel approaching. He was in the narrowest part of the channel.

"There isn't time to send word to Mr. Weatherby now," he thought.

"I'll wait until I pa.s.s that ship. Then I'll go below, for I'm getting nervous here."

The two vessels were approaching nearer and nearer to each other. If Nat had been aware that the ship he was about to pa.s.s was the one on which was his enemy, the mate, doubtless he would have been more nervous than he was.

"He seems to be crowding too close over this way," thought Nat. "Guess I'll give him a caution signal."

He pulled the whistle wire sharply. Short blasts came forth from the _Mermaid's_ hoa.r.s.e siren. To Nat's surprise the other vessel, instead of keeping away from him, in the narrow channel, seemed to be coming closer.

"Doesn't he know enough to keep away, and on his own course?" said the young pilot half aloud.

He waited with an anxiously beating heart, and at the same time looked around to see if anybody else was near.

"Oh, if only Mr. Weatherby was here now!" he told himself. Never had he missed the old pilot so much as at this moment. For one instant he thought of yelling for a.s.sistance, but knew it would be useless, for his voice would not carry far enough. He was in sole charge and must do the best he could.

"Perhaps that other pilot is drunk," he murmured, and then shut his teeth hard. He was "up against it good and hard," and he realized it only too well. He trembled in spite of himself, and an icy chill began to creep up and down his backbone.

He gave another signal. Then, as he watched, he saw the prow of the other vessel turn toward him.

"He's going to ram me!" exclaimed Nat.

Quickly he gave another signal, and then he rang for full speed astern. But it was too late. With a crash the other vessel was upon him, though the result was different from what might have been expected.

The _Mermaid_ was a steel boat, while the _Liberty Bell_ was an old wooden one. Instead of the bow of the latter crashing into the hull of the pa.s.senger steamer, the bow of the freight boat crumpled up like paper, being smashed into kindling wood up as far as the pilot-house, part of which was demolished.

There was a confused ringing of bells and blowing of whistles, and then both vessels came to a stop.

CHAPTER XXV

b.u.mSTEAD'S ARREST--CONCLUSION

With the first sound of the crash Captain Turton and Mr. Weatherby were out of their berths, and on deck. The searchlight of the _Mermaid_ showed plainly what had occurred. Neither boat was dangerously damaged, the pa.s.senger steamer hardly suffering at all.

Captain Turton took this in at a glance, and then, with the a.s.sistance of the mates, he quieted the frightened pa.s.sengers.

"How did it happen, Nat?" asked Mr. Weatherby gravely.

"That fellow went wrong!" exclaimed Nat, in his nervous excitement.

"Whoever was steering that boat gave the wrong signals. I'm positive of that. Twice I warned him to keep away, but he kept crowding me closer, until he rammed me. It was his fault."

"There will have to be an investigation," said the pilot. "I'm sorry this happened."

"Ahoy the _Mermaid_!" came a hail from the other boat. "What's the matter with you fellows, anyhow? Can't you keep on your own side of the channel? My bows are stove in, and you've injured one of my men!"

"Who are you?" called back the pilot.

"Captain Carter, of the _Liberty Bell_."

"It was your steersman's fault," shouted Mr. Weatherby. "Are you in any danger?"

"No, but I'm going to lay-to until morning, and then I want to know who's going to settle for my damage."

"We'll see you in the morning, then," was the pilot's answer.

Nat pa.s.sed an uneasy night. Though he knew the fault of the collision was not his, he worried lest he might not be able to prove it. There might be an old pilot in the other vessel--a pilot up to all sorts of tricks, who, even if he was wrong, could so make matters appear as to throw the blame on Nat.

"If he does, that ends my career as a pilot," thought our hero.

Soon after breakfast Captain Turton, with the pilot and Nat, went aboard the other vessel. Her bow was quite badly damaged, but the break did not extend below the waterline.

"Did you say some of your men were injured?" asked Captain Turton, when he had greeted the commander of the _Liberty Bell_.

"Yes, sir, my mate, Joseph b.u.mstead. His leg is broken."