Part 2 (1/2)

Jarvis, who was not far behind him, went through very much the same experience, save that he turned a somersault when he left the chute, landing flat on his back on the pile of ore. His feet drove against the side of the s.h.i.+p with the force of a battering-ram, backed by the full weight of the lad's body. The effect was nearly the same as it had been in the case of Rush. Bob was stunned. He, too, lay still, after curling up against the vessel's side.

”Hey, what's that?” a voice had shouted as the boys disappeared through the hatches.

”What's what?”

”I thought I saw something besides ore go through the chute in number seven hatch.”

”You're seeing things!”

”Maybe I am.”

”Close number seven hatch!” shouted the second mate, and the two deck hands, after the chute had been hoisted a little above the deck, slid the heavy hatch cover into place. All the ore that was needed had gone in through that hatch. The s.h.i.+p was nearly loaded. All that was now required was a few car-loads at the ends to trim the s.h.i.+p properly, after which she would be ready to sail.

Within the next ten minutes the rest of the ore had been s.h.i.+pped. With loud cras.h.i.+ngs, interspersed with hoa.r.s.e shouts, harshly-uttered commands and an occasional toot of warning from the s.h.i.+p's whistle, the hatch-covers were put in place and the s.h.i.+p made ready for her journey down the Great Lakes.

There followed a moment of inactivity; then came a blast of the whistle fully a minute in duration. It was the signal that the s.h.i.+p was about to back out of her slip, warning all other craft to keep clear.

The propeller began to churn the waters of the harbor and the ore carrier, with its cargo of ten thousand tons of iron ore, backed slowly out into the stream.

Bob Jarvis rolled over until he was practically standing on his head and shoulders. He toppled over on his back with a jolt that woke him up. The lad gave a kick and some one grunted.

”Hey, there, take your foot out of my stomach, whoever you are. Is that you, Bob?”

”I--I don't know. h.e.l.lo, Steve, that you?”

”I guess it's both of us. Ugh! My mouth is so full of ore that I can hard--hardly talk.”

”I've got a dark red taste in my own mouth. I've swallowed enough ore to make a steel rail. Do you know where we are?”

”We have fallen into the hold of a s.h.i.+p, and we are lucky that we are not dead.”

”Maybe we are and don't know it,” jeered Jarvis, pulling himself up. He tried to get to his feet, but the ore slipped from under him, leaving him at the bottom against the side of the vessel again.

”Quit it!” shouted Steve. ”Are you trying to bury me?”

The latter was on his feet too, brus.h.i.+ng the dirt from mouth, eyes, nose and ears. Bob had sent a quant.i.ty of it sliding down the chute.

”I can't help it. What's the matter with you? What do you think about this business?”

”I don't think, I know. We are in a nice fix.”

”Think so?”

”I told you I didn't think,” retorted Steve in a tone of slight irritation.

”Glad you admit it.”

”We have been dumped into the hold of an ore vessel. I don't know whether or not there is any way to get out, and it is sure that the hatches will not be opened again until the vessel reaches her destination.”

”How long will that be?”