Third Warning Page 6

  CHAPTER VI CHIPS

  Early as it was, when she came on deck next morning Florence found theslim, gray-haired man in a steamer chair.

  "Now that we've found you," she said with a laugh, "what do we do withyou?"

  "Just anything," he smiled.

  "That's easy."

  "Where do you go from here," he asked, "and what do you do?"

  "We touch at the old lighthouse, where we tell the fishermen that thefire is pretty bad, but that we know hundreds of men are coming to fightit, and we feel sure they'll win."

  "And after that?" He was still smiling.

  "Rock Harbor Lodge is next. We tell them the same thing. Then Tobin'sHarbor. We'll tell them not to worry; that if the fire threatens them,we'll be right there to take them off."

  "And what do you get for all this?" he asked.

  "Nothing," she smiled back at him. "That is, no money--justsatisfaction--heaps and heaps of satisfaction."

  "Then," he looked at her in a puzzling manner, "after you've done theseacts of kindness, you might run us round to McCargo's Cove and pick upour small boat. We left it there. You shall be paid in cash for thisservice," he added with a laugh.

  "And then?" she queried.

  "Do you return to the mainland?"

  "We must, for fuel and possible passengers."

  "Then we'll ride there with you. More money!" he laughed happily. "Why,you'll be rolling in wealth!"

  "At least," she agreed, "we can pay for our fuel, and that's something!"

  As they made the rounds of fishing villages and lodges that day, it wasthe same old story--worried, anxious faces and whispered rumors ofdisaster for all of them in the near future. This brought the_Wanderer's_ crew a harvest of a sort. Lodge guests were anxious to leavethe island. It became evident that when the boat headed for Houghton itsdecks would be lined with paying passengers. This brought a happy smileto the big girl's face. "Perhaps," she was thinking, "things will not beso bad after all."

  As for Jeanne, she was the life of the party. Donning a pair of coverallsmiles too large for her, she staged a ludicrous dance she called "TheDeckhands Promenade."

  When at last guests dragged a fiddle and a guitar from their baggage andsent a wailing, thumping tune drifting across the dark waters, shedisappeared, to come popping out in her silver robe, and to execute atrue gypsy dance that charmed her small audience.

  "Jeanne, you are a grand prize!" Florence exclaimed when she hadfinished. "If only there were no fire, and this were a regular summer,you would charm all those land-loving people into a visit to our islandjust to see you dance!"

  "Ah, well," Jeanne replied soberly, "perhaps I shall yet dance before theflames and lead them into the waters where they will drown."

  "Yes," Florence agreed, with a laugh, "the way the Pied Piper led therats into the sea."

  Truly, things were looking up a little for young Skipper Dave and hiscrew. One thing was disturbing. Wherever they docked they heard thiscomplaint, hundreds of men were arriving to fight the fire, the_Iroquois_ was bringing them, but there was lack of organization and verylittle was being accomplished.

  "If only Chips was here," said a grizzled fisherman, as Dave and Florenceleft his dock. Strangely enough, they heard this again and again, alwaysspoken by old men and with great respect, "If only Chips was here. Ifonly Chips--"

  Dave exclaimed at last, "I'd sure like to be that man Chips! Wonder ifhe's real, or only a myth."

  "Wait and see," said Florence.

  If Florence had hoped that the gray-haired man whom they had rescued insuch a dramatic manner, with his granddaughter, from Greenstone ridge,would, before leaving the boat, reveal his identity, she was doomed todisappointment. After paying his bill he gave directions for having hisboat and other belongings taken ashore, then lost himself in the crowdthat lined the dock seeking information regarding the fire.

  "We haven't seen the last of him," Dave prophesied. "He wasn't on theisland just for a vacation, you may depend upon that."

  Was Dave right? What would that mean to their young lives if he were. Tothese questions Florence could form no answers.

  "Took in one hundred and forty dollars this trip," Dave exulted as hewalked into town with Florence. "First thing we know we'll be makingmoney!"

  Would they? For once Florence dared hope. Perhaps this fire was ablessing in disguise. With the _Iroquois_ off the run, with army officersand park officials in a hurry to reach the island, and with a few daringsouls still ready to spend a short vacation on the island, it did seemthat they might hope. And yet, before nightfall hope had vanished.

  It was two hours after they had docked. Florence was busy tidying up hergalley when a gay party of six, three men and their wives, all attired inthe latest sports togs, appeared on the dock.

  "Is this the boat that goes to Isle Royale?" they asked.

  "Yes, but--" Florence hesitated, "perhaps you haven't heard--the island'son fire."

  "Oh, yes, we've heard," one of the women enthused. "That makes it all themore exciting. When do we sail?"

  "Tomorrow evening at eight o'clock is our regular time."

  "Six round trip tickets," the girl was thinking. "Sixty dollars. Andperhaps--yes, there were three young officers coming down thedock--ninety dollars. Wonderful!"

  But wait! There was a disturbance--the stout man who had taken such adislike to Florence and Dave that first day of the fire, drew one of thesix would-be passengers aside. Florence did not hear what he said, but,with a sinking heart, she saw him pointing to a large speedboat tied upat a smaller dock.

  The man returned. There was a conference among the six prospectivepassengers. Florence caught only the words, "Speedboat! How thrilling!"

  Turning to Florence, the little lady with the shining eyes said in anapologetic voice, "I--we're so sorry, dear. We've decided to take thespeedboat. Think of it! We can be over there in two hours, and it will beso thrilling!"

  Florence made no reply. What was there to say? There was a sinkingfeeling at the pit of her stomach. Her shoulders drooped. "So that's it!"she thought. "That man's going into competition with us. He's gotinfluence. He'll see that our license to carry passengers is not renewed.And yet," her body stiffened, "he can't keep us from serving the peopleof the island. We can still stand by."

  Then a strange thing happened. As the sunlight slowly receded from thesummit of Copper Range, a short, stout man appeared on the dock. ToFlorence his dress seemed odd. A broad-brimmed black hat, blue shirt,overalls, cut off six inches from the ground and not hemmed, and hightopped boots of coarse leather clothed the man. What he said gave her astart.

  "I'm Chips."

  "Mr. Chips!"

  "Just plain Chips," the man corrected. "I want to go to Isle Royale."

  "Yes," the girl exclaimed. "They want you and need you. The island is inflames."

  "I know. When do we sail?" Chips was all business.

  "Why, ri-right away." Florence took one bold fling at life. What wouldDave say? Turning about, she set her boat whistle waking echoes among thesun-tipped hills.

  Dave came on the run. "What's the rumpus? What's up?" he demanded.

  "This," she said, with as much dignity as she could command, "this isChips. The island needs him. We're sailing as soon as possible, thatis--" her voice trailed off, "if you're agreed."

  Dave said, "O. K. by me," and it was done. One passenger. Ten dollars.

  This was not the last unusual incident of that day--there was more tocome. Chips had gone for his luggage. Florence was slowly pacing the deckwhen a girl shorter and broader than herself appeared before her on thedock.

  "I am Katie," said the girl. Florence knew she must be a Finlander.

  "Katie who?" Florence smiled.

  "I am Katie Eskelund," said the girl. "And I am going to Isle Royale."

  "What place on Isle Royale?" Florence asked.

  "Siskowit Bay." The girl lowered a heavy blanket roll to the d
ock.

  "She's strong," Florence thought, "strong as a man. How she could send aboat through the water!"

  "Siskowit?" she said. "There are no women there. Only men and boys."

  "My brother is there," said Katie. "He is fighting fire. I shall staywith him. I can fight fire."

  "Why! They won't let you," Florence exclaimed. "It's a boys' camp!"

  "So-o," the Finnish girl's face clouded. "But my brother is there," sheinsisted. "We are twins."

  "Oh!" Florence had some notion of what it meant to be a twin. She wantedto help this girl. But how?

  Seized by a sudden inspiration she demanded, "Can you cook? Can you makepasties?"

  "Oh, yes! Very good pasties."

  Pasties! How Florence's mouth watered. Good little turnover pies allfilled with meat, made only as the people of strange little Finland knewhow.

  Just then Dave came up from below. "Dave," Florence smiled in spite ofherself, "do you think we could use a cook on the _Wanderer_?"

  "We--we might," Dave seemed a little puzzled. "Come to think of it," headded after a brief pause, "it would help. Looks to me as if we werestepping into something rather big. May be a day-and-night affair beforewe're through. You're O.K. for a cook but not twenty-four hours a day.And Jeanne, she's fine, but a bit of a butterfly, don't you think?"

  "Perhaps," Florence agreed, "anyway I want you to meet Katie. She's nobutterfly." Katie grinned good-naturedly. "She wants to be our cook. Shecan make pasties."

  "Pasties. Oh! Boy!" Dave grinned. "Sure. Take her on."

  "I can make bread, too," Katie volunteered eagerly. "Saffron buns andeverything!"

  Florence did not know what saffron buns were, but decided she could standthem at least once.

  "All right," she said, with a note of finality, "you are hired. Thenperhaps you will see your brother now and then. You shall be our cook.That is," her voice dropped, "if you want to."

  For answer, Katie Eskelund tumbled her blanketroll over the rail. That ishow the _Wanderer_ came by a new cook. And she was a cook indeed!

  At eleven o'clock that same night Florence awoke. She was wide-awake. Afeeling that all was not well disturbed her. What could it be? Were theyhaving engine trouble? Had there been tampering on board? No, the motorthrobbed sweetly. Was there a storm? Only a choppy sea that should haverocked her to sleep.

  A breath of cold air brushed her cheek. Her stateroom door was open. Howcome? She sat up. The roll of the boat had banged it open. But look! Shenow stared away at the black waters. Had she caught a gleam of light outthere? It did not seem probable. They were halfway across the lake,thirty-five miles from anywhere. And yet--yes, there it was! She saw itplainly now.

  "It blinks!" she exclaimed aloud. "Distress signal! Oh, dear!" shesighed. "It seems as if the whole world's in trouble."

  Hurriedly drawing on dressing gown and slippers, she climbed out into thechill air of night to find Dave in the pilothouse.

  "Dave," she said, "there's a light out there. It blinks as if someonewere in trouble. We--We'll have to put about and go to his aid, won'twe?"

  "Yes, I--I suppose so."

  "I'm going to make a big pot of coffee." Dave twisted the ship's wheel,turning the _Wanderer_ toward the signaling light.