"Nice crew of lubbers," growled the captain, when informed of the assistant cook's indisposition.
The ship reached Duluth at night and immediately was shunted into the slip at the ore docks for loading. After the hatches were down a huge crate was hoisted aboard with a crane. A section of the deck was opened up and the crate was let down into the lazaret. The crate was consigned to one of the company's officials in the East. No one paid any attention to the crate, and it is doubtful if any one save the captain and the first mate knew what the contents of the crate were.
Hatches were battened down and long before daylight the "Richmond" was on her way again. By this time the "jabble" had increased to a full gale. No other ship ventured out, but Captain Simms was not a skipper to be held back by the weather. He knew his ship was seaworthy and he knew full well how to handle her safely in any sea that the lakes could kick up. A full northwester was raging down from the hills and the glass was falling all the time. The "glass" is the sailor's name for barometer.
Steve took the wheel as they passed out, and he was obliged to give up the wheelman's stool because he could not keep it right side up under him. He dragged a platform over to the wheel. It was made for the purpose, having cross-cleats on it to enable the helmsman to keep his footing when the ship was cutting up capers.
"There," he announced, "I'll stick here until the wheel comes off."
Waves broke over the vessel continuously, striking the deck with reports like those of distant artillery. Superior was a dreary waste of gray and white. The air seemed full of the spume of the crested rollers, while the clouds were leaden and threatening.
"Look at the rainbow!" cried Bob, pointing off to the westward.
"That ain't a rainbow you landlubber," jeered a companion.
"Well, if it isn't I never saw a rainbow."