“When a lake boat sinks,” Cookie said somberly, “there ain’t many survivors, if any.”
“Why not, Cookie?” Sandy asked, surprised.
“That’s pretty cold water down there, that’s why. You don’t last very long in that water if it happens to be early spring or fall. I’ve seen ice floating in these waters as late as it is now.” He shivered a bit. “Cold water, boys. I remember once a feller I knew broke his leg and we didn’t have no medicines aboard to help ease the pain while we was setting it. So we just hauled up a bucket of cold Lake Superior water and stuck his leg in it a while. By gum, it got numb in no time. He didn’t feel a thing until after we’d got him all fixed up with a splint and bandages.”
Cookie got to his feet. “That’s one reason I never bothered to learn how to swim.” He looked at the sky. “Well, time to go below again. We ought to hit the Soo just before dark.”
He arose and walked over to the leeward, or starboard, side of the ship and began emptying his pipe. He leaned far over the rail to make sure that none of the still-glowing coals would land aboard ship.
As he did, a long, gathering swell from the wake of the car ferry that had overtaken and passed the James Kennedy struck the ship’s port stern with savage force. The Kennedy heeled slightly to starboard, and poor little Cookie, knocked off balance by the force of the blow, slithered over the rail.
With a long, wailing cry of despair, the little man plunged into the freezing-cold waters of Lake Superior.
CHAPTER SIX
Man Overboard!
“Man overboard!”
From fore and aft, from port to starboard, from every quarter of the James Kennedy’s great length, that ancient rallying cry of the sea arose.