“Nonsense, Briggs! Who else have you got down there?”
“Just myself and those two high school brats.”
Captain West fell silent. He frowned. The ship shuddered and he was forced to grab Sam’s shoulder for support. Below, he could see the angry waters sweeping down the decks while the crewmen clung in terror to the rail. Many of them, he noticed, had wrapped lines around their waists and secured them to the railing. But there just weren’t enough of them—and that hatch, yawning like a fatal hole in the ship’s armor, just had to be closed! If it was not, if it grew larger, then the lake water would pour through. It would saturate the tons and tons of ore that lay in the typical ore freighter’s single huge hold. The weight of the James Kennedy would be at least doubled, and the merest ripple or slightest breeze might suffice to send her plunging to the bottom!
No, that hatch must be sealed! Every available hand was needed to do it, and quickly, even though they might belong to the most troublesome pair of youths Captain West had ever known.
“Send them up, Mr. Briggs,” he ordered, and turned to give additional orders to the wheelsman, Sam.
Below, Mr. Briggs aimed a thumb at his “prisoners” and grunted, “Get up to Number Four hatch on the double. You heard the captain, so you know what’s wanted. Take a crowbar there, and you both better have a line.” He leered. “If you want to get to Buffalo, you’d better tie yourself to the rail up there and hang on tight.”
Without a word, Sandy Steele and Jerry James seized coils of rope from hooks along the passageway. Then Sandy grasped a crowbar and the two hastened topside.
CHAPTER ELEVEN
The Big Blow
Sandy could not suppress a gasp of astonishment the moment he emerged on deck and felt the smashing power of that screaming wind, and sensed, rather than felt, the awesome force of those mountainous seas thundering down on the James Kennedy with the crunching sound of huge boulders colliding. There was water everywhere, pelting down from above in the rain and rising in great shafts of spray and spume as the waves cracked and crashed on the wallowing freighter.
Jerry James was aghast. He opened his mouth and shouted something at Sandy, but the wind tore the words from his mouth. The two boys were forced to talk in gestures. Sandy laid down his crowbar, placing a foot on it to keep it from rolling over the side. Then he pointed to the rail. He wound his rope around his waist. Next, he looped it over the railing, before fashioning a good strong slipknot. He backed off a few feet, the muscles of his calves straining to maintain a purchase on the slippery, heeling decks. Carefully, he tugged. The rope held. He nodded at Jerry and his friend followed suit. Once, just before Jerry had finished, the black-haired youth looked up and saw, in fright, a huge wave bearing down on them amidships. It struck the side just as the James Kennedy rolled away from it—luckily for the two youths.