During this conversation the chief had turned the stop-cock to its rightful position.
“Water’s rising in No. 8’s glass,” shouted the assistant engineer from the hatch. “Found the trouble?”
“Yes.”
“What was it?”
“Tell you by and by.”
The trick which had put the splendid vessel and her crew in such jeopardy was so simple that the chief did not dare announce it, lest some of the crew should hear it and perhaps repeat the operation in the event of their becoming disgruntled.
The trouble remedied, the oiler was taken on deck, the coal passers and firemen returned to their stations, the fire was rekindled under No. 8, the first mate returned to the bridge, and soon the Admiral was bowling along at her usual speed.
As the boys walked forward with the skipper, Ted noticed a steel cable, fully half an inch in diameter, that extended from the cabins forward to the deck houses aft.
“What’s that for, Captain?” he inquired. “I noticed it before, but I forgot to ask about it.”
“We call it our ‘trolley.’ It’s really a life line. When we are loaded, we have only a couple of feet free board. If a bad storm comes up, the waves pour over the deck and it is dangerous work to walk from one end of the boat to the other. In such weather, and especially in the fall, when the deck is ice-coated, the men sling a bo’s’n’s chair to a wheel, place the wheel on the cable, and slide back and forth.”