As the line was all paid out and the log was churning through the water, the watchman pointed to the scale-like indicator.
“Just look at that pointer and you’ll see,” he replied. “The log pulls on the line, which, in turn, pulls on the scale, and the number to which the indicator points is the speed we are making. It’s easier to read than the old-fashioned wooden log.”
“It points to ten, now,” declared Ted.
“She’ll go higher as soon as No. 3 gets back into commission. We average between fourteen and fifteen knots an hour, empty.”
“How fast loaded?” asked Phil.
“Between ten and twelve; depends on the wind and currents.”
“How long do you keep the log overboard?” inquired the younger boy.
“All the time except when we enter a harbour, or the canal, and going through the Detroit and St. Mary’s rivers.”
“Why not then?”
“Because the navigation rules compel us to slacken speed and there are too many boats to be passed. Hooray, it’s grub time,” he added, as a boy in white coat and apron passed along the deck ringing a big bell.