“But how can you know to what depth to load?” asked the elder of the boys.
“An association, to which the owners or managers of the principal fleets belong, maintains men at the various shoals and bars who report the depth of the water night and morning. At the canal the information is furnished by the United States Government. Knowing the length of time, under ordinary conditions, it will take a carrier to cover the distance between the loading ports and the points involved, the captains load in accordance with the latest reports, which are always telegraphed them.”
“A captain is compelled to know a lot of things, isn’t he?” exclaimed Ted.
“Right you are—and his mates as well. He must know the locations of the light-houses, with their various kind of lights—revolving, steady, two-colored, long or short flash, and the rest—of the harbour and channel lights, and buoys. We don’t have any pilots come aboard to take us into harbour, as the salt-water boats do. Every captain and first mate must qualify as a pilot as well as a navigating officer before he can obtain his ‘papers’ as they call the license issued by the United States Government to sail a ship.”
“Crickey, it’s no easy job, I should think,” declared Phil.
“You’ll be sure of it when we have passed through the Detroit and St. Mary’s rivers,” smiled Mr. Adams, as he turned to set the deck hands at work washing away the coal dust from deck and cabins, while the boys went to breakfast.
“Look, look, there’s land again!” cried Ted, when they returned to deck, and hurrying to the bridge, they asked what it was.
“Canada,” replied Mr. Adams.
“The first foreign country I ever saw,” exclaimed the boy, as both he and Phil studied it closely.
“You’ll see enough of it until we pass the Soo,” returned the mate. “We’ll be so close to it going up the St. Mary’s you can toss a pebble ashore.