“Partly. The storms, when we do get them, are terrible. But the worst thing is the fog—it comes as suddenly as the big winds on Erie. See that light-house off the port bow?” And the skipper pointed to a column, painted white with a red pinnacle, which was just visible on the end of a barren promontory. “Well, that’s White Fish Point Light-house, and there is nothing but white sand and scrub pine for miles in any shore direction. About thirty miles southwest of the light-house is an uncharted reef, at least it was uncharted five years ago, and that’s the time I’m going to tell you about.
“I was bound down on the Queen, a little two-hundred-and-fifty-foot tub, loaded with every ounce of copper we dared put in her. It was early in December—owners took chances then running later into the winter that they don’t take now—and it was bitter cold.
“Masts, cabins, deck, and rails were coated with ice, but the day broke clear, after a misty snow. I was crowding the old tub because I knew if the cold held, I’d be ice-bound at the Soo and unable to get through.
“Suddenly, along near the middle of the forenoon, a fog settled down on us, almost before you could say the words. I slackened speed a trifle, but not much, because I was afraid of ice. For three hours we plugged along, blowing our fog-horn and holding our course, as we thought.
“All at once there sounded a series of reports, short and sharp, as though somebody was exploding several sticks of dynamite, one at a time. I knew quick enough we’d grounded, but before my first mate or I could speak, there came a long, grating sound and the old tub began to settle.
“I tell you, it didn’t take us long to get into my cutter, the crew only numbered twenty all told, and pull away from the Queen. We hadn’t gone more than nine or ten fathoms when the old tub went down.
“Well, the fog still held and we knew we were off our course, but we rowed and we rowed and we rowed. It seemed as though it grew colder every minute, and after we’d rowed about six hours, the men’s hands and feet began to freeze. But we kept at it.
“Some of the men began to whine that we were rowing straight out into the lake, and when darkness came, with no shore in sight, I admit I lost heart. However, I didn’t let my men know it, and just nine hours after we took to the cutter, we caught the flash from old White Fish—and perhaps it didn’t look good! The next day, we got word to the Soo and a tug was sent for us.”
“What became of the Queen?” asked Phil, when a long pause announced that the captain had finished his story.
“You saw that boat to which I tooted three times as we passed out of the canal? Well, that is the Queen. The next summer, divers found she was only in some thirty feet of water. Her cargo, what there was left, was lightered; she was raised, dry-docked, fitted with new plates, and the first mate who was with me then is now her master.”