“I was only going to ask how long it took to launch the cutters. I’d like to know, and I’d also like to know what to do and how to do it at such a time. If anything had happened last night, I should have had no idea where to go.” Phil’s retort was prevented by the skipper.
“It’s always well to be prepared for emergencies, Ted. Mr. Adams, go to the bridge and give the signal to ‘abandon ship.’ I should like to see how quickly my crew can do the trick.” As the whistle shrieked the dread signal, coal-passers, firemen, oilers, and deck hands alike looked at one another in amazement, then dashed to the posts assigned them—some at the boat falls, others whisking off the canvas covers, while still others sprang into the boats to prevent the ropes from fouling as they were lowered into the water.
Watch in hand, Captain Perkins stood on the bridge looking aft.
“Starboard cutter, two minutes, ten seconds,” he announced through his megaphone. “Good work, boys!”
The other boats were in the water in less than four minutes, and the skipper was delighted with the result of the test.
“We must have our drills more often after this, Mr. Adams,” he said; then turning to Ted, he asked:
“Should you know what to do now?”
“Y-e-s, that is, I think so, if I knew which boat to go to.”
“If anything happens, which I hope there won’t, you boys make for the starboard cutter as fast as your legs can carry you.”
The remaining days before they sighted the harbour of Duluth were uneventful, the young homesteaders enjoying to the full the sensation of being for so many hours out of sight of land.