The Queen staggered, wabbled dangerously, and the wheel jerked out of Tom’s hands. He grabbed the spokes and held the bow steady as the Queen stumbled ahead. They could see the faces of the people on the beach now, saw the look of horror that spread over them as they saw the stove-in bow of the Queen. There were only two hundred feet to go but they were still in deep water.
The voice from the speaking tube rolled into the pilot house.
“Steam’s gone!”
On the echo of the words the steady beat of the engines slowed and it was only by clinging to the wheel with all of his strength that Tom held the Queen in to shore.
The bow was almost even with the water now. They seemed to be plowing their way into the depths of the lake. Then the bow lifted and grated on the sand. The momentum carried the Queen forward, shivering and protesting at every foot it was driven into the beach.
There was a wild scramble on the main deck, cries of relief and happiness as passengers by the score jumped into the knee deep water and ran for shore. The men, women and children on the upper deck hurried down the stairs while through it all the band kept up its steady blare, the crash of brass on brass and the constant thump, thump of the bass drum.
The danger past, Tom stepped back from the wheel. His arms felt as though they had been almost pulled from their sockets, so great had been the strain of holding the Queen on its course.
Helen and Margaret stripped off their life preservers and went down to the main deck with Tom. There they found Captain Billy and the crew of the Queen gathered at the bow of the boat. A great hole had been torn in the old steamer’s hull by the speed boat and Tom marveled that they had been able to make shore.
“Why didn’t we sink out in the lake?” he asked Captain Billy.
“Guess we might have,” smiled the captain, “but we managed to hold the speed boat in the hole it had made until we were most to shore. Otherwise we’d have filled and gone down inside a couple of minutes after they hit us.”