CHAPTER XVIII
NAT'S PLUCKY PILOTING

"I hope so, for I want that money. When I didn't know I was to get any I was pretty well satisfied, but now that I have heard of this legacy, it seems as though I ought to get it."

"And so you shall. But I must telegraph to Mr. Scanlon. I don't believe we can ask him to do any more for us. He probably wants to continue on to New York. Besides, we can't inform him where to look for Bumstead. I'll just wire, thanking him, and tell him we'll look after the rascal now."

"I guess that's the only plan."

A message was sent to Mr. Scanlon, and by that time the Mermaid was ready to proceed. The indications of the storm became more pronounced, but it did not break that night.

Day after day slipped by and Nat kept steadily at work, learning all about piloting that was possible. It was wonderful how quickly he acquired the art of navigation.

"The boy was born to it," declared the old pilot to the captain. "He knows as much about it already as many assistants who have been at the wheel for ten times as long."

Mr. Weatherby was far from well, and Nat noticed that he could not keep at the wheel as steadily as before. One evening when a heavy storm was brewing the old pilot said every bone in his body ached.

"Guess I'm in for a spell of sickness, sure," he remarked.

"Can't you take some medicine?" asked Nat, sympathetically.

"Yes."

Mr. Weatherby took a large dose of quinine, so large that he was unable to remain in the pilot-house after midnight, but as the route was over a course he had previously traveled, Nat had no difficulty in steering the big vessel, with occasional help from Captain Turton.

"Well, Nat, how did you make out?" Mr. Weatherby asked him the next morning.

"Pretty well. I was a bit frightened at first, and I was afraid I would forget some of the signals, or read the lights wrong, and pile the boat up on an island or a bar, but I didn't."

"Glad to hear it. I was a little anxious about you. Now whatever you do, when you're in the pilot-house, don't lose your nerve. Just say to yourself that you're going to succeed, and bring the ship through, and you'll do it."

"There's more responsibility here than on a freighter."

"Indeed, there is! Think of all the human lives entrusted to your care. That will make you keep your nerve in case you get in a critical place. But you did very well, and I'm proud of you."

"How are you feeling this morning?"

"Pretty well. I can take my trick now. You'd better turn in and get some sleep. You may have to take part of the watch again to-night."

Nat did go to his bunk, after breakfast, but he did not stay there long. One of the cabin stewards was injured by a fall down a companionway, and Nat had to turn in and do this man's work. The result was the boy was kept busy nearly all day, occasionally taking a turn at the wheel.

Once, when he relieved Mr. Weatherby for a few minutes, while the pilot went below to take some medicine, he remarked to his benefactor:

"You don't look very well."

"And I don't feel very well, Nat. But I'm trying to stick it out. We've got a hard part of the lake ahead of us, a part where there are more islands than you can shake a stick at, and I don't like to go through there. But we've got to do it."

"But how can you, if you're sick?"

"Pilots, as well as other persons, can't always do as they would like to. I guess I'll be all right. But I don't like the weather. The longer this storm holds off, the worse it's likely to be. However, there's no use worrying. I'll be back in a few minutes. Keep her about as she is."

Left alone in the pilot-house Nat glanced at the compass, noted the course marked on the charts, and by moving the small steam steering-wheel slightly, found that the ship answered readily to the helm.

Off to the west there was a big bank of slate-colored clouds, from which, now and then, came low rumblings of thunder.

"I guess it won't be long before the storm reaches here," thought the young pilot.

Almost before the boy realized it, an hour had passed. He was so interested in steering the boat, and recalling the different points that had been impressed on him by the pilot, that he did not notice that Mr. Weatherby was gone much longer than he had said he would be away.

"It's taking him a good while to get his medicine," murmured Nat. "I hope he isn't going to be sick again to-night. I don't want to have to steer the vessel among a lot of islands."

He was now anxiously awaiting the return of Mr. Weatherby, for the storm seemed to be approaching more rapidly, and the darkness of the coming night was added to by the black clouds, that now covered the entire sky.

Nat shifted the wheel, to keep the vessel on the prescribed course, and was looking ahead through the fast-gathering gloom, when some one came into the pilot-house. He looked up to see Captain Turton, whose face wore a worried look.

"I'm afraid we're going to have trouble," he said.

"How so, captain?"

"Mr. Weatherby is very sick. I was just in his cabin, and I found him in a semi-conscious state. He had tried to take some medicine, but before he could get it he was seized with a sudden fit of sickness. I called in the doctor, and he said the pilot would not be able to take charge of the vessel to-night. I don't know what we're going to do, unless you can steer. Do you think you can?"

Nat hesitated. He had taken the freighter over this same course, when Mr. Weatherby was in the pilot-house with him, but that was in calm weather and daylight.

Could he steer the big passenger steamer over the same course after dark, and with a storm coming up? It was a question grave enough to make even an older person than Nat hesitate.

"It's a pretty big contract for a lad," said the captain. "I'll help you all I can, but the rules require me to have a pilot in charge. I can't do it, unless you feel that you can steer the ship, with such help as I can give you. Otherwise, I shall have to put into the nearest port, and I dislike to do that, as it will disarrange the passenger schedule, and the owners object to that."

"I—I think I can do it—at least I'll try," said Nat, determined to "keep his nerve" as the pilot had advised him. "I'll do my best."

"That's the way to talk, Nat! I guess you'll make out all right. Now I'll have to go to help look after Mr. Weatherby. He is in a bad way."

"Do you think he will—die?"

"Oh, no, it's not as serious as that, but he's quite sick."

As the captain turned away the rumbling of thunder grew louder, and there came fitful gleams of lightning from the black clouds.

Nat drew a long breath, and prepared himself for what he felt sure was coming. Then, almost as calmly as if it had been Mr. Weatherby himself, he gave his orders. The lookout was stationed in the bow, and the great searchlight, on a mast back of the pilot-house, and some distance above it, was set aglow. This was to disclose, during the storm, any vessels or other obstructions in the path of the Mermaid. This done, Nat prepared for his difficult task.

It grew darker, but with the blackness came the flashing of the beacon lights on dangerous reefs and islands. Nat was able to pick out his position fairly well, and he began to feel less nervous.

Suddenly, with a furious burst of wind, and a dash of rain, the storm enveloped the vessel. Great waves arose on the lake, and the ship began to pitch and toss. In fact, a storm on one of the great lakes is almost as bad as one at sea, if not worse, for it does not take long for the comparatively shallow water to become very much agitated.

The night wore on. Wearily, Nat clung to the small wheel in front of him, shifting the course of the vessel now and then, as he picked out the route on the chart, or made a quick shift to avoid some bar or island. His arms and legs were weary. His eyes were hot and smarting from lack of slumber and rest. But he stuck it out. Captain Turton offered to relieve him, but the boy did not want to give up. Even had he done so, the relief would have been short, as, while the commander was proposing it, word came that the ship had sprung a small leak, and the captain's presence was needed to see that the pumps were set going.

"We're depending on you, Nat," he said as he left the pilot-house.

"I'll stick it out," again came the plucky reply.

About three o'clock in the morning the wind shifted. The lake became choppy, from the cross seas, and a second section of the storm seemed to make its appearance. Nat, who in spite of his efforts to stay awake had caught himself nodding—in fact almost asleep once—started up suddenly. He peered out of the windows.

There, right in the path of the vessel, illuminated by the powerful searchlight, was a mass of foam. At the same moment the lookout yelled:

"Breakers ahead! We're headed for a reef!"

With a quick motion, while his heart almost stopped beating, Nat spun the little wheel around. The ship quivered. It seemed to hesitate, as if debating whether or not to rush to destruction on the sharp rocks, just hidden under the treacherous water, or to glide to one side.

Then, slowly, so slowly that Nat's heart almost ceased beating lest she should not change her course quickly enough, the Mermaid swung around, and her prow was pointed away from the dangerous reef.

Nat's plucky piloting had saved the vessel!

Into the little pilot-house rushed the captain. He had heard the lookout's cry, and had guessed what had happened.

"We were almost on Dagget's Point reef!" he exclaimed. "How did we escape it?"

"I saw it in time," answered Nat modestly.

"Thank God!" cried the captain, as he grasped the young pilot by the hand. "There's deep water all around us, and if we'd struck it would have meant a terrible loss of life."

At that instant there was a hoarse scream from a siren whistle, and, peering out of the windows of the pilot-house, Nat and the captain saw, looming up in front of them, but some distance away, another steamer. Nat blew a caution signal, and it was answered from the other vessel, which quickly turned aside, and then disappeared in the mist of rain.

"I believe they were headed right for the reef, too," said the captain. "You warned them in time. Well, we have a good course from now out. I'll take the wheel, and you go lie down."

But Nat would not. He insisted on remaining in the pilot-house until morning, and when daylight came, he saw that the other vessed was not far from them, both ships being headed for the same harbor. The other ship was the Spray, of much smaller tonnage than the Mermaid.

"She must have turned back after meeting us," thought Nat, "as she was headed in the opposite direction when we met near the reef."

CHAPTER XIX
THE ACCUSATION

"You are a plucky lad, and I wish more like you were learning to be pilots."

Nat found Mr. Weatherby quite ill, but, in spite of that, the pilot warmly congratulated his protégé on the nerve he had displayed during the storm.

"You have proved your worth, Nat," said Mr. Weatherby, "and I am proud of my pupil."

Nat turned in for a sleep, soon after breakfast. There was little for the crew of the Mermaid to do while the repairs were being made, and those passengers who were not yet at their destination strolled about the town while waiting for the trip to be resumed.

The vessel that Nat had brought so skilfully through the storm, which had ceased with the first appearance of dawn, was tied at the same dock as that at which was the steamer they had met near the reef. One was on one side, and one on the other, and when the dock between the ships was not occupied by wagons and trucks, laden with freight, Nat could look across and see the crew of the other steamer, the Spray, busily rearranging the cargo that had shifted during the storm. She was a freighter, but smaller than the Jessie Drew.

The appearance of one lad in the crew of the Spray attracted Nat's attention, when the young pilot arose early in the afternoon. The lad had red hair, and his figure seemed familiar.

"If I didn't think he was a good way off from here I'd say that fellow was Sam Shaw," mused Nat. "He looks a good deal like him."

He tried to watch, to determine if it was his former enemy, but, as the lad kept moving to and fro, it was impossible to be certain.

"If I saw Mr. Bumstead I'd know it was Sam who was with him," went on Nat, as he stood at the rail nearest the dock. "It might be possible they transferred to that ship. I wonder if I hadn't better speak to Mr. Weatherby, and ask his advice? No, he's sick, and I don't want to bother him about my affairs. I guess I'll just take a stroll over there and see for myself. Captain Turton won't care, as we can't sail until late this evening."

Nat started down the gangplank, but, when he was half way down, he met a man in uniform, who asked him:

"Is this the Mermaid?"

"Yes, sir."

"I am looking for a young man, named Nat Morton. Can you tell me where I shall find him?"

"That is my name," replied our hero. He thought perhaps it might be an officer from police headquarters, with some message concerning Mr. Bumstead.

"Then you are just the person I want," the man went on. "You will have to come with me."

"Come with you? What for? Is it about Mr. Bumstead?"

"Yes," replied the man. "How did you guess?"

"Well, I've been expecting a message regarding him."

"Then what you will hear will be no news to you."

"Has he been arrested?"

"Arrested? No. Why should he be arrested?"

"Why, I thought you said——"

"Perhaps I had better not say anything more until you get to headquarters," the man went on.

"Then it surely must be about that rascally mate," thought Nat. "Mr. Weatherby will be glad they have him."

He followed the man off the pier, and along a street on the water front.

"I understand you piloted that boat through the storm last night," said the man.

"Well, I did, but I guess it was more by good luck than anything else that enabled me to do it. Who told you about it?"

"Oh, it is pretty generally known. The crews of vessels talk more or less when they are in dock."

They walked along in silence a little longer, and then the man stopped in front of a small building.

"This doesn't look like police headquarters," thought Nat. "I wonder if there's a mistake."

"Go right that way," said the officer, keeping close behind the boy. "The harbor master is in that room."

"The harbor master?" repeated Nat. "What have I to do with the harbor master? I don't want to see him."

"No, but he wants to see you."

A moment later Nat was ushered into a room, where at a large desk sat a stern-looking man, and on either side of him were two men, each one with several books and papers before him.

"Ah, so this is the young pilot, eh?" remarked the man in the middle. "How old are you—er—Nat Morton? I believe that is your name."

"I will soon be sixteen."

"And you piloted the Mermaid past Dagget's Point reef last night—in that storm?"

"Yes, sir."

"I suppose you have a license."

"A license? No, sir. I am studying under Mr. Weatherby. He was taken suddenly ill last night, and I had to steer the boat. There was no one else."

"I am sorry, my lad," said the harbor master, "but I shall have to place you under arrest."

"Arrest? What for?"

"For piloting a passenger steamer without a license. A complaint has been lodged against you with this board—the board of control in charge of harbors and pilots."

"A complaint? Who made it?"

"Bumstead is the name—er—Joseph Bumstead, mate of the freighter Spray," replied the harbor master, reading from some documents before him. "He says he met your boat off the reef last night, that you were in charge, without a license, and that you nearly ran him down. He made the complaint about an hour ago. His boat had to put back here for some repairs. He says your boat damaged the one he is mate of."

"That's not so—I mean that part about nearly running him down!" exclaimed Nat. "I saw him in plenty of time, and if it hadn't been for my warning whistle the Spray would have gone upon the reef herself!"

"I am sorry, my lad, but the complaint is made in regular form, and I shall have to hold you for a hearing. However, we will have it at once. I have sent to summon this Bumstead. Do you wish to notify any friends?"

"Mr. Weatherby is ill, and cannot come, but I would like Captain Turton to come."

"Very well, we will send for him. Officer, bring Captain Turton here. In the meantime you may sit down until we reach your case," the harbor master motioned Nat to take a chair on one side of the big room.

CHAPTER XX
OFF AGAIN

"I know what I'll do," said Nat to himself, while he anxiously waited. "If Bumstead comes here I'll tell Captain Turton to go out and get a policeman. Then I can make a new complaint, charge Bumstead with keeping money belonging to me, and he'll be arrested. That's what I'll do."

While Nat sat in the office of the harbor master, he listened to several cases that were being disposed of. Captains of tugs and other boats were arraigned on charges of violating rules of the harbor; such as displaying wrong lights, crossing the course of other boats at the improper time, failing to give warning signals, colliding with other craft, or not filing the proper reports.

Some of the men were fined, others were suspended for a certain length of time, and one or two had their licenses revoked.

"I wonder what he'll do to me?" thought Nat. "There doesn't seem to be any case just like mine."

He was interrupted in his musing by the entrance of Captain Turton.

"What's this I hear?" asked the commander wonderingly, after he had greeted his young pilot. "Are you in trouble, Nat?"

"It seems so," and the boy told the circumstances.

"Don't worry," advised Captain Turton cheerfully. "I'll stand by you, and we'll have that mate arrested as soon as he leaves the place."

"Is the Morton case ready?" asked the harbor master, looking about him, after he had disposed of all the other matters before him.

"The mate Bumstead isn't here yet," replied an officer who was in charge of the court. "Young Morton is here, and Captain Turtle——"

"I beg your pardon, my name is Turton," interrupted the commander of the Mermaid.

"Turton, I should say," corrected the court officer.

"Where is the person who made the charge—Bumstead the mate?" asked the harbor master.

"I have sent Officer Jenkins for him, sir. He'll be here directly. Ah, here is Jenkins now."

"Well, Jenkins," said the harbor master, "did you bring the mate back with you? This case has been delayed long enough."

"No, sir, I didn't bring him."

"Why not?"

"Because, sir, his ship has just sailed, and he's gone with her."

"I'll commit him for contempt of court!" exclaimed the harbor master. "Make out the papers at once," he added, turning to his clerk. "I will now take up this case, however, and proceed as far as possible. Give me the written accusation."

He looked over some papers, and, at a nod from him, Nat walked forward and stood in front of the big table. Then the harbor master read the complaint as made by Bumstead. It set out in a number of legal terms and phrases, that Nat Morton had, in violation of the regulations, piloted a vessel without having a license. The mate, it appeared, had heard of Nat's feat early that morning while the two vessels were docked, and had lost no time making his accusation, for mere spite.

"How do you plead to that?" asked the harbor master.

"I guess I did it," answered Nat.

"Perhaps you had better explain," suggested one of the other men present. "We will mark you 'not guilty' until we have heard the case."

Thereupon, Nat told all the circumstances connected with the sudden illness of Mr. Weatherby, the storm, the leak in the ship and the necessity for keeping on. Captain Turton was called and verified all that Nat said.

"Hum," remarked the harbor master. "There seems to be some justification here. I will consult with my colleagues on this. We will let you know our decision shortly. You may wait here."

He motioned to the men on either side of him, and they all retired to a rear room.

"What do you suppose they'll do to me?" asked Nat.

"Nothing very serious, I think," replied the captain, for he had been through such cases before, and he knew that harbor masters were disposed to stretch a point wherever possible.

"And Bumstead has got away again," went on Nat. "He stayed just long enough to file his complaint, and then skipped out. I wonder if he knows I am after him?"

"I think not," remarked Captain Turton, who had been told the circumstances of the lumber deal. "If he did he wouldn't venture to stay in the same port with you long enough to make a charge against you. Probably he wants to make all the trouble he can for you, in the hope that you will give up this ship life, and go somewhere so that he will not have to worry about you finding out about him."

"Perhaps," agreed Nat.

The harbor master and his colleagues filed back into the room. Nat tried to gather from their looks what disposition they had made of his case, but the men gave no indication, seeming to be as grave and serious as when they had gone out.

"Hum," mumbled the harbor master, in his deep voice. "We have considered your case, Nat Morton, and we wish to ask you a few questions."

Thereupon, Nat was put through a brief examination in relation to matters connected with piloting and the management of boats. The harbor master and his colleagues asked him a lot of questions, some of which Nat answered to his own satisfaction, at least. To others, more technical, he replied as best he could.

Fortunately his life about the docks, and his instructions at the hands of Mr. Weatherby, stood him in good stead. He showed a good practical knowledge of piloting, though some of the questions puzzled him, and his answers seemed to afford mirth to the harbor master and his associates.

"Well," remarked the harbor master after a pause, "what you did, Nat, may have been irregular—in fact it was irregular, and against the rules—but, under the circumstances, we cannot blame you for it. You are doing very well, and you know more, now, than many pilots who have a license. Still, you are under the age. When you reach the proper limit you will have to appear for an official examination. Until then you can go on as you have been doing, only don't try to handle a boat alone in a storm. Wait until you have had a little more experience. Then you can come up for examination, and get a full license. This case is laid over indefinitely."

"Does that mean I can go?" asked Nat.

"Yes, you can go," answered the harbor master with a smile. "And don't worry. We'll pass you, as soon as you are of the proper age. I congratulate you on your pluck," and then, to the surprise of his colleagues (for the harbor master was a somewhat gruff sort of a man), he leaned over and shook hands with Nat.

A little later Nat and Captain Turton were aboard the Mermaid. They found Mr. Weatherby much better, and when the repairs were completed, and the freight and passengers aboard, the ship steamed out of the harbor to resume her voyage.

CHAPTER XXI
NAT INTERVENES

So Nat resumed his place at the wheel, being relieved now and then by Captain Turton or Mr. Weatherby, who took short shifts. In a few days the old pilot was entirely better, and then he and Nat divided up the work, the lad learning more about the points on which he had been puzzled during the examination.

The Mermaid had a large number of passengers this voyage, and Nat was kept pretty busy, in addition to his duties in the pilot-house. Some travelers, specially favored, occupied seats at the captain's table at meal times, and this made additional work for the lad, as he had to help the cabin steward. But Nat liked it all, and no task was too exacting for him to perform to the best of his ability. During his leisure moments he used to watch the passengers, and in this way he learned much about the life of the comparatively wealthy travelers.

One afternoon, when the ship was within a few hours of reaching port, Nat, going along the upper deck, passed a German youth, standing by the rail, looking down into the water, as it swept away from the bows of the Mermaid. The youth, whom Nat had noticed on several other occasions, because of his well-fitting clothes, appeared to be in rather low spirits.

"We're making pretty good time," said Nat pleasantly, for he often addressed the passengers, many of whom had formed a liking for the lad.

"Oh, yes, ve go fast enough," replied the German, who spoke with quite an accent. But he answered so gloomily, that the vessel might as well have been going backward, for all the satisfaction he derived from her speed.

"We'll soon be in port," went on Nat. "I suppose you'll be glad to get on shore. It's quite rough on account of the wind."

"Oh, it makes not so much difference to me," was the answer, and the youth did not smile. Indeed, he hardly lifted his face to glance at Nat, yet he did not seem to resent being spoken to.

"It's a nice day," went on the young pilot.

"Yes, I suppose for dem vot likes der vedder," came the answer. "But, ach——" and then the German murmured something to himself in his own language.

"I guess he doesn't feel well, or else he doesn't want to talk," thought Nat, as he passed on. "Maybe he's a bit seasick, though there's hardly any motion to-day."

Nat passed on, to attend to some of his duties. When he came back, about an hour later, the German youth was in the same place, moodily staring down into the water.

"I wonder what ails him?" thought Nat. "He acts queer. But that's the way with some Germans, the least little thing makes them moody, and then, again, they're as jolly as can be. But I suppose we are all queer, in one way or another."

He was half-tempted to speak to the youth again, as he passed him, but he did not want to be thought too forward, so he said nothing, nor did the German appear to notice our hero.

The vessel would arrive at port in about an hour, and would tie up there for the night. It was just getting dusk, and Nat was going from place to place on the ship, getting certain records of which he had charge, in shape for filing at the dock office. Several times he passed by the German, who stood in the same spot, and in the same position.

"He certainly is ill," mused Nat. "I guess I'll tell him we have a doctor aboard. Maybe he doesn't know it."

Nat was about to put his idea into execution, when Mr. Weatherby called him to perform some duty, and it was half an hour later when the young pilot made his way back again to where stood the youth in whom he had begun to feel considerable interest.

"I'll just tell him where to find the doctor," thought the boy, as he approached the place where the silent figure had been leaning over the rail. But, to his surprise, the youth was not there.

"He must have gone below," mused Nat. "Probably he feels better."

An instant later he saw a strange sight. In a sheltered corner, formed by an angle of a deck-house, stood the German youth, and in the dim light from a lantern Nat saw that he was removing his collar, tie, coat and vest. He was neatly folding his garments in a pile on the deck.

"He must be crazy!" thought Nat. "I'll call the captain."

As he watched, the youth finished putting his clothes in order. Then, with a deliberate step, the German approached the rail, placed his hand on it, and prepared to leap over.

"Suicide!" was the instant thought that came to Nat. "He's going to commit suicide! I must stop him!"

To think, with Nat, was to act. He sprang forward with a cry of warning.

"Here! Stop that! Come back!"

The German paused, hesitated an instant, glanced at Nat rushing toward him, and leaped. But he was a second too late. The young pilot grabbed him around the legs, and held on like grim death.

"What are you doing?" Nat cried. "Don't you know you'll be swept right into the propeller and be cut to pieces!"

"Let me go! Let me go!" insisted the youth in a low, intense whisper, as though he was afraid of being heard.

"Not unless you promise not to jump."

"I vill not make promises! I haf no use for to live! I vant to end it all! Let me go!"

He tried to escape from Nat's hold, but the young pilot had no gentle grip, and his arms were strong.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

The German was pleading now.

"Not much!" panted Nat. "You can't commit suicide from this boat."

The German continued to struggle. Nat felt the legs slipping away from him.

"If you don't give up I'll call for help, and the captain will put you under arrest!" threatened the young pilot. That seemed to quiet the German. He ceased to struggle, and became calmer.

"Vell," he said, in a voice that was choked with tears, "I gif up. I vill not jump overboard—now."

"Nor at any other time," insisted Nat.

"I cannot promise dot, but I promise you dot I vill not jump from dis boat. I care not to live longer."

Nat released his hold. The German was panting from his exertions, as he donned his garments. The affair had taken place in a secluded spot, and no one had seen Nat's intervention in the tragic episode.

"What's the matter?" inquired the young pilot, when the German was fully dressed again. "Are you sick? Why did you want to end your life?"

To his surprise the young fellow burst into tears, and sobbed pitifully.

"Come to my cabin," proposed Nat gently. "Perhaps I can help you."

"I—I like not to go vere der peoples see me."

"That's all right, I can take you to it by an outside companionway, and we'll meet no one. Come, and maybe I can help you. You seem to be in trouble."

"I am—in bad troubles," was the choking reply, as the youth followed Nat below.

CHAPTER XXII
AFTER BUMSTEAD

"Yes, dot is him, legacy. Your American vords are so hard to speak right. Vell, he leaves me some money, but I am a such foolish fellow. Instead of putting my legs easy—I mean legacy—in der bank, I start in to have a goot time—I am vat you call a sport. I treat all my friends, und I get in vid a sporty crowd. I buy goot clothes, und I have lots of fun.

"Pretty soon, not long after I gets my legacy, der head of der firm vere I work, he say dey no longer needs me, for you see I am foolish, und I no longer look after my vork. But dot I lose my job make me not for to care. I still haf plenty of monies left, und I haf more good times."

"Then what is the trouble, if you have plenty of money?" asked Nat. "The trouble with most people is that they haven't got enough."

"Dot's me—exactly!" exclaimed Hugo. "I got to gambling und playing der races, und yesterday I found I haf not enough left, after I had been traveling about for some time, to pay my board for vun veek, in a decent place. I buys me a ticket on dis boat, for as far a distance as I haf money, und I decide I vill end it all. Und so I vould, only you stop me."

He added the last bitterly.

"Yes, I'm glad I stopped you, and you'll be glad too, before long," declared Nat firmly. "Why, you're no worse off than you were before. You had a lot of money, and you had a good time with it. Now you'll have to go back to work again."

"Ach! Dot's vat you Americans call der rubber," said the German.

"The rubber?" repeated Nat, a bit puzzled.

"I mean der rub—dot's vere der shoes nabs me—I mean pinch. I can't go back to my old place, und I don't know how to get vork in any odder place. Dere is no use for me to live. I makes an end to myself, ven ve gets to der port."

"No, you won't!" declared Nat. "If you don't promise not to try to commit suicide, for at least a week, I'll inform the police about you, as soon as we land, and they'll lock you up. It's against the law to take your own life or attempt it. If you wait a week you'll be all over the notion."

"A man's life iss his own—he can do vat he likes mit it."

"The law doesn't say so," replied Nat, who had gained his information from the newspapers.

"Vell, der law is wrong! I takes my own life!"

"Then you'll be arrested as soon as the boat lands."

"Arrest a Kesterberg!" exclaimed the German. "Dot vould be a disgrace."

"So would committing suicide."

The youth started. Evidently he had not thought of it in that light before.

"Vell, I promise you—for vun week."

"That's all right," said Nat briskly. "I'm satisfied. I know if you wait that long you'll be in a better frame of mind. Besides, I think I can help you. I'll speak to the captain and to Mr. Weatherby about you."

"But not about—not about—what I——"

"Oh, no, I'll say nothing about that," promised Nat. "But I know they can help you. Captain Turton is acquainted with lots of firms, and maybe he can get you a place with one of them."

"Den my troubles would be ofer," declared Hugo. "If I gets me a place to vork, nefer again vill I be so foolish again. If my people in Germany heard of vot I did, dey vould nefer forgive me."

"They're not likely to hear of it," said Nat. "Now you stay here until you feel better. We're going to land pretty soon, and I'll be busy. This evening I'll speak to the captain about you."

"But my ticket only takes me to dis port, und I haf no more money. I can't stay aboard."

"I'll fix that all right," declared the young pilot, who was beginning to feel quite important over what he had done, which, indeed, was no light matter, for he had given hope to a hopeless youth.

Captain Turton readily agreed to do what he could for Hugo Kesterberg, when, that evening, after all the freight and passengers had been discharged, Nat told as much of the case as it was necessary for the commander to know.

"I think I know a firm in Detroit that would be glad of his services," he said. "I'll give him a letter of recommendation to them, when we reach there, which will be at the end of the week."

"But—er—he hasn't any money left to pay his fare there," said Nat.

"That will be all right," replied Captain Turton. "I guess it won't break the company to give him a pass and his meals for a few days. Besides, I'm not going to let you get ahead of me in doing him a good turn."

Three days later, when the Mermaid reached Detroit, Hugo Kesterberg bade Nat, and his other friends aboard the ship, good-by. With a note of recommendation to a big firm, he could face the future in better spirits. Some time later Nat had a letter from the German youth, stating that he had a better position than the one in New York, and was doing well. The missive was full of thanks to Nat and Captain Turton.

Detroit was as far as the Mermaid was to go on the present voyage, and after taking on a big cargo, and quite a number of passengers, she turned about and began to traverse her way over Lake Huron again.

Captain Turton went ashore at the first port they made, after leaving Detroit, and when he came aboard again, he sought out Nat. The captain's manner betrayed some excitement.

"I have some news for you," he said to the young pilot.

"Am I going to be arrested again?"

"Not exactly. This concerns your enemy, Bumstead."

"Have they got him? Did he give up the money?"

"No, but I heard from a captain friend of mine ashore a little while ago, that the Spray is docked at Cove Point, about fifty miles above here. She had to lay up for repairs. She's an old boat and her engines are continually getting out of order."

"Are we going to stop there?" asked Nat eagerly.

"No, but I know what you are thinking of. There is a chance to cause the arrest of the mate, and here is my plan. You can take a train from here to Cove Point. The railroad runs quite near there. You have the warrant, made out by the police. Take that with you, and the authorities in Cove Point will make the arrest, I'm sure."

"But how can I get back to this boat?"

"I'll tell you. There is a train that leaves here at midnight, which will get you to Cove Point about two o'clock in the morning. The police are up at all hours. You can get them to serve the warrant at once, for Bumstead will probably be aboard the Spray at her dock. Then, after he is safe in jail, you can hire a boat to take you out, and I'll pick you up as I pass. I'll be on the watch for you to-morrow morning."

The plan was very feasible, and Nat thanked the captain for his thoughtfulness. He made his arrangements hurriedly, and began to have visions of recovering the money that was rightfully his.

"Be out about two miles beyond the point at about nine o'clock to-morrow morning," the captain called to him, as Nat left. "That's the time I'll pass, and as close in as I can run."

"I'll be there waiting for you," promised Nat.

"Good luck!" called the pilot. "I hope you get him. That Bumstead is getting to be as slippery as an eel."

"I'll get him, if he's there," declared the lad.

Then he hurried to the railroad station to get his ticket, for it was after ten o'clock, and the depot was some distance from the water front.

CHAPTER XXIII
BUMSTEAD ESCAPES

"Tramps? Who asked anything about tramps?" replied Nat. "I don't want to sleep there."

"Oh, excuse me," said the agent, opening his sleepy eyes a bit wider. "I didn't take a good look at you. I thought you were a tramp. Lots of 'em come in on our trains, and want to spend the night at the police station. They'd let themselves be arrested because the sheriff used to get so much a prisoner. But the county authorities put a stop to it. What's the matter? Some one rob you?"

"No," replied Nat, determined to keep his affairs to himself.

"Some crime been committed?" persisted the agent, for he thought it was rather unusual for a boy to be asking his way to the police station at three o'clock in the morning.

"I want to see a policeman," replied Nat, "and I thought the best place would be the station house."

"There used to be a policeman stationed here nights," went on the agent. "But he's gone now. If it was anything about the railroad I could attend to it for you."

"No, thank you. If you'll tell me where the station house is, I'll be much obliged."

The agent seemed disappointed, but he gave Nat the directions.

"I don't see what harm it would have done him to have told me," murmured the man, when Nat had gone off down the dark street. "It would help to keep me awake, if I had something like a crime or an arrest to think about. Well, I might as well doze off; it'll be two hours before the down freight is in," and he composed himself as comfortably as he could in his chair in the telegraph office.

Meanwhile, our hero managed to find the police station. Inside there was a sergeant on duty, who looked up inquiringly as Nat entered.

"Well?" he asked.

"I have a warrant for a man's arrest."

"Are you a detective from some other city? Where's your badge?" asked the sergeant suspiciously.

"No, I'm not a detective. I'm the person who made the complaint on which this warrant was issued," and Nat showed the one which had been returned by Mr. Scanlon.

The sergeant seemed impressed by the boy's business-like manner.

"Come inside," he invited, opening a gate in a railing that shut off the part of the room behind the desk. "Now tell me about it."

Nat told his tale as briefly as possible.

"And you want me to send an officer out to the ship with you, and arrest the mate?" inquired the sergeant when the young pilot had finished.

"If you will."

"Guess we'll have to, under the law. I'll be glad to help you out. It's a mean trick to take money in that fashion. Hey, George! I say, George! Get up, here's a case for you."

"What's that?" inquired a sleepy voice from a room back of the sergeant's desk.

"You've got to go out and arrest a man."

"Oh, can't somebody else go? I arrested a feller last night. I ain't going to do all the work in this police station."

"Look here, George Rosco!" called the sergeant, getting up, and going to the door of the room, where, evidently, the only policeman on duty was asleep, "you've got to get up, and go and arrest this man. There's a warrant for him, and he's charged with embezzling fifteen hundred dollars. He's mate aboard that freight steamer that's tied up here for repairs."

"Fifteen hundred dollars! Why didn't you say so at first?" exclaimed the policeman, appearing in the doorway, half dressed. "That's worth while arresting a man for. I thought it was another one of them chicken-stealing cases. Fifteen hundred dollars! I'll be ready in a jiffy! Whew! Fifteen hundred——"

The rest of what he said was lost to Nat and the sergeant, as the officer closed the door, while he dressed. When he came out he greeted Nat cordially.

"I don't mind being woke up for a case like that," he explained. "I thought it was some measly tramp case. For the last three nights I've been woke up by people whose henroosts have been robbed. I'm getting tired of it, and when the sergeant called me a while ago, I thought it was another one. You see, we've only got two policemen here, and I don't mind telling you that I do most of the arrestin' that's done. The other one—Tom Duncan—he's too lazy to arrest many. I do two to his one. I'm on night duty and he takes the day trick."

Nat could not help thinking that the night man had the easier time of it, even if he did make the most arrests.

"Now here's the warrant, George," said the sergeant. "Bring that fellow in, and we'll lock him up."

"Oh, I'll bring him in all right. He'll not get away from me. Let's see, I've got my revolver and my club. Guess I'm all right."

"You go right along with him," the sergeant directed Nat. "Point out the man you want and he'll bring him in."

"Yes, I'll get him," declared George. He started from the police station, followed by Nat. When he reached the door, the officer suddenly turned back. "Come near forgetting my badge," he said, in explanation. "It wouldn't do to arrest a man without my badge. He might think it was only a bluff. Give me my badge, sergeant."

"First you know, you'll forget your head," murmured the sergeant, as he passed over a big tin star.

"I take it off when I lay down for a nap of an evening," the policeman said to Nat. "Some of the points might stick me, and I'd get blood poisoning. You can't be too careful in this business. I knowed a policeman once——"

"Say, if you're going to arrest that man you'd better get a move on," advised the sergeant. "That boat's due to leave at daylight, I heard, and it ain't far from it now."

"All right, I'm going now. I'll be back in a little while with the prisoner. Get a cell ready for him."

"Oh, the cell will be ready when you are."

"Fifteen hundred dollars," murmured the policeman, as he and Nat went out into the night. "This will be a fine arrest. Tom Duncan will wish he made this one."

"We'd better hurry," suggested Nat. "He may escape."

"Don't worry about that. No prisoner ever got away from me," boasted the officer.

It was not far to the dock where the Spray was tied up. Even in the darkness Nat knew the boat. He wondered if the mate was aboard. Once he reached the ship, the officer's manner changed. He proceeded cautiously, and seemed to know what he was about.

"Do you know which his cabin is?" he asked of Nat, in a whisper.

"No, but I know where the mate usually sleeps aboard these boats."

"You go ahead then."

The young pilot led the way. Though he had never been aboard the Spray he thought he could find where Bumstead slept. Fortunately, they did not meet the anchor watch, who was probably asleep.

"This ought to be his cabin," said Nat, indicating one in the same relative position as that occupied by the mate aboard the Jessie Drew.

"Then I'll go in and get him," said the officer.

It was beginning to get light, a streak of dawn showing in the east. The policeman pushed open the cabin door, which was not locked.

"Is Joseph Bumstead here?" he asked in loud tones.

"That's me. What's wanted?" was the answer, and Nat recognized the mate's voice.

"Come out here," said the officer.

He backed out of the cabin, and in the growing light Nat saw that he had his revolver drawn. Wondering what could be wanted of him, Bumstead jumped out of his bunk, partly dressed.

"You're my prisoner!" suddenly exclaimed the policeman, throwing back his coat to display the big star. At the same time he grabbed the mate with one hand, and in the other leveled his weapon at him.

"What's the trouble? Is this a joke?" demanded the mate.

"You'll find it quite different from a joke," replied the officer. "I have a warrant for your arrest, sworn out by Nat Morton, charging you with the embezzlement of fifteen hundred dollars. You'll have to come with me."

At that moment the mate caught sight of Nat, who stood to one side.

"So! This is your work, eh?" he cried. "Well, I'll not go with you! You haven't got me yet!"

With a sudden motion he broke away from the officer.

"Hold on or I'll shoot!" threatened the policeman.

"Shoot then!" cried the mate.