whether the machinery is at fault is something that will have to be
found out. It isn't safe to proceed until morning."

"And that will delay me several hours," grumbled Mr. Marshall.

"I can't help that. I'll not take the responsibility of piloting the
boat in this thick fog, when I can't depend on the lights."

"No, of course not," was the answer. "We'll have to remain here,
that's all. Have the fog-horn sounded regularly, Mr. Bumstead," the
captain added to the mate; and all through the night, at ten-second
intervals, the great siren fog-whistle of the boat blew its melancholy
blast. Nat found it impossible to sleep much with that noise over his
head, but toward morning the fog lifted somewhat, and he got into a
doze, for the whistle stopped.

Mr. Weatherby went ashore in the morning to make inquiries regarding
the false lights. He learned that the machinery in the point
lighthouse had become deranged, so that the wrong signal was shown. It
had been repaired as soon as possible, and was now all right. But as
the fog was gone and it was daylight, the ship could proceed safely
without depending on lighthouses. Nat was up early, and had a good
view of the point and rocks that had so nearly caused the destruction
of the _Jessie Drew_.

Three days later, having made a stop at Cheboygan to take on some
freight, the big ship was on Lake Huron. This was farther than Nat had
ever been before, and he was much interested in the sight of a new
body of water, though at first it did not seem much different from
Lake Michigan.

They steamed ahead, making only moderate speed, for the freighter was
not a swift boat, and on the evening of the next day they ran into
Thunder Bay and docked at Alpena.

"Plenty of work ahead for you and me," said Mr. Dunn to Nat that
night.

"How's that?"

"Well, we've got to break out a large part of the cargo and take on
almost as much again. We'll be busy checking up lists and making out
way-bills. You want to be careful not to make a mistake, as that mate
will have his eye on you. It's easy to see he doesn't like you."

"And I don't like him," retorted Nat.

"I don't blame you. Still, do your best when he's around. I know you
always do, though. Well, I'm going to get to bed early, as we'll have
our hands full in the morning."

Nat also sought his bunk about nine o'clock, and it seemed he had
hardly been asleep at all when six bells struck, and he had to get up.

That day was indeed a