Camp Venture: A Story of the Virginia Mountains

Tom went hunting, as the Doctor had suggested that he should. Three of the boys continued the chopping, while one stood guard – a duty that had been made more imperative than ever by the mountaineer's declaration of the fixed purpose of the moonshiners.

When Tom returned in the evening he was overladen with game, as it was his custom to be on his return from a hunting expedition. He had two big wild turkey gobblers, a great necklace of fat squirrels, nearly a dozen hares and a small deer which he had dragged down the mountain because of his inability to carry it with his other load upon him.

"Here's meat enough," he said, "to last till Christmas anyhow," for it was now well on into December, "and I've seen a big turkey gobbler that I mean to get for our Christmas dinner. He can't weigh less than twenty or twenty-five pounds, and he's a shy, wise, experienced old boy; but I've found out what his usual rambles are and if the Doctor will lend me that long range rifle of his, I'll promise to get that bird for Christmas. I don't believe it would be possible to get within shot gun range of him."

"Oh, you can take that gun, Tom, whenever you please," answered the Doctor. "In fact, I'm going to give it to you right now. Only I'll ask you when you go down the mountain with our prisoner, to mail a letter for me, in which I will order another gun of the same sort."

"But, Doctor," said Tom, in protest, "I didn't mean – "

"Of course you didn't," answered the Doctor. "If you'd meant anything of the kind, I wouldn't have thought of giving you the gun. As it is, I don't know anybody living that could make a better use of such a gun than you can. So it is yours, and I'm going to send for another just like it for myself. In the meantime, I'll borrow your shotgun for such casual uses as our camp life may require. Of course, you'll need the shot gun also, sometimes, but the rifle's yours, and I am sure it could not be in better hands."

The boy made his acknowledgments as best he could, and the best part of them was his fondling of the rifle itself in loving appreciation. But in his embarrassment over the Doctor's generosity, he wanted to turn the subject of conversation, and as supper was by this time over, he said:

"Now, Doctor, you were telling us the other night something about the old-time whaling ships. Won't you tell us to-night something about the modern ocean steamers?"

"Yes," broke in Jack. "You see, you are the only 'boy' among us who has ever seen a ship, and I believe you have crossed the ocean several times."

"Yes, many times," answered the Doctor, meditatively, "and there are many points of interest about a great modern ocean steamship, which it will please me to tell you about if it will interest you to hear."

The boys expressed an eager desire to hear, and so the Doctor proceeded.

"In the first place," he said, "there is nothing in the world so complete, so independent, so self-reliant, as a first-class steamship. She has everything on board that she can possibly need, or else she has the means of making it for herself. She makes her own electric lights, and every stateroom is supplied with them. She does not carry fresh water for drinking and cooking use, because she has a distilling apparatus capable of producing all needed fresh water from the salt water of the sea. This is a great advantage. If you have ever read sea tales, you know that in cases of long detention, one of the worst of troubles in the old days was that the water became foul and the use of it bred disease. The modern steamship always has a supply of perfectly pure distilled water."

"But, Doctor," asked Ed, "suppose one of the big steamers should break down at sea, with her machinery out of order, and wallow around out there on the waves for a month or two, wouldn't the crew and passengers all starve to death?"

"That could hardly happen," said the Doctor, "for reasons which I will explain presently. But even if it did happen, the crew and passengers would not starve, for the reason that every great ocean liner carries in her hold enough food to last her passengers and crew for fully six months, although I believe the law requires them to carry only one month's supply."

"How many are there on board usually?"

"Oh, that varies with every voyage. The big ships often carry three or four hundred first-class passengers and have crews numbering from seventy to one hundred men. But some of them carry, also, a large number of steerage passengers. I once crossed from Italy on the North German Lloyd's steamer Ems, when we had only twelve first class passengers, five second class and fifteen hundred in the steerage."

"And she carried food enough for all those people for six months?" asked Jack, in wonder.

"Yes, and more."

"What sort of food was it?"

"Beans by scores of tons; corned beef and mess pork by hundreds of barrels, and an almost unlimited supply of canned meats and vegetables," answered the Doctor.

"Now, as I said," the Doctor resumed, "no great steamer is ever likely to be delayed for a month or anything like a month, at sea. In the first place, each of them carries a skilled chief engineer and a corps of competent assistant engineers, a force of blacksmiths and machinists, and better still, duplicates of all those parts of her engines that are liable to break down. I remember one voyage on the American liner Berlin, when in midocean one of our cylinders cracked and threatened to burst under the steam pressure. The captain stopped the ship and the engineers and machinists cut that cylinder out. We lay there for twenty hours in a surging sea, and then proceeded, running with only two of our three cylinders in use."

"But what an awful bobbing about you must have got," said Ed, "lying out there on the sea, with no headway."

"Oh, no!" answered the Doctor. "Our bow was kept always toward the oncoming waves, so that we rode rather more easily than if we had been running under steam, for if we had been running we should have laid our course straight for New York, taking the waves from any direction. As it was, we got them dead ahead."

"But how did they hold the bow always toward the coming waves?" asked Ed.

"By the use of what they call 'sea anchors.' These are great hollow cones, made of iron. At the big end of each a cable is fastened, and the anchors are thrown overboard, usually three or four of them. Of course, it is impossible in deep seas to send an anchor down to the bottom, but these big cones catch the water, and by their dragging in it, they hold the ship pretty nearly stationary, and, more important still, they keep her head always pointed toward the wind and waves, so that she rides easily. Whenever a ship breaks down at sea she hoists three great black disks into her rigging. These mean to any ship that may approach, that the steamer is 'not under control' – that is to say, that as she is not running, she has no power to steer to one side or the other or in any other way to keep out of the path of the approaching vessel. Then, the approaching vessel steers clear of the disabled steamer, and usually she hoists a set of signal flags, asking if the steamer needs or wants any assistance, and the steamer replies with another set of flags giving her response to the offer. The flag signalling system has been so completely perfected by international agreement that two captains can carry on any conversation they please by means of it, even though neither can speak a word of the other's language.

"Now this is the other reason why no steamer is ever likely to lie crippled on the ocean for a month or any thing like it. There are regular pathways on the ocean over which all the regular line steamers pass. So, while the ocean is so immense that you may steam over it for days without seeing a vessel of any kind, nevertheless no steamer is likely to lie disabled for more than a few days without sighting some other that stands ready to render assistance. If the disabled steamer needs anything the other furnishes it. If she is too far broken down in her machinery to repair it at sea, the other will generally take her in tow. If she is likely to sink – the most unlikely of all things – the other will take off her crew and passengers and leave the ship to her fate."

"Why do you say, Doctor, that sinking is the most unlikely of all things?" asked Jack. "I should think it the most likely."

"Not at all," the Doctor replied. "The modern steamship is perhaps the most perfect product we have of scientific precision in construction. As well as you know that twice two makes four, the builders of a modern steamship know to the uttermost pound the amount of strain that any wave blow can put upon any part of the ship, and they provide for it four times over. Except in case of collision in a fog, the great ocean liner simply cannot sink at sea. If you took her out to mid ocean and there abandoned her, she would float securely until some current should drive her on rocks or some other sort of shore. At sea, she is absolutely unsinkable, except as I say by collision, and that is as true when she is carrying thousands of tons of freight as at any other time."

"It is very wonderful," said Jack.

"Of course it is. If I were called upon to name the modern seven wonders of the world, I should unhesitatingly put the ocean greyhound first in the list. But come boys! It is past our bed time, and we've heavy work to do to-morrow in getting those three great timbers ready to send down the chute."

"I'm awfully sorry," said Tom.

"Sorry – for what?" asked the Doctor.

"Why, now that you've told us so much about the great ships, I want to hear more. I've at least a hundred questions to ask you."

"Very well," said the Doctor. "The winter will be long and we'll have abundant opportunities of evenings to ask and answer all the questions we please. But just now our business is to get to bed and to sleep, or rather that's the business of you other fellows. My business is to go out and relieve Jim Chenowith as our picket guard. So good night boys, and good, refreshing slumbers to you!"

With that the Doctor shouldered a gun, first carefully examining its cartridges, and strode out into the bitterly cold night to do his turn at guard duty. He had indeed made himself a boy among boys, and he had won all hearts.

CHAPTER XVII

Christmas in Camp Venture

As breakfast was in course of preparation the next morning, Ed brought a large dripping pan and set it in front of the fire.

"Now you fellows," he said, "who are broiling bacon on the points of sharpened sticks, will please let the fat from it drip into this pan, and you'll kindly do the same from now till Christmas."

"What's up Ed?" asked Jack. "What do you want us to do that for?"

"Why the Doctor insists that I must stay indoors till after Christmas, so quite naturally it is going to fall to me to cook the Christmas dinner. I take it for granted that little Tom is going to get that big turkey gobbler he told us about, and I'm going to cook it properly – or as nearly so as the limited resources of Camp Venture will permit. To that end I shall want some drippings from broiling bacon. So save all the fat you can, boys, from now until Christmas."

The boys asked no questions, knowing that Ed Parmly was by all odds the best cook in the camp, but they saved all they could of the drippings from the slices of bacon that they were toasting in the fire.

Three days before Christmas, Tom took his rifle and went out on the mountain in search of his big turkey. He brought back some game – Tom never failed to do that – but he came back without the big turkey, though it was well after nightfall when he arrived at the camp. Some of the boys were disposed to joke him about his failure, though of course in a friendly way.

"That's all right fellows," answered Tom. "But I've promised you that big turkey, and I'm going to deliver the goods."

"How can you speak so confidently, Tom?" asked Harry. "You've missed getting him to-day and you may miss getting him to-morrow and next day."

"But I shan't do that," answered Tom with that confidence which is born of knowledge and skill. "I know where that turkey and his flock are roosting to-night, and I'll be there before daylight to-morrow morning. I'll be right under him when he wakes, and I'll have my shot gun with me, for the range to a roost is short. I'll have that turkey gobbler here before noon to-morrow, or I'll admit that I'm no hunter."

"But suppose he quits his roost during the night and wanders away somewhere," suggested the Doctor, who knew nothing of the habits of wild turkeys.

"Turkeys never do that," answered Tom. "When once they go to roost they stay there till the dawn broadens into full daylight. Nothing could persuade them to quit their perches much before sunrise, and before that time I'll have that stately gentleman flung over my shoulder."

Accordingly Tom left camp about two hours before the daylight came, and about ten o'clock he returned, bearing the gigantic gobbler, in triumph, and with it two smaller turkeys which he had also killed.

"There you doubters!" he said as he flung down the birds, "I promised you a turkey dinner for Christmas and I've kept my word. It only remains for Ed to cook the big bird properly and I haven't the least doubt that he'll do that. The other two will keep in such weather as this as long as we care to keep them. What with the game we already have on hand, and these three turkeys, I think we're in no pressing danger of an outbreak of scurvy in camp, are we Doctor?"