The Emerald Key - By Christopher Dinsdale Page 0,65

should now be easy.

Standing in front of the large polished oak wheel, Jamie pulled twice on the rope that hung next to the wheel, thereby ringing the bell in the engine room to get Daniel’s attention. He grabbed the brass handle on the round telegraph and pushed it forward until it read Ahead Slow. A different brass bell on the other side of the wheel rang twice in response, and a small brass arrow on the inside of the telegraph also moved to Ahead Slow, acknowledging the order from the bridge. The ship gave a shudder as the pair of huge walking beams began to tilt slowly back and forth like gigantic teeter-totters. The shafts at the end of each beam pumped the paddlewheels. The paddlewheels slowly slapped at the dark, moonlit water and the Carpathia II steamed away from the dock.

Hawkeye Summers joined the captain in the wheelhouse as the first of the Thousand Islands began to glide past the old steamship. Hawkeye saw his captain absent-mindedly rubbing the worn wheel as he hummed a tune.

“You’re going to miss her, aren’t you?”

Big John looked around the rusty old wheelhouse and nodded. “A lot of memories in this old girl, but we’re going to give her one heck of a send-off.”

Hawkeye’s eyes lit up. “You’re still planning on shooting her down the Lachine Rapids?”

He smiled. “As soon as I drop off my cargo in Montreal, we’ll head out to the rapids. I can’t wait to race her through those rapids like a bolt of lightning. I’ve canoed and paddled those rapids for over a week, planning out the perfect route. We’re going to retire this girl in style.”

“Every captain in the area will be out at the rapids watching. They’ve been talking about it in the pub for weeks, even putting wagers on whether she’ll make it down the rapids in one piece. No one has tried shooting those rapids in a ship this size.”

“And what did you put your money on?” asked Big John.

Hawkeye laughed. “On you making it, of course. Can I ask a favour of an old friend?”

“Sure.”

“Can I be up here in the wheelhouse with you when we shoot the rapids?”

Big John slapped his friend on the back. “Of course. I wouldn’t want you down in the engine room anyway, just in case I do lose your bet.”

Two loud dings from a nearby bell broke their conversation. Big John knew it had come from a nearby ship, but where was it? There wasn’t a ship in sight.

“Do you see a ship?” he asked Hawkeye.

Hawkeye ran to each window. “Wait, ah … there she is. Look behind us to port!”

Glancing out his port side, Big John yelped in shock. Only thirty feet from his stern, another paddlewheeler was pulling up alongside his boat. It was a beauty of a ship with a double set of brand new paddlewheels. Big John had to work hard to control his temper. What idiot would sail a brand new ship so close to his and risk a collision?

“Uh, Captain, you better leave the wheel and come over to see this.”

“What’s that idiot of a captain doing now? Cleaning the dirt out from under his toenails?”

“No. He’s waving to you.”

“Great. A friendly idiot. Well, I’m not in the mood to wave back.”

“You might want to. And he’s not the only one waving either.”

“What?”

“I’ll take the wheel, Captain. You have to come and see this for yourself.”

Fuming, Big John handed the wheel to Hawkeye and tilted his head out the portside window. His jaw nearly hit the floor. Waving to him from the wheelhouse of the stunning new paddlewheeler was Jamie Galway. A half-dozen of the orphans whom he had dropped off in Prescott were laughing and dancing on the open bow as if they were at a party. He tried to make out the name of the ship on the bow. A new piece of wood had been placed on top of the original. In still-wet paint, which must have been written by the hand of a child, read the name the Flying Irishman. On the deck, the children recognized Big John and waved to him excitedly. He sheepishly waved back.

“Hawkeye,” he said. “Keep the helm. I’m heading out on the yardarm.”

“Yessir, Captain,” Hawkeye replied with a chuckle.

Big John stepped outside the wheelhouse door and leaned out over the port yardarm railing. To his further shock, he saw Jamie Galway hand the wheel over to that young girl named Beth. Jamie walked