CHAPTER II
AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
The "Fearless" was a smart, staunch ship of about three thousandtons--one of a numerous fleet owned by the line of which Mr. Quinbywas the manager. She had been built with special reference to theChina trade, and was designed chiefly for cargoes, although she hadaccommodations for a considerable number of passengers. She was equippedwith the latest type of modern screw engines, and although she did notrun on a fixed schedule, could be counted on, almost as certainly as aregular liner, to make her port at the time appointed. Everything aboutthe steamer was seamanlike and shipshape, and the boys were mostfavorably impressed, as, under the guidance of Captain Manning, theymade their way forward. Here they were introduced to the first andsecond officers, and then shown to the quarters they were to occupyduring the voyage.
Like everything else about the ship, these were trim and comfortable, andthe boys were delighted to find that they had been assigned adjoiningrooms. By the time they had washed and changed their clothes, it was timefor supper, and to this they did ample justice. They were valianttrenchermen, and even the narrow escape of the afternoon had not robbedthem of their appetites.
"You'd better eat while you can, fellows," laughed Bert. "We sailto-morrow, and twenty-four hours from now, you may be thinking so littleof food that you'll be giving it all to the fishes."
"Don't you worry," retorted Dick, "I've trolled for bluefish off theLong Island coast in half a gale, and never been seasick yet."
"Yes," said Bert, "but scudding along in a catboat is a different thingfrom rising and falling on the long ocean swells. We haven't anyswinging cabins here to keep things always level, and the ship isn'tlong enough to cut through three waves at once like the big Atlanticliners."
"Well," said Tom, "if we do have to pay tribute to Neptune, I hope wewon't be so badly off as the poor fellow who, the first hour, was afraidhe was going to die, and, the second hour, was afraid he couldn't die."
"Don't fret about dying, boys," put in the ship's doctor, a jolly littleman, with a paunch that denoted a love of good living; "You fellows areso lucky that they couldn't kill you with an axe. Though that knife didcome pretty near doing the trick, didn't it? 'The sweet little cherubthat sits up aloft, looking after the life of poor Jack,' was certainlyworking overtime, when that Malay went for you to-day."
"Yes," returned Dick, "but he slipped a cog in not looking after thepoor fellow that brute wounded first. By the way, doctor, how is he?Will he live?"
"O, he'll pull through all right," answered the doctor. "I gave hiswound the first rough dressing before the ambulance took him away.Luckily, the blade missed any of the vital organs, and a couple ofmonths in the hospital will bring him around all right. That is, unlessthe knife was poisoned. These beggars sometimes do this, in order tomake assurance doubly sure. I picked up the knife as it lay on the pier,and will turn it over to the authorities to-morrow. They'll have to useit in evidence, when the case comes up for trial."
He reached into his breast pocket as he spoke and brought out themurderous weapon. The boys shuddered as they looked at it and realizedhow near they had come to being its victims. They handled it gingerly asthey passed it around, being very careful to avoid even a scratch, inview of what the doctor had said about the possibility of it beingpoisoned.
It was nearly a foot in length, with a massive handle that gave it asecure grip as well as additional force behind the stroke. The hilt wasengraved with curious characters, probably an invocation to one of themalignant gods to whom it was consecrated. The blade was broad, with theedge of a razor and the point of a needle. But what gave it a peculiarlydeadly and sinister significance was the wavy, crooked lines followed bythe steel, and which indicated the hideous wounds it was capable ofinflicting.
"Nice little toy, isn't it?" asked the doctor.
"It certainly is," replied Bert. "A bowie knife is innocent, comparedwith this."
"What on earth is it," asked Dick, "that makes these fellows so crazy tokill those that have never done them an injury and that they have nevereven seen? I can understand how the desire for revenge may prompt a manto go to such lengths to get even with an enemy, but why they attackevery one without distinction is beyond me."
"Well," replied the doctor, "it's something with which reason hasnothing to do. The Malays are a bloodthirsty, merciless race. They broodand sulk, until, like that old Roman emperor--Caligula, wasn't it?--theywish that the human race had only one neck, so that they could sever itwith a single blow. They are sick of life and determine to end it all,but before they go, all the pent up poison of hate that has beenfermenting in them finds expression in the desire to take as many aspossible with them. Then too, there may be some obscure religious ideaunderneath it all, of offering to the gods as many victims as possible,and thus winning favor for themselves. Or, like the savage despots ofAfrica, who decree that when they are buried hundreds of their subjectsshall be slaughtered and buried in the same grave, they may feel thattheir victims will have to serve them in the future world. Scientistshave never analyzed the matter satisfactorily."
"Well," said Dick, as they rose from the table, "one doesn't have to bea scientist to know this much at least--that wherever a crazy Malayhappens to be, it's a mighty healthy thing to be somewhere else."
"I guess nobody aboard this steamer would be inclined to dispute that,"laughed the doctor, as they separated and went on deck.
Although his duties did not begin until the following day, Bert waseager beyond anything else to inspect the wireless equipment of theship, and went at once to the wireless room, followed by the others.
It was with immense satisfaction that he established that here hehad under his hand the very latest in wireless telegraphy. From thespark key to the antennae, waving from the highest mast of the ship,everything was of the most approved and up to date type. No matter howskilful the workman, he is crippled by lack of proper tools; and Bert'sheart exulted as he realized that, in this respect, at least he had noreason for complaint.
"It's a dandy plant, fellows," he gloated. "There aren't many Atlanticliners have anything on this."
"How far can she talk, Bert?" asked Dick, examining the apparatus withthe keenest interest.
"That depends on the weather, very largely," answered Bert. "Underalmost any conditions she's good for five hundred miles, and when thingsare just right, two or three times as far."
"What's the limit, anyway, Bert?" asked Tom. "How far have they beenable to send under the very best conditions?"
"I don't believe there is any real limit," answered Bert. "I haven't anydoubt that, before many years, they'll be able to talk half way roundthe world. Puck, you know, in the 'Midsummer Night's Dream' boasted thathe would 'put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.' Well, thewireless will go him one better, and go round in less than fortyseconds. Why, only the other day at Washington, when the weatherconditions were just right, the officials there heard two stationstalking to each other, off the coast of Chili, six or seven thousandmiles away. Of course, ships will never talk at that distance, becausethey can't get a high enough mast or tower to overcome the curvature ofthe earth. But from land stations it is only a question of getting ahigh enough tower. They can talk easily now from Berlin to Sayville,Long Island, four thousand miles, by means of towers seven or eighthundred feet high. The Eiffel Tower at Paris, because still higher, hasa longer range. It isn't so very long ago that they were glad enough totalk across a little creek or canal, a few feet wide. Then they tried anisland, three or four miles away, then another, fourteen miles from themainland. By the time they had done that, they knew that they had theright principle, and that it was only a matter of time before they'dbind the ends of the earth together. It started as a creeping infant;now, it's a giant, going round the world in its seven league boots."
"Hear hear," cried Dick, "how eloquent Bert is getting. He'll bedropping into poetry next."
"Well," chipped in Tom, "there _is_ poetry sure enough in the crash
ofthe spark and its leap out into the dark over the tumbling waves fromone continent to another, but, to me, it's more like witchcraft. It'slucky Marconi didn't live two or three hundred years ago. He'd surelyhave been burned at the stake, for dabbling in black magic."
"Yes," rejoined Bert, "and Edison and Tesla would have kept him company.But now clear out, you fellows, and let me play with this toy of mine. Iwant to get next to all its quips and quirks and cranks and curves, andI can't do it with you dubs talking of poets and witches. Skip, now,"and he laughingly shooed them on deck.
Left to himself, he went carefully over every detail of the equipment.Everything--detector, transmitter, tuning coil and all the otherparts--were subjected to the most minute and critical inspection,and all stood the test royally. It was evident that no niggardlyconsideration of expense had prevented the installation of the latestand best materials. Bert's touch was almost caressing, as he handled thevarious parts, and his heart thrilled with a certain sense of ownership.There had been a wireless plant at one of the college buildings, and hehad become very expert in its use; but hundreds of others had used it,too, and he was only one among many. Moreover, that plant had filled nopart in the great world of commerce or of life, except for purposes ofinstruction. But this was the real thing, and from the time the steamerleft the wharf until, on its return, it again swung into moorings, hewould be in complete control. How many times along the invisible currentwould he feel the pulsing of the world's heart; what messages of joy orpain or peril would go from him or come to him, as he sat with hisfinger on the key and the receiver at his ear! He stood on the thresholdof a new world, and it was a long time before he tore himself away, andwent to rejoin his friends on the upper deck.
A young man, whose figure had something familiar about it was pacing toand fro. Bert cudgeled his memory. Of whom did it remind him? The youngman turned and their eyes met. There was a start of recognition.
"Why, this must be Bert Wilson," said the newcomer, extending his hand.
"Yes," replied Bert, grasping it warmly, "and you are Ralph Quinby orhis double."
"Quinby, sure enough," laughed Ralph, "and delighted to see you again.But what on earth brings you here, three thousand miles from home?"
"I expect to be twelve thousand miles from home before I get through,"answered Bert; and then he told him of his engagement as wirelessoperator for the voyage.
"That's splendid," said Ralph, heartily. "We'll have no end of fun. Iwas just feeling a bit down in the mouth, because I didn't know a soulon board except the captain. You see, my father is manager of the line,and he wanted me to take the trip, so that I could enlarge my experienceand be fit to step into his shoes when he gets ready to retire. So that,in a way, it's a pleasure and business trip combined."
"Here are some other fellows you know," remarked Bert, as he beckoned toTom and Dick who came over from the rail.
They needed no introduction. A flood of memories swept over them as theyshook hands. They saw again the automobile race, when Ralph in the"_Gray Ghost_" and Bert at the wheel of the "_Red Scout_" had struggledfor the mastery. Before their eyes rose the crowded stands; they heardthe deafening cheers and the roar of the exhausts; they saw again thatlast desperate spurt, when, with the throttle wide open, the "Red Scout"had challenged its gallant enemy in the stretch and flashed over theline, a winner.
That Ralph remembered it too was evident from the merry twinkle in hiseyes, as he looked from one to the other of the group.
"You made me take your dust that day, all right," he said, "but I'venever felt sore over that for a minute. It was a fair and square race,and the best car and the best driver won."
"Not on your life," interjected Bert, warmly. "The best car, perhaps,but not the best driver. You got every ounce of speed out of yourmachine that anyone could, and after all it was only a matter of inchesat the finish."
"Well, it was dandy sport, anyway, win or lose," returned Ralph. "By theway, I have the 'Gray Ghost' with me now. It's crated up on the forwarddeck, and will be put down in the hold to-morrow. So come along now, andtake a look at it."
There, sure enough, was the long, powerful, gray car, looking "fitto run for a man's life," as Ralph declared, while he patted itaffectionately.
"I thought I'd bring it along," he said, "to use while we are in port atour various stopping places. It will take a good many days to unload,and then ship our return cargo, and, if the roads are good, we'll showthe natives some new wrinkles in the way of fancy driving. We're all ofus auto fiends, and I want you to feel that the car is as much yours asmine, all through the trip. That is," he added, mischievously, "if youfellows don't feel too haughty to ride in a car that you've alreadybeaten."
With jest and laughter, the time passed rapidly. The evening deepened,and a hush fell over the waters of the bay. Lanterns twinkled here andthere like fireflies among the shipping, while from an occasional boatrose the tinkling of a banjo or guitar. From the shore side came thenight sounds of the great city, sitting proudly on her many hills andcrowned with innumerable lights. Silence gathered over the little group,as they gazed, and each was busy with his own thoughts. This loved landof theirs--by this time to-morrow, it would be out of sight below thehorizon. Who knew when they would see it again, or through what perilsthey might pass before they once more touched its shores? It was thelittle shiver before the plunge, as they stood upon the brink of theunknown; and they were a trifle more quiet than usual, when at last theysaid good-night and sought forgetfulness in sleep.
Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator Page 2