Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator

by Marion Ames Taggart

  CHAPTER XII

  AMONG THE CANNIBALS

  The routine life of shipboard wore quietly on for several days withoutinterruption. The staunch ship held steadily on its course, and theceaseless vibrations of its engines came to be as unnoticed and asunthought of as the beatings of their own hearts. There had been nostorms for some time, as indeed there seldom were at this time of theyear, and Bert's duties as wireless operator occupied comparativelylittle of his time. He had plenty left, therefore, to spend with Dickand Tom, and they had little trouble in finding a way to occupy theirleisure with pleasure and profit to themselves and others.

  A favorite resort was the engine room, where in spite of the heatthey spent many a pleasant hour in company with the chief engineer,MacGregor. The latter was a shaggy old Scotchman with a most stern andforbidding exterior, but a heart underneath that took a warm liking tothe three comrades, much to the surprise and disgust of the force ofstokers and "wipers" under him.

  "And phwat do yez think of the old man?" one was heard to remark to hiscompanion one day. "There was a toime when the chief 'ud look sour andgrumble if the cap'n himself so much as poked his nose inside the engineroom gratin', and now here he lets thim young spalpeens run all ovir theplace, wid never a kick out o' him."

  "Sure, an' Oi've ben noticin' the same," agreed his companion, "an'phwat's more, he answers all their questions wid good natur', and nivirseems to have ony desire to dhrop a wrinch on their noodles."

  "Perhaps 'tis because the youngsters ask him nothin' but sinsiblequestions, as ye may have noticed," said he who had spoken first, as heleaned on his shovel for a brief rest. "Shure, an' it's me privateopinion that the young cubs know 'most as much about the engines as oldMac himsilf."

  "Thrue fer you," said the other. "Only yisterday, if O'im not mistaken,young Wilson, him as runs the wireless outfit for the ship, was downhere, and they were havin' a argyment regardin' the advantages of thereciprocatin' engines over the new steam turbins, an' roast me in me ownfurnace if I don't think the youngster had the goods on the old manright up t' the finish."

  "Oi wouldn't be su'prised at ahl, at ahl," agreed his companion. "Theyoung felly has a head for engines, an' no mistake. He's got a lot o'book larnin' about 'em, too."

  It was indeed as the stokers said, and a strong friendship and mutualregard had sprung up between the grizzled old engineer and theenthusiastic wireless operator. As our readers doubtless remember, Berthad been familiar with things mechanical since boyhood, and during hiscollege course had kept up his knowledge by a careful reading of thelatest magazines and periodicals given over to mechanical research.Needless to say, his ideas were all most modern, while on the part ofthe chief engineer there was a tendency to stick to the tried andtested things of mechanics and fight very shy of all inventions andinnovations.

  However, each realized that the other knew what he was talking about,and each had a respect for the opinions of the other. This did notprevent their having long arguments at times, however, in which aperfect shower and deluge of technical words and descriptions filled theair. It seldom happened, though, that either caused the other to alterhis original stand in the slightest degree, as is generally the case inall arguments of any sort.

  But the engineer was always ready to explain things about the ponderousengines that Bert did not fully understand, and there were constantproblems arising from Bert's inspection of the beautifully mademachinery that only the engineer, of all on board, could solve for him.Bert always found a fascination in watching the powerful engines andwould sit for hours at a time, when he was at leisure, watching eachingenious part do its work, with an interest that never flagged.

  He loved to study the movements of the mighty pistons as they rose andfell like the arm of some immense giant, and speculate on the terrificpower employed in every stroke. The shining, smooth, well-oiledmachinery seemed more beautiful to Bert than any picture he had everseen, and the regular click and chug of the valves was music. Everypiece of brass, nickel and steel work in the engine room was spotlesslyclean, and glittered and flickered in the glow from the electric lights.

  Sometimes he and MacGregor would sit in companionable silence for anhour at a time, listening to the hiss of steam as it rushed into thehuge cylinders, and was then expelled on the upward stroke of thepiston. MacGregor loved his engines as he might a pet cat or dog, andoften patted them lovingly when he was sure nobody was around to observehis actions.

  Once the engineer had taken Bert back along the course of the bigpropeller shaft to where it left the ship, water being prevented fromleaking in around the opening by means of stuffing boxes. At intervalsthe shaft was supported by bearings made of bronze, and as they passedthem the old man always passed his hand over them to find out if by anychance one was getting warm on account of the friction caused by lack ofproper lubrication.

  "For it's an afu' thing," he said to Bert, shaking his head, "to have ashaft break when you're in the ragin' midst of a storm. It happened tome once, an' the second vayage I evir took as chief engineer, and I haeno desire t' repeat the experience."

  "What did you do about it?" inquired Bert.

  "We did the anly thing there was to be done, son. We set the wholeengine room force drillin' holes thrae the big shaft, and then weriveted a wee snug collar on it, and proceeded on our way. Two days andtwo nights we were at it, with the puir bonnie ship driftin' helpless,an' the great waves nigh breakin' in her sides. Never a wink o' sleepdid I get during the hale time, and none of the force under me got muchmore. Ye may believe it was a fair happy moment for all of us when weeased the steam into the low pressure cylinder and saw that the job waslike to hold until we got tae port. Nae, nae, one experience like thotis sufficient tae hold a mon a lifetime."

  "I should think it would be," said Bert. "You generally hear a lotabout the romantic side of accidents at sea, but I guess the peopleactually mixed up in them look at the matter from a different point ofview."

  "Nae doot, nae doot," agreed the old Scotsman, "and what credit do yesuppose we got for all our work? The papers were full o' the bravery andcael headedness the skipper had exhibited, but what o' us poor deilswha' had sweated and slaved twae mortal day an nichts in a swelterin',suffercatin' hold, whi' sure death for us gin anything sprang a leak andthe ship sank? Wae'd a' had nae chanct t' git on deck and in a boat.Wae'd have been drounded like wee rats in a trap. I prasume nobodythocht o' that, howiver."

  "That's the way it generally works out, I've noticed," said Bert. "Ofcourse, many times the captain does deserve much or all the credit, butthe newspapers never take the trouble to find out the facts. You can betyour case wasn't the first of the kind that ever occurred."

  "'Tis as you say," agreed the engineer; "but nae we must back to theengine room, me laddie. I canna feel easy when I am far frae it."

  Accordingly they retraced their course, and were soon back in the roomwhere the machinery toiled patiently day and night, never groaning orcomplaining when taken proper care of, as you may be sure these engineswere. MacGregor would have preferred to have somebody make a slightingremark about him than about his idolized engines, and would have beenless quick to resent it.

  Bert was about to take his leave, when suddenly Tom and Dick cametumbling recklessly down the steep ladder leading to the engine room,and fairly fell down the last few rounds.

  "Say, Bert, beat it up on deck," exclaimed Tom, as soon as he was ableto get his breath. "We sighted an island an hour or so ago, and as weget nearer to it we can see that there's a signal of some sort on it.Captain Manning says that none of the islands hereabout are inhabited,so it looks as though somebody had been shipwrecked there. The skipper'sordered the course changed so as to head straight toward it, and weought to be within landing distance in less than an hour."

  "Hooray!" yelled Bert. "I'll give you a race up, fellows, and see whogets on deck first," and so saying he made a dive for the ladder. Dickand Tom made a rush to intercept him, but Bert beat them by a fractionof an inch, and went up
the steep iron ladder with as much agility asany monkey. The others were close at his heels, however, and in lesstime than it takes to tell they were all on deck.

  Dick and Tom pointed out the island to Bert, and there, sure enough, hesaw what appeared to be a remnant of some flag nailed to an uprightbranch planted in the ground. They were not more than a mile from theisland by this time, and soon Captain Manning rang the gong for halfspeed ahead. A few moments later he gave the signal to shut off power,and the vibration of the ship's engines ceased abruptly. The suddenstopping of the vibration to which by now they had become so accustomedthat it seemed part of life came almost like a blow to the three youngmen, and they were obliged to laugh.

  "Gee, but that certainly seems queer," said Tom. "It seems to me asthough I must have been used to that jarring all my life."

  "Well," said Dick, "it certainly feels unusual now, but I will beperfectly willing to exchange it for a little trip on good, solid land.I hope we can persuade the captain to let us go ashore with the men."

  The captain's consent was easily obtained, and they then awaitedimpatiently for the boat to be launched that was to take them to theisland.

  The island was surrounded by a coral reef, in which at first thereappeared to be no opening. On closer inspection, however, when theyhad rowed close up to it, they found a narrow entrance, that theywould never have been able to use had the water been at all rough.Fortunately, however, the weather had been very calm for several dayspast, so they had little difficulty in manoeuvering the boat throughthe narrow opening. As it was, however, once or twice they could hearthe sharp coral projections scrape against the boat's sides, and theyfound time even in their impatience to land to wonder what would happento any ship unfortunate enough to be tossed against the reef.

  After they had passed the reef all was clear sailing, and a few momentslater the boat grated gently on a sloping beach of dazzling white sand,and the sailor in the bow leapt ashore and drew the boat a little way upon the beach. Then they all jumped out and stood scanning what theycould see of the place for some sign of life other than that of thesignal they had seen from the ship. This now hung limply down around thepole, and no sound was to be heard save the lap of the waves against thereef and an occasional bird note from the rim of trees that began wherethe white sand ended.

  The green trees and vegetation stood out in sharp relief contrasted withthe white beach and the azure sky, and the three boys felt a tingle ofexcitement run through their veins. Here was just such a setting foradventures and romance as they had read about often in books, but hadhardly dared ever hope to see. This might be an island where CaptainKidd had made his headquarters and buried priceless treasure, some ofwhich at that moment might lie under the sand on which they werestanding. The green jungle in front of them might contain any number ofadventures and hair-raising exploits ready to the hand of any one whocame to seek, and at the thought the spirits of all three kindled.

  "This is the chance of a lifetime, fellows," said Bert, in a low voice,"if we don't get some excitement out of this worth remembering, I thinkit will be our own fault."

  "That's what," agreed Dick, "why in time don't we get busy and dosomething. We won't find the person who put up that signal by standinghere and talking. I want to make a break for those trees and see what wecan find there."

  "Same here," said Tom, "and I guess we're going to do something at last,by the looks of things."

  Mr. Miller, the second mate, who had been placed in charge of the party,had indeed arrived at a decision, and now made it known to the wholegroup.

  "I think the best thing we can do," he said, "is to skirt the forestthere and see if we can find anything that looks like a path or trail.If there's any living thing on this island it must have left some sortof a trace."

  This was done accordingly, and in a short time they were walking alongthe edge of the jungle, each one straining his eyes for any indicationof a trail. At first they met with no success, but finally Tom gave awhoop. "Here we are," he yelled, "here's a path, or something that looksa whole lot like one, leading straight into the forest. Come along,fellows," and he started on a run along an almost obliterated trail thateverybody else had overlooked.

  You may be sure Bert and Dick were not far behind him, and were soonfollowing close on his heels. After they had gone a short distance inthis reckless fashion they were forced to slow down on account of theheat, which was overpowering. Also, as they advanced, the underbrushbecame thicker and thicker, and it soon became difficult to make anyprogress at all. Great roots and vines grew in tangled luxuriance acrossthe path, and more than once one of them tripped and measured his lengthon the ground.

  Soon they felt glad to be able to progress even at a walk, and Bertsaid, "We want to remember landmarks that we pass, fellows, so that wecan be sure of finding our way back. It wouldn't be very hard to wanderoff this apology of a path, and find ourselves lost."

  "Like the babes in the woods," supplemented Dick, with a laugh.

  "Exactly," grinned Bert, "and I don't feel like doing any stunts alongthat line myself just at present."

  These words were hardly out of his mouth when the path suddenly widenedout into a little opening or glade, and the boys stopped abruptly to gettheir bearings.

  "Look! over there, fellows," said Bert, in an excited voice. "If I'm notvery much mistaken there's a hut over there, see, by that big tree--no,no, you simps, the big one with the wild grape vine twisted all over it.See it now?"

  It was easy to see that they did, for they both hurried over toward thelittle shack at a run, but Bert had started even before they had, andbeat them to it. They could gather little information from its contentswhen they arrived, however. Inside were a few ragged pieces of clothing,and in one corner a bed constructed of twigs and branches. In additionto these there was a rude chair constructed of boughs of trees, and tiedtogether with bits of string and twine. It was evident from this,however, that some civilized person had at one time inhabited the place,and at a recent date, too, for otherwise the hut would have been in amore dilapidated condition than that in which they found it.

  They rummaged around, scattering the materials of which the bed wasconstructed to left and right. Suddenly Tom gave a yell and pounced onsomething that he had unearthed.

  "Why don't you do as I do, pick things up and look for them afterward?"he said, excitedly.

  "What is it? What did you find?" queried Bert, who was more inclined tobe sure of his ground before he became enthusiastic. "It looks a gooddeal like any other old memorandum book, as far as I can see."

  "All right, then, we'll read it and see what _is_ in it," replied Tom."Why, it's a record of somebody's life on the island here. I supposemaybe you think that's nothing to find, huh?"

  Without waiting for a reply he started to read the mildewed old book,and Bert and Dick read also, over his shoulder.

  The first entry was dated about a month previous to the time of reading,and seemed to be simply a rough jotting down of the important events inthe castaway's life for future reference. There were records of the man,whoever he might be, having found the spring beside which he had builtthe hut in which they were now standing; of his having erected the rudeshelter, and a good many other details.

  The three boys read the scribbled account with breathless interest, asTom turned over page after page. "Come on, skip over to the last page,"said Bert at last, "we can read all this some other time, and I'm crazyto know what happened to the fellow, whoever he is. Maybe he's writtenthat down, too, since he seems to be so methodical."

  In compliance with this suggestion, Tom turned to the last written pageof the note-book, and what the boys read there caused them to gasp. Itwas scribbled in a manner that indicated furious haste, and read asfollows:

  "Whoever you are who read this, for heaven's sake come to my aid, if itis not too late. Last night I was awakened by having my throat graspedin a grip of iron, and before I could even start to struggle I was boundsecurely. By the light of torches
held by my captors I could see that Iwas captured by a band of black-skinned savages. After securing mebeyond any chance of escape, they paid little further attention to me,and held what was apparently a conference regarding my disposal. Finallythey made preparations to depart, but first cooked a rude meal and myhands were unbound to enable me to eat. At the first opportunity Iscrawled this account, in the hope that some party seeing my signal,might by chance find it, and be able to help me. As the savages travel Iwill try to leave some trace of our progress, so you can follow us. Ionly hope--" but here the message ended suddenly, leaving the boys todraw their own conclusions as to the rest of it.

  For a few moments they gazed blankly into each other's faces, anduttered never a word. Bert was the first to break the silence.

  "I guess it's up to us, fellows," he said, and the manly lines of hisface hardened. "We've got to do something to help that poor devil, andthe sooner we start the better. According to the dates in this book itmust have been last Thursday night that he was captured, and this isMonday. If we hurry we may be able to trace him up and do something forhim before it's too late."

  The thought that they themselves might be captured or meet with ahorrible death did not seem to enter the head of one of them. Theysimply saw plainly that it was, as Bert had said, "up to them" to do thebest they could under the circumstances, and this they proceeded to dowithout further loss of time.

  "The first thing to do," said Bert, "is to scout around and see if wecan find the place where the savages left the clearing with theirprisoner. Then it will be our own fault if we cannot follow the trail."

  This seemed more easily said than done, however, and it was some timebefore the three, fretting and impatient at the delay, were able tofind any clue. At last Bert gave an exultant whoop and beckoned theothers over to where he stood.

  "I'll bet any amount of money this is where they entered the jungle," hesaid, exultantly. "Their prisoner evidently evaded their observationwhile they were breaking a path through, and pinned this on the bushhere," and he held up a corner of a white linen handkerchief, with theinitial M embroidered on the corner.

  "Gee, I guess you're right," agreed Dick. "Things like that don'tusually grow on bushes. It ought to be easy for us to trace the partynow."

  This proved to be far from the actual case, however, and if it had notbeen for the occasional scraps of clothing fluttering from a twigor bush every now and then their search would have probably endedin failure. So rank and luxuriant is the jungle growth in tropicalclimates, that although in all probability a considerable body of menhad passed that way only a few days before, practically all trace oftheir progress was gone. The thick underbrush grew as densely as ever,and it would have seemed to one not skilled in woodland arts that thefoot of man had never trod there. Monkeys chattered in the trees as theywent along, and parrots with rainbow plumage shot among the loftybranches, uttering raucous cries. Humming clouds of mosquitoes rose andgathered about their heads, and added to the heat to make their journeyone of torment.

  Their previous experience as campers now stood them in good stead, andthey read without much trouble signs of the progress of the party infront of them that they must surely have missed otherwise.

  After three hours of dogged plodding, in which few words were exchanged,Bert said, "I don't think we can have very much further to go, fellows.I remember the captain saying that this island was not more than a fewmiles across in any direction, and we must have traveled some distancealready. We're bound to stumble on their camp soon, so we'd better beprepared."

  "Probably by this time," said Tom, "the savages will have returned tothe mainland, or some other island from which they came. I don't thinkit very likely that they live permanently on this one. It seems toosmall."

  "Yes, I thought of that," said Bert, "but we've got to take our chanceon that. If they are gone, there is nothing else we can do, and we cansay we did our best, anyway."

  "But what shall we do when we find them?" asked Tom, after a shortpause, "provided, of course, that our birds haven't flown."

  "Oh, we'll have to see how matters stand, and make our plansaccordingly," replied Bert. "You fellows had better make sure yourrevolvers are in perfect order. I have a hunch that we'll need thembefore we get through with this business."

  Fortunately, before leaving the ship the boys had, at Bert's suggestion,strapped on their revolvers, and each had slipped a handful of cartridgesinto their pockets.

  "The chances are a hundred to one we won't need them at all," Bert hadsaid at the time. "But if anything _should_ come up where we'll needthem, we'll probably be mighty glad we brought them."

  The boys were very thankful for this now, as without the trusty littleweapons their adventure would have been sheer madness. As it was,however, the feel of the compact .45's was very reassuring, and theyfelt that they would at least have a fighting chance, if worse came toworst, and they were forced to battle for their lives.