The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Atlantic

by John Henry Goldfrap

  Jack’s pulses beat fast as he heard. Could it be that the _Ajax_ was tomake no effort to rescue the crew of the wreck? His heart throbbed as ifit would choke him. He felt suddenly angry, furiously angry with thethree men on the bridge, who stood so calmly talking over the situationwhile, less than a mile away, there was a wrecked ship wallowing in themighty seas without a chance for her life.

  Had he dared, he would have stepped forward and volunteered to form partof a boat’s crew, no matter what the risk. His father’s seafaring bloodran in his veins, and he could recall hearing both Captain Amos Readyand his Uncle Toby recounting to each other, over their pipes, tales ofsea-rescues.

  “Uncle Toby is right,” thought the boy, with a white-hot flush ofindignation; “seamanship is dead nowadays. The men who go to sea inthese steel tanks are without hearts.”

  They rose on the top of another mountainous wave and Jack had his firstgood view of the forlorn wreck. She was evidently a sailing vessel,although of what rig could not be made out, for her masts were gone. Amore hopeless, melancholy sight than this storm-riven, sea-rackedderelict could not be imagined. Her bowsprit still remained, and as sherose upward on a wave with the star pointed to the scurrying grayclouds, Jack’s excited fancy saw in it a mute appeal for aid.

  And still the three officers stood talking, as the _Ajax_ ploughed on.No attempt had been made to veer from her course.

  “They’re going to leave her without trying to help her,” choked Jack,clenching his hands. “Oh! the cowards! the cowards!”

  The boy made an impulsive step forward. In his excitement he wasreckless of what he did. But, luckily, he came to his senses in time.Checking himself, he gloweringly watched the captain step to thewheel-house. As he did so, the commanding officer beckoned to Jack.

  “I suppose he’s going to haul me over the coals for standing abouthere,” muttered the boy to himself; and then, impulsively, “but I don’tcare. I’ll tell him what I think of him if he does!”

  With defiance in his heart, Jack, nevertheless, hastened forward to obeyCaptain Braceworth’s motioned order.

  Within the wheel-house the hub-bub of the storm was shut out. It waspossible to speak without shouting. The captain’s face bore a puzzledfrown as if he were thinking over some difficult problem. As Jackentered the wheel-house, he swung round on the boy:

  “Oh, Ready! Stand by there a moment. I may have an order to give you.”

  He stepped over to the speaking tube and hailed the engine-room.

  “He’s going to give some order about saving that ship,” said the boy tohimself.

  But no. Captain Braceworth’s orders appeared to have nothing to do withany such plan. Jack felt his indignation surging up again as thecommander, in a steady, measured voice, gave a lot of orders which, sofar as Jack could hear, had to deal with pipes, pumps and somethingabout the cargo. At all events, the boy caught the word “oil.”

  “Well, if that isn’t the limit for hard-heartedness!” thought the lad tohimself as he heard the calm, even tones. “What have a lot ofmonkey-wrench sailors like those fellows in the engineers’ department todo with saving lives, I’d like to know! If this was my dad’s ship, I’llbet that he’d have a boat on the way to that wreck now.”

  He gazed out of a port-hole. The wreck was still visible as the _Ajax_rode the high seas. From one of the stumps of the broken masts flutteredsome sort of a signal. Jack fancied it might be the ensign reversed, auniversal sign of distress on the high seas. But what ensign it was, hecould not, of course, make out.

  It seemed to him, too, that he could distinguish some figures on thedecks, but of this he could not be certain.

  “They may all be dead while this cowardly skipper is chatting with theengine-room,” he thought angrily.

  “Ready!”

  “Yes, sir.” It was with difficulty that Jack spoke even respectfully. Hefelt desperate, disgusted with all on board the “tanker.”

  “I want you to stand by your wireless. Try to pick up some othersteamer. Tell them there is a ship in distress out there. Wait aminute,—here’s the latitude and longitude. Send that, if you chance topick anybody up.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  Fairly bursting with anger, Jack hurried off. He did not dare to let thecaptain see his face. He was naturally a frank, honest youth and hisemotions showed plainly on his countenance when his feelings werestrong.

  So, after all, this miserable skipper was going to run off and desertthat poor battered wreck! He was going to leave the work for somebodyelse, for some other ship, for some captain braver than himself toundertake.

  As he was entering his wireless room, he encountered Raynor.

  “What’s up? You look as black as a thunderstorm,” said the youngengineer.

  “No wonder,” burst out Jack, his indignation overflowing; “we’redeserting a wreck off yonder. The old man’s lost his nerve, that’s what.I’d volunteer in a moment. He ought to have launched a boat an hourago.”

  “Hold on, hold on,” said Raynor, laying a hand on the excited lad’sshoulder; “we couldn’t do anything in this sea, anyhow. The old man’sall right.—Ah! Look! What did I tell you!”

  From the signal halliards above the bridge deck, a signal had just beenbroken out. The bits of bunting flared out brightly against the leadensky.

  “We will stand by you,” was the message young Raynor, who knew somethingof the International Code, spelled out.

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  CHAPTER IX.

  A TALK ON WIRELESS.

  “Good for him!” cried Jack, surprised into what was almost a cheer.“But,” he added grudgingly, “he took long enough about it.”

  “Suppose you go ahead and attend to your end of the job and let theskipper manage his,” rejoined Raynor, in a quiet voice; and Jack, with avery red pair of ears, set himself down to the key.

  The young third engineer was off watch, so he took a seat on the edge ofJack’s bunk and watched the lad manipulating the key with deft, certainfingers.

  Crack-ger-ack-ack-ack! Crack-ger-ack-ack-ack! whined the spark as theboy alternately depressed and released the sending key. Then he switchedover to “listen in.”

  But no answering sounds beat against his ears. The signal had,apparently, fallen still-born on the wings of the storm. This went onfor some fifteen minutes and then Jack gave up for a time.

  “Nothing in our field or else my waves are too weak,” he explained toyoung Raynor, who listened with interest.

  “I don’t understand what your wireless gibberish means,” he laughed,“but if you’ll teach me, I’ll learn some day.”

  “Sure you will,” said Jack cheerfully; “it’s as easy as rolling off alog.”

  “Yes, when you know how,” rejoined Raynor.

  They sat silently for a time, while Jack again tried to raise some othership, but without success.

  “Looks as if the ocean must be empty just about here,” he commented.

  “Would you be bound to get in touch with another ship if there was onewithin range of your instrument?” asked young Raynor presently.

  “Not necessarily. There might be a dozen things that would interfere.”

  “The storm, for instance?”

  “Not that cause any more than another. There’s a lot that is mysteriousabout the wireless waves. Even to-day, nobody knows all about them.Sometimes, for no apparent cause, they will work better than at othertimes.”

  “On a fine day I suppose they work best.”

  Jack shook his head.

  “On the contrary, at night and on foggy days, the Hertzian waves aresometimes most powerful. All things being equal, though, they workbetter over the sea than the land.”

  “What is the longest distance a message has ever been sent by wireless?”was young Raynor’s next question.

  “The last one I heard of was seven thousand miles. At that distance aship off the co
ast of Brazil heard a call from Caltano, Italy. Think ofthat! That message had traveled across Italy, over the Mediterranean,slap across the northwestern part of Africa, and then went whangingacross the Atlantic to a spot south of the Equator!”

  “Going some,” was young Raynor’s comment.

  “But that isn’t the most wonderful part of it. If that message wentseven thousand miles in one direction, it must have gone an equaldistance in an opposite one. That would make it encircle almost half theworld.”

  “Curves and all?” asked Raynor.

  “Curves and all,” smiled Jack.

  “And how fast does this stuff—the electric waves, I mean—travel?” askedthe young engineer.

  “Well,” said Jack, “it is estimated that a message from this side of theAtlantic would reach the Irish coast in about one-nineteenth of asecond.”

  “Oh, get out! I’m not going to swallow that.”

  “It is true, just the same,” said Jack. “I know it is hard to believe;lots of things about wireless are.”

  “Well, I mean to learn all about it I can.”

  “You’ll find it well worth your while.”

  “I believe that it is the most fascinating thing I’ve ever tackled.”

  “In the meantime, I wish I could raise a ship,” grumbled Jack, againsending out his call.

  “If we were sinking or in urgent difficulties right now, would you stickon the job till we raised some rescue ship?”

  “I hope so. I’d try to,” said Jack modestly. “The history of wirelessshows that every operator who has been called upon to face the music hasdone so without a whimper.”

  While he worked at the key and the spark sent out its crepitant bark,young Raynor peered out at the tumbling sea through the port of thewireless cabin.

  “Hullo!” he exclaimed presently, “we’re swinging round.”

  “I can feel it,” said Jack, as the _Ajax_, instead of breasting theseas, began to roll about in the trough of them.

  The heavy steel hull rolled until it seemed that the funnel and themasts must be torn out by the roots. Both boys hung on for dear life.After a while the motion became easier.

  “Good thing I’m not inclined to be sea-sick,” said Jack, “or this wouldfinish me.”

  He gave up his key for a while and groped his way to Raynor’s side. The_Ajax_ was creeping along and was now not more than half a mile from thewreck. But the meaning of her maneuvers was not very apparent. Jackcould not understand what Captain Braceworth meant to do. Even theinexperienced eye of the young operator told him that it would besuicide to launch a boat in those mountainous seas.

  The two boys opened the door and went to the rail. The _Ajax_ had beatenher way up to windward of the doomed wreck. Suddenly Jack gave a shout.

  “Hurray! Bully for Captain Braceworth! I see his plan now!”

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  CHAPTER X.

  OIL ON TROUBLED WATERS.

  At intervals along the bridge we have mentioned as running between bowand stern superstructures, were tall standpipes connected with pumps inthe engine-room. These were used in discharging the cargo at Antwerp.

  The valves of these pipes had been opened while the boys were in thewireless room, and now, as the pumps were started, jets of thick,dark-colored oil spouted from them.

  As the oil spread on the sea, the wind drove it down in a great band offilmy smoothness toward the tossing wreck. As the oil spread, the bigcombers ceased to break dangerously, and a shimmering, smooth skin ofoil spread over them till they merely rolled beneath it.

  It was like magic to see the way in which the oil calmed the troubledsea.

  “Well, I’ve heard my father tell of skinning a sea with oil-bags,” saidJack, “but I never expected to see it done.”

  “You’ll see stranger things than that if you stay long enough in thisbusiness,” said Raynor sententiously.

  The _Ajax_ slowly cruised around the floundering wreck under reducedspeed, with oil spouting constantly from the standpipes. At last allabout the hulk there was spread a sort of magic circle of smooth, oilywater.

  Jack looked on in an agony of impatience.

  “Surely he’ll send a boat now,” he said to Raynor.

  But the young engineer shook his head.

  “Braceworth isn’t a skipper who holds with doing things in a hurry,” hesaid; “wait a while.”

  “Surely it is smooth enough to launch a boat now,” pursued Jack.

  “If the skipper thought so, he’d do it,” rejoined Raynor.

  The call to dinner came without Jack having secured communication withany other ship. He could only account for this by the supposition thatthe atmospheric conditions were bad. The wireless was evidentlysuffering from an attack of “atmospherics,” as the professionaloperators call it.

  Before going down to his meal, Jack went forward to report to thecaptain. He found the burly commander with a sandwich in one hand and acup of coffee in the other. He was having a snack on the bridge in theshelter of the weather-cloth.

  Jack, despite himself, felt a quick flash of admiration for a man whocould face such discomforts so dauntlessly for the sake of his duty.

  The boy would have liked to ask some questions, but he did not have thecourage. So he stood in silence while the skipper pondered a fullminute.

  “Don’t bother about it any more,” he said at length. “I think we will beable to do without help.”

  Jack could contain himself no longer.

  “Oh, sir, do you think we’ll be able to get those poor fellows off?”

  The captain looked at him sharply.

  “I don’t know anything about it,” he said. “Don’t pester me with foolishquestions. It is eight bells. Be off to your dinner.”

  Jack, abashed, red-faced and angry at what he felt was an undeservedsnub, obeyed. At dinner he told Raynor all about it.

  “Well, if you had been on the bridge all night, maybe you would feelnone too amiable, either,” said his companion.

  “On the bridge all night!” exclaimed Jack, who had no idea that while hewas snug in his bunk the captain had been facing the storm.

  “Of course. Captain Braceworth never leaves the bridge in bad weather,even if this is only a freighter and not a dandy passenger boat withpretty ladies and big swells on board,” retorted Raynor.

  “I—I didn’t know that,” said Jack, rather shamefacedly. “If I had, Iwouldn’t have spoken as I did.”

  “I know that, youngster,” said Raynor. “And now let’s hurry through gruband get up on deck again and see what’s doing. I’ve a notion we’ll seesomething interesting before very long.”

  When the lads returned on deck, they found that the _Ajax_ had madeanother complete circle of the wreck, this time covering the first filmof oil with a thicker one. They were much closer to the wreck now. Jackcould count two figures in the bow and three astern.

  But even as they looked, both boys gave a cry of horror. A huge wave hadswept clear over the floundering hulk, and when it vanished one of themen in the stern had vanished, too.

  “Oh! That’s terrible!” exclaimed Jack. “Why don’t we launch a boat?”

  “No use sacrificing more lives,” said Raynor, with forced calmness,although he was white about the lips. “Braceworth knows what he’s doing,I reckon.”

  “Yes, but to watch those poor fellows—it’s—it’s awful!”

  Jack put his hands over his eyes to shut out, for an instant, thefrantically waving arms of the men on the wreck. They were makingdesperate appeals. Plainly they could not understand why the liner keptcircling them.

  “Brace up, youngster,” said Raynor kindly. “I guess the skipper feels asbad about it as you do, but he won’t act till he can do so safely.”

  The afternoon began to close in. The stormy twilight deepened into duskand found the nerve-wracking waiting still going on. On the great grayseas the b
lack steamer, with a wind-blown plume of smoke pouring fromher salt-encrusted funnel, still solemnly circled the foundering hulk,while the storm clouds raced past overheard.

  But the wind had dropped slightly and the coat of oil that now coveredthe waves prevented their breaking. The _Ajax_, already crawling up onthe weather side of the wreck, appeared to reduce speed.

  “There’s going to be something doing now,” prophesied Raynor.

  On the bridge the captain had summoned Mr. Brown, the third officer.

  “Brown,” he said, “I’m going to make a try to get those fellows off.That craft won’t last till daylight and we could never tackle the job inthe dark.”

  “Just what I think, sir,” rejoined the third mate.

  “Very well; take one of the stern boats. Be very careful. If you hit theside, she’ll smash like an egg-shell and we could never pick you up inthis. I’ll come in as close as I dare, to give you the lee water. Now beoff with you and—good-luck.”

  Mr. Brown hurried aft. He collected his boat crew as he went. The boathe selected was the one hung on patent davits above the wireless room.Young Raynor had been summoned to the engine-room and Jack stood therealone watching the preparations. The blood of his seafaring ancestorsstirred in his veins. Mustering his courage he stepped forward.

  “Mr. Brown, can I go, sir? I can row. Let me go, won’t you?”

  The mate, angry at being disturbed, spun on his heel and glowered at theyoung wireless boy.