The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Atlantic

by John Henry Goldfrap

  “What do you know about a boat?” he demanded. “You’re only a sea-goingtelegraph operator——”

  At that instant the doughty little mate’s eye fell on a hulking bigseaman who was hanging back. Plainly enough the man was afraid. He wasmuttering to himself as if he did not like the prospect of breastingthose giant seas in the small boat.

  The man was a Norwegian seaman, and Mr. Brown, who was an American, madea quick, angry spring for him as if to grip him bodily and compel him togo. Then he suddenly recollected Jack.

  “Well, lad, since that hulking coward is afraid, I’ll give you a chance.Get in and look slippy. We’ve no time to lose.”

  Jack shoved the big sailor aside while the fellow scowled and swore.

  “Get forward, you!” roared little Mr. Brown. “I’ll attend to you when weget back. Now, youngster.”

  But Jack was already in the boat. There was a shouted order and thefalls began to creak in the quadrant davits. For an instant they hungbetween wind and water. Mr. Brown watched with the eye of a cat theproper moment to let go.

  Suddenly the _Ajax_ gave a roll far out to leeward. The boat droppedlike a stone. The patent tackle set her free.

  “Give way, men!” shouted the officer; and in the nick of time to avoidbeing shattered against the steel side of the tank by a big sea, theboat put forth on its errand of mercy.

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  CHAPTER XI.

  TO THE RESCUE.

  Had the seas been breaking, the boat could not have lived a minute. Themoment that she struck the water would have been her last.

  But, thanks to Captain Braceworth’s up-to-date seamanship, theoil-skimmed swells, although high, were smooth, without dangerous sprayand breakers.

  The five seamen and the young wireless man who had volunteered at thelast instant, tugged frantically at the big sweeps. Jack had been guiltyof no exaggeration when he had said he could row. It had been hisfavorite amusement about the bay, and he was as strong as a young colt,anyhow.

  In the stern at the steering oar stood Mr. Brown. His eyes were rivetedon the wreck ahead.

  As a monstrous green swell rushed under the boat he gave a shout:

  “Lay into it, bullies! Pull for the girls, boys! That’s the stuff! Breakyour backs! All together now! We’ll pay Paddy Doyle for his boots!”

  Mr. Brown, in his youth, had been before the mast on a whaler, and inmoments of excitement he went back to the language of whalemen when outin the boats.

  “H-e-a-v-e a-l-l!” he bellowed, with a strength of lung that appearedwonderful in such a diminutive man.

  As the tanker’s boat was pulled by its stalwarts across the heavingseas, the men at the oars, by turning their heads, could see in whatdesperate straits were the handful of survivors.

  “There’s a woman on board!” yelled Mr. Brown suddenly. “Pull for allyou’re worth, my lads! It’s a little girl, by the Polar Star!”

  As if this information had given them new strength, the men gave waywith renewed energy. Jack, by twisting his head, could see, as the boattopped a wave, the sight that had excited Mr. Brown. Astern, lashed tothe stump of the mizzen-mast, was the figure of a tall, spare,gray-haired man. His arms were clasped tightly around a young girl,whose hair was whipped out wildly by the wind.

  Near by, another form was lashed to the wheel, while forward were twofigures, apparently those of sailors. They also were tied, in this caseto the windlass. This fact alone betrayed the desperate conditionsthrough which the unfortunate craft had fought her way.

  “She’s a down-easter, from Nova Scotia or Maine. Lumber, I guess,”opined Mr. Brown. “Good thing for them they had a lumber cargo, or she’dhave been keeping company with Davy Jones by this time. Give way, men!”

  But all Mr. Brown’s urgings to “hit it up” were unneeded. The crew ofthe boat were all Americans, and anyone who knows the merchant navy ofto-day, knows that it is by a rare chance that such a thing happens.American ships are largely manned by foreigners; but aboard the_Ajax_,—Captain Braceworth was particular in this respect,—the majorityof the crew were American. Consequently, they needed no driving to dotheir duty when lives were at stake.

  Jack, tugging at his oar, felt the strength of ten men. His whole beingthrilled to the glory of the adventure. This was real seaman’s work.This was no job for a monkey-wrench sailor, but a man’s task, requiringstrength, grit and nerve.

  But as they drew alongside the wreck, it was apparent that any attemptto get close enough to take off the crew must infallibly end indisaster.

  Mr. Brown turned to his crew.

  “Men, which of you can swim? I’m like a lame duck in the water or I’d doit myself.” (And nobody doubted that he would.) “We’ve got to get a lineto that craft.”

  Jack’s face flushed with excitement. He would prove worthy of his lineof sea-going forbears.

  “I can swim like a fish, sir! Let me try it!”

  At the same time that he spoke, four other voices expressed theirwillingness to try. Mr. Brown looked at Jack.

  “This is no job for a wireless kid to tackle,” he said grimly. “Dobson,you spoke next. I’ll send you. Get ready and make fast a line aroundyour waist.”

  But Dobson was already knotting a line about his middle. He stripped tohis underwear, and, while Jack looked on with bitter disappointment inhis face, the man tossed one end of the line to Mr. Brown and then,without a word, plunged overboard.

  Jack watched him with a thrill of admiration, as with strong, confidentstrokes he cleft the sea. Then he looked in another direction. Off tothe leeward was the _Ajax_, tossing on the seas for an instant and thenvanishing till only the tops of her masts and a smudge of smoke werevisible.

  It was growing dusk. A wan, gray light filled the air. The next time thesteamer rose on a swell, Jack saw that at her mast-head the ridinglights had been switched on. They glowed like jewels in the monotonoussea-scape of lead and dull green.

  Dobson reached the wreck. With clever generalship he had waited for abig sea, and then, as it rose high, he had ridden on it straight for thevessel. When the sea swept by, they saw him clinging to the main chainsand after an instant begin clambering on board with the line trailingfrom his waist.

  Those in the boat broke into a wild cheer. Jack’s voice rang out abovethe rest.

  “There’s a real seaman,” he thought; “one of the kind my father andUncle Toby were.”

  As the hoarse shouts of the men in the boat rang over the waters, theysaw the form of Dobson creeping aft along the wreckage. They watchedthrough the thickening light as the shadowy figure toiled along. Hegained the side of the old man and the little girl.

  Taking the line from his waist, he made it fast to the latter’s body.

  “Give way, men,” ordered Mr. Brown, and the boat was warily maneuveredunder the stern of the wreck. It was dangerous, risky work, but whilethe small craft tossed almost under the derelict’s counter, the forms ofthe old man and the child were lowered into her. Although both werebadly exhausted, there were stimulants in the boat, and Mr. Brownpronounced both to be safe and sound and not in any danger.

  But the seaman who had made the rescues was, himself, in no conditionafter his long, hard swim to do any more. When the girl and the old manwere safe in the boat, he, too, made a wild leap and boarded it.Immediately it was sheered off.

  Jack’s heart gave a wild leap. There were still two men in the bow. Whatabout them?

  There was a second line in the boat and the young wireless man hadalready made it fast around his middle.

  “It’s my turn now, Mr. Brown,” he urged. “Let me go now, won’t you, andget those two poor fellows in the bow?”

  “Shut your mouth and sit still,” came hotly from Mr. Brown; and then asudden exclamation, “Great guns! He’s as brave a young idiot as I eversaw!”

  For Jack had taken the law into his own hands, leaped overboar
d into theboiling sea and was now swimming with bold, confident strokes toward thedim outlines of the derelict’s bow.

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  Jack leaped overboard into the boiling sea.—_Page 94_]

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  CHAPTER XII.

  JACK DISOBEYS ORDERS.

  Outlined dimly in the distant gloom was the hulk of the steamer. Herwhistle was shrieking hoarsely, now sounding, as the mate guessed, arecall to the rescue boat before darkness closed in.

  Jack was a strong, able swimmer, but never had he received such abreath-taking buffeting as fell to his lot in that wild commotion ofwaters. But with grim determination he fought his way to the ship’sside. Those in the boat saw him gain a foothold on the anchor chains andscramble upward; but they could not guess what a supreme effort of nerveand muscle those last few moments cost him.

  As he gained the deck he was compelled, perforce, to cast himselfgasping on his face, and so he lay for a space. Then, from the gloom,came a feeble call for help. It nerved him with fresh vim. Among thetangled wreckage he scrambled till he reached the place where the twomen were lashed to the bitts.

  Thanks to the oil-spread waters, the seas were no longer breaking overthe wreck, but the two men who had lashed themselves there to avoidbeing swept over the side, were too feeble to sever their ties. Jack cutthem loose and signaled to the boat. It was brought as close alongsideas Mr. Brown dared, and one after the other the two seamen were hauledon board. Last of all came Jack. He secured the rope to his waist as itcame snaking toward him from the boat like a lasso, and then jumpedoutward. As he sprang, he felt the hulk drop from under his feet in awild yaw.

  At the same instant the boy felt himself being drawn under water as ifin the grasp of a giant hand that he was powerless to resist. Then hissenses left him in a rocketing blaze of light and a roar like that of ahundred water-falls.

  When he came to, he was lying on the bottom boards of the boat. From abottle some stimulant was being administered to him. He sat up andstared about him wildly for a moment, and then saw that they were almostalongside the heaving hull of the tanker.

  But of the wreck there was no sign.

  “Went to Davy Jones like a plummet,” said Mr. Brown cheerfully, “andalmost took you along with her, my lad. We had a fine job hauling youaboard, I can tell you.”

  Now came the dangerous task of hauling up the boat of rescuers andsurvivors. But it was accomplished at last by dint of cool-headed workand seamanship. The two sailors were sent forward to get dry clothingand hot coffee, while the elderly man, who was Captain Ralph Dennis ofthe wrecked vessel, and his daughter Helen, were cared for in theofficers’ quarters aft.

  Feeling rather shaky and dripping like a water-rat, Jack hastened tomake a change of clothing. By the time this was accomplished, the _Ajax_was once more on her course. Hardly had he drawn on dry socks before theold bos’n was at the door.

  “The skipper wants to see you forward. I rather suspect there’s a stormbrewing for you, younker,” was his greeting.

  “I’ll be there right away,” said Jack, and having pulled on his boots,he hastened forward. As he went, his heart beat a little faster thanusual. What fault had he committed now, he wondered. Jack was a modestyouth, but he had suspected praise rather than censure for the part hehad taken in the rescue.

  The skipper was in the chart-house giving a few directions before heturned in, after an almost continuous twenty-four hours of duty.

  He greeted Jack with a frown.

  “Ready, who gave you orders to go away in that boat?” he demandedsternly.

  “No one, sir, but I thought——”

  “You had no business to think. This is not a man-of-war or a passengerboat, but if everyone on board did as they thought best, where woulddiscipline be?”

  Jack stood dumbly miserable. He had performed what he thought ameritorious act and this was his reward!

  “I did the best I could to help when one of the men hung back, sir,” hesaid.

  The captain’s face softened a bit, but his voice was still stern as hesaid:

  “Mr. Brown was in charge of the boat. He should not have let you go. Iblame him more than you. But remember another time that you must donothing without orders so long as you sail under me. That is all,—andReady.”

  “Sir?”

  “I understand you conducted yourself according to the best traditions ofAmerican seamanship. I was glad to hear that. Now get along with you andtry to relay a message to our owners, telling them of the rescue. Ifthere is another vessel within our range, inform me, as I wish totransfer the shipwrecked men if possible. The craft was bound fromPortland, Maine, to the West Indies with lumber, and there is no sensein taking the rescued company all the way across the Atlantic.”

  Jack saluted and hastened off on his task. He felt considerably lighterof heart when he left the chart-room than when he had entered it. Therehad been a gleam of real human sympathy in the captain’s eye. That manof iron actually had a heart after all, and Jack had read, under hisgruff manner, a kindly interest in his welfare and esteem for his act insaving the two seamen.

  “I’m glad I did disobey orders, anyway,” he said to himself; “if it didnothing else, it has shown the skipper to me in another light than thatof a cruel task-master and slave-driver.”

  That night Jack succeeded in relaying, through the _Arizonian_, of theRed B Line, a message to the ship’s owners, telling of what had beendone. He also discovered that by noon of the next day they would pass onthe Atlantic track,—which is as definitely marked as a well-beatenroad,—the _Trojan_, of the Atlas Line of freighters. He madearrangements with the captain of that craft to transfer the castaways ofthe _Ajax_. This done, he informed the second officer, for the tiredcaptain was taking a well-deserved rest, and then turned in himself.

  Next morning the gale had blown itself out and the _Ajax_ was pushingahead at top speed to make up for lost time. Black smoke crowding out ofher funnel showed that coal was not being spared in the furnace room.Everyone appeared to be in good spirits, and the late autumn sun shonedown on a sparkling, dancing sea. It seemed impossible to believe thatonly twelve hours before that same ocean had claimed its toll of humanlives and property.

  Not long before eight bells, the look-out forward reported smoke on thehorizon. Jack, who had been in communication with the craft all themorning, knew that the vapor must herald the approach of the _Trojan_.He sent word forward to the captain by a passing steward, and thecastaways were told to prepare for a transfer to the other ship. Beforethe two crafts came alongside, Captain Dennis had made his way to Jack’swireless room.

  He looked forlorn and miserable, as well he might, for he had lost afine ship in which he owned an interest.

  “How is your daughter coming along?” asked Jack, deeming it best not todwell on the stricken mariner’s misfortunes.

  “Fairly well. We were two days in that gale. It’s a wonder any of uslived. But I want to thank you all from the bottom of my heart. That wasa fine bit of work, and I can’t begin to express my gratitude.”

  “We were glad to have happened along in time,” said Jack; but at thismoment the conversation was interrupted by the appearance of thecaptain’s daughter. Jack saw with surprise that the bedraggled,white-faced maiden of the day before had, by some magic peculiar towomankind, transformed herself into a remarkably pretty girl of abouthis own age. She thanked him in a gentle way for his part in the work ofrescue, and Jack found himself stammering and blushing like aschool-boy.

  “The _Trojan_ is almost up to us now,” he said, “and it will be time forus to say good-bye. But I—I wish I could hear some time how you getalong after you get ashore.”

  “We live in New York,” said the captain, coming out of a sad reverie,“or we did. We’ll have to find new quarters now. But this address willalways find me
.”

  “And here is mine,” said Jack, writing hastily on a bit of messagepaper. The captain glanced at it and then started.

  “Are you any relative of Captain Amos Ready?” he demanded eagerly.

  “I’m his son,” said Jack. “I live with my Uncle Toby and——”

  But Captain Dennis was wringing his hand as if he would shake it off.

  “This is a great day for me, boy, even if my poor old ship does lie atthe bottom of the Atlantic and Helen and I will have to start life allover again. Why, Captain Ready and I sailed together many a year, but Ilost track of him and he of me. Where is he now?”

  Jack sadly told him of his father’s death. Then there was only time forquick farewells and hand-shakings, for an officer came hurrying up tosay that the boat was ready to transport the castaways to the _Trojan_.The two big freighters lay idly on the ocean, bowing and nodding at eachother, while the transfer was made. Then the boat returned and washauled up and the vessels began to move off in opposite directions.

  Jack stood at the rail gazing after the _Trojan_. He waved franticallyas the freighter got under way, and thought he caught a glimpse of awhite handkerchief being wafted in return. He felt a hand on hisshoulder. It was Raynor. There was an amused smile on the youngengineer’s face.

  “Pretty girl that, eh, Ready? Pity she couldn’t have made the trip withus.”

  “Oh, you _shut up_!” exclaimed Jack, crimsoning and aiming a blow at hisfriend’s head.

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