"Very well, then," rejoined Jack. "I'll see that you get first wordafter the captain."
Jarrold took a step forward and thrust his face close to the boy's.
"The captain must not know of it till I say so. That is the condition ofthe reward I'll give you for obeying my instructions. When you bring meword that the _Endymion_ is calling the _Tropic Queen_, I shall probablyhave some messages to send before the captain of this ship is arousedand blocks the wire with inquiries."
"What sort of messages?" asked Jack, his curiosity aroused to theutmost. He was now almost sure that his first impression that Jarroldwas playing some game far beyond the young operator's ken was correct.
Jarrold tapped him on the shoulder in a familiar way.
"Let's understand each other," he said. "I know you wireless men don'tget any too big money. Well, there's big coin for you to-night if you dowhat I say when the _Endymion_ calls. I want to talk to her beforeanyone else has a chance. As I said, I want to send her some messages."
"And as I said, what sort of messages?" said Jack, drawing away.
"Cipher messages," was the reply, as Jarrold glanced cautiously aroundover his shoulder.
The door behind them had opened and a stout, middle-aged man of militarybearing had emerged. He had a gray mustache and iron-gray hair, and worea loose tweed coat suitable for the night. Jack recognized him as aColonel Minturn, who had been pointed out to him as a celebrity the daythe ship sailed. Colonel Minturn, it was reported, was at the head ofthe military branch of the government attending to the fortifications ofthe Panama Canal. The colonel, with a firm stride, despite the heavypitching of the _Tropic Queen_, walked toward the bow, puffing at afragrant cigar.
When Jack turned again to look for Jarrold, he had gone.
CHAPTER IV
A PECULIAR COINCIDENCE
But the young wireless boy had no time right then to waste inspeculation over the man's strange conduct. It was his duty to relieveSam, who would not come on watch again till midnight.
As he mounted the steep ladder leading to the "Wireless Hutch," he couldfeel the ship leaping and rolling under his feet like a live thing.Every now and then a mighty sea would crash against the bow and shakethe stout steel fabric of the _Tropic Queen_ from stem to stern.
The wind, too, was shrieking and screaming through the rigging and upamong the aerials. Jack involuntarily glanced upward, although it wastoo dark to see the antennae swaying far aloft between the masts.
"I hope to goodness they hold," he caught himself thinking, and thenrecalled that, in the hurry of departure from New York, he had not had achance to go aloft and examine the insulation or the security of theirfastenings himself.
In the wireless room he found Sam with the "helmet" on his head. The boywas plainly making a struggle to stick it out bravely, but his face waspale.
"Anything come in?" asked Jack.
"Not a thing."
"Caught anything at all from any other ship?"
Sam's answer was to tug the helmet hastily from his head. He hurriedlyhanded it to Jack, and then bolted out of the place without a word.
"Poor old Sam," grinned Jack, as he sat down at the instruments andadjusted the helmet that Sam had just discarded; "he's got his, allright, and he'll get it worse before morning."
Sam came back after a while. He was deathly pale and threw himself downon his bunk in the inner room with a groan. He refused to let Jack sendfor a steward.
"Just leave me alone," he moaned. "Oh-h, I wish I'd stayed home inBrooklyn! Do you think I'm going to die, Jack?"
"Not this trip, son," laughed Jack. "Why, to-morrow you will feel like atwo-year-old."
"Yes, I will--not," sputtered the invalid. "Gracious, I wish the shipwould sink!"
After a while Sam sank into a sort of doze, and Jack, helmet on head andbook in hand, sat at the instruments, keeping his vigil through the longnight hours, while the storm shrieked and rioted about the ship.
The boy had been through too much rough weather on the _Ajax_ to paymuch attention to the storm. But as it increased in violence, itattracted even his attention. Every now and then a big sea would hit theship with a thundering buffet that sent the spray flying as high as theloftily perched wireless station.
The wind, too, was blowing as if it meant to blow the ship out of thewater. Every now and then there would come a lambent flash of lightning.
"It's a Hatteras hummer for sure," mused the boy.
The night wore on till the clock hands above the instruments pointed totwelve.
Above the howling and raging of the storm Jack could hear the big ship'sbell ring out the hour, and then, faint and indistinct, came the cry ofthe bow watch, "All's well." It was echoed boomingly from the bridge inthe deep voice of the officer who had the watch.
"Well, nothing doing on that _Endymion_ yet," pondered Jack.
He fell to musing on Jarrold's strange conduct. Why had the man suddenlyvanished when Colonel Minturn appeared? What was his object in thestrange proposal he had made to the young wireless man? What manner ofcraft was this _Endymion_, and how was it possible that she could livein such a sea and storm?
These, and a hundred other questions came crowding into his dozingbrain. They performed a sort of mental pin-wheel, revolving over andover again without the lad's arriving at any conclusion.
That some link existed between Jarrold and the _Endymion_ was, ofcourse, plain. But just why he should have vanished so quickly when thePanama official appeared, was not equally evident. Jack had a passengerlist in front of him, stuck in the frame designed for it.
He ran his eyes over it. Yes, there was the name:
Mr. James Jarrold, N. Y.--Stateroom 44. Miss Jessica Jarrold, N. Y.--Stateroom 56.
Suddenly Jack's roving glance caught the name of Colonel Minturn, U. S.A., stateroom 46. So the colonel's stateroom adjoined that of the manwho appeared to be so anxious to avoid him! Another thing that Jacknoted was that, although the ship was crowded and a stateroom for asingle passenger called for a substantial extra payment, both Mr.Jarrold and the army man had exclusive quarters. In the case of ColonelMinturn this was, of course, understandable, but Jarrold? Jack looked atthe latter's name again, and now he noticed something else that hadescaped him before.
Stateroom 44, the room occupied by Jarrold and adjoining ColonelMinturn's, had evidently been changed at the last moment, fororiginally, as a crossed-out entry showed, Jarrold had been givenstateroom 53. A pen line had been drawn through this entry by the purserevidently, when Jarrold had changed his room.
Jack happened to know that Colonel Minturn had come on board at the lastmoment, so, then, Jarrold had changed his stateroom only when he hadfound out definitely that Colonel Minturn's room was No. 46. There mustbe something more than a mere coincidence in this, thought Jack, but,puzzle as he would, he could not arrive at what it meant.
He was still trying to piece it all out when suddenly the door, which hehad closed to bar out the flying spray, was flung open.
A gust of wind and a flurry of spume entered, striking him in the facelike a cold plunge.
"Bother that catch," exclaimed Jack, swinging round; "I'll have to getthe carpenter to fix it to-morrow, I----"
But it was not a weakened catch that had given way. The door had beenopened by the hand of a man, who, enveloped in a raincoat and topped bya golf cap, now stood in the doorway.
The man was James Jarrold.
CHAPTER V
THE INTERRUPTED MESSAGE
Jack sprang to his feet, but the other held out a withholding hand.
"Stay right where you are, Mr. Ready," he said. "I couldn't sleep and Idecided to sit out your watch up here with you. You've no objection?"
"I'm sorry," said Jack, for after all Jarrold was a passenger and itwould not do to offend him if he could help it, "but it is against therules for passengers to linger about the wireless room."
"Well, I can write a message, then. You have no objection to that?"
&nbs
p; Jack was in a quandary. He knew perfectly well that Jarrold was therefor some purpose of his own, but what it was--except that its aim wassinister--he could not hazard a conjecture.
"Of course the office is always open for business," he rejoined, pushinga stack of sending blanks toward Jarrold.
"Of course," replied Jarrold, sinking into a chair beside the youngoperator. "By the way, nothing from the _Endymion_ yet?"
"That is the business of the line so far, sir," replied Jack. "If it isanything of general interest, you will find the notice posted on thebulletin board at the head of the saloon stairs in the morning."
Jarrold made no reply to this, but sat absent-mindedly tapping hisgleaming white teeth with a gold-cased pencil as if considering what heshould write on the blank paper before him. He appeared to be in nohurry to begin, but fumbling for his cigar case, produced a big blackweed and leisurely lighted it, puffing out the heavy smoke with anabstracted air.
"Sorry, sir," struck in Jack sharply, "but you can't smoke in here,sir."
"Why not?"
"It is against the rules."
"Where do you see such a rule? Reckon you made it, eh? Too much of amolly-coddle to smoke, hey?"
The man's tone was aggressive, offensive. The subtle objection to himthat Jack had felt when they first met was growing with every minute.But he kept his temper. It was with an effort, however.
"There are the rules on the wall," he said.
"Humph," said Jarrold, with a disgusted grunt. "In that case I'll throwmy cigar away. But one always helps me to think."
"Personally, I've always heard that tobacco dulls the brain," retortedJack, "but never having tried it, and not wanting to, I don't know howtrue it is."
Jarrold made no reply to this, but a contemptuous snort. He unfolded hisbig, loose-knit frame from the chair and went toward the door. He flungthe cigar into the night. As he did so, there was a blinding flash oflightning. The rain was coming in torrents now, but the wind and seawere dying down.
The man came back to his chair and again appeared to be considering themessage he should send out.
"I have my doubts about getting a message through to-night at all,"hinted Jack. "The rain doesn't always interfere with the Hertzian wavesbut sometimes it does. Maybe you would better wait till morning."
"I'll send it when I choose," was the growled reply.
At that instant Jack's hand suddenly shot out across the desk in frontof him and turned the switch that sent the current into the detectors.Faintly, out of the storm, some whispered dots and dashes had breathedagainst his ear-drums. Somebody was trying to send a radio.
Jarrold's lounging figure stiffened up quickly. He had seen Jack'ssudden motion and guessed its meaning. He leaned forward eagerly whilethe young operator tuned his instruments till the message beat morestrongly on his ears.
Through the storm the message came raggedly but it was intelligible.
"_Tropic Queen! Tropic Queen! Tropic Queen!_"
"Yes! Yes! Yes!" flung back the boy at the liner's key. "Who is that?"
"Are you the _Tropic Queen_?"
The sending of the call across the storm was uncertain and hesitating;not the work of a competent operator, but still understandable.
"Yes, this is the _Tropic Queen_."
The answer that came made Jack thrill up and down his spine.
"This is the _Endymion_!"
Then came a pause that vibrated. Jack pounded his key furiously. Thesending on the other craft was bad, and the waves that were beatingagainst the aerials of the _Tropic Queen_ were weak. Although rain doesnot necessarily hamper the power of the Hertzian billows, and all thingsbeing equal the transmission of messages is clearer at night, yetcertain combinations may result in poor service.
The spark writhed and squealed and glared with a lambent blue flame asit leaped like a serpent of fire between the points.
But even above its loud, insistent voice calling into the tempest-riddennight could be heard the deep, quick breathing of Jarrold as he leanedforward to catch every move of the young operator's fingers.
"This is the _Endymion_," came again.
"Yes! Yes!" flashed back Jack.
"Have you a passenger named Jarrold on board?"
Jack's heart and pulses gave a bound. Jarrold was leaning forward tillhis bristling chin almost touched Jack's cheek. The man's hand stoleback toward his hip pocket and stayed there.
"Yes, what do you want with him?"
"We--have--a--message--for him," came the halting reply.
Jack's fingers were on the key to reply when the quick, harsh voice ofJarrold came in his ear.
"That's the _Endymion_. No monkey business now. Send what I tell you.I----"
There was a sudden blinding flash from the instruments and a blaze ofblue, hissing fire filled the wireless room.
Jarrold and the young wireless man staggered back, their hands flungacross their faces to shield their eyes from the scorching glare. It wasall over in an instant--just one flash and that upheaval of light.
"The aerials have gone!" cried Jack.
He darted from the wireless room, leaving Jarrold alone, a look offrustrated purpose in his eyes.
CHAPTER VI
A DARING FEAT
Out along the wet and slippery decks, spray-dashed and awash, rushed theboy. He was headed for the bridge. He found the first officer, Mr.Metcalf, on duty.
The officer was shrouded in gleaming oil-skins and sou'wester. Sprayglistened on his cheeks and big mustache as the dim light from thebinnacle revealed his features. Ahead of them Jack could make out dimlythe big, plunging forepart of the ship as it rushed up a water mountainwith glowing phosphorescent head, and then with a swirling roar wentsliding down the other side.
"Well, Ready, what's the trouble?" boomed out Mr. Metcalfgood-naturedly. "You seem excited."
"Yes, sir. I've just had a message."
The officer was alert in a moment.
"A vessel in distress?"
"No, sir. Although----"
"Well, well, be quick. On a night like this any call may be urgent."
"This was from a yacht. The _Endymion_, she said her name was."
"And she's in trouble?"
Mr. Metcalf was one of those men who leap to instant conclusions.Already he was considering the best method of proceeding to thedistressed--as he thought--ship's assistance.
"No, in no trouble, sir. She had a message for a passenger, but in themiddle of it something happened to our aerials."
"They've parted?"
"I don't know, sir. Anyhow, I'm going aloft to see. I came to report toyou."
"Nonsense, Ready, you can't go aloft to-night. I'll send a man."
"Pardon me, Mr. Metcalf," broke in Jack. "I don't want to bedisrespectful, but there's not a man on this ship who could repair thoseaerials but myself."
"But you are not used to going aloft," protested Mr. Metcalf.
"I've been up on the _Ajax's_ masts in worse weather than this to fixanything that was wrong," he said. "I'll be all right. And besides, Imust go. It's my duty to do so."
"Very well, then, but for heaven's sake be careful. You've no idea whatthe trouble is?"
"No, sir, but I'm inclined to think it is the insulation that has wornand caused a short circuit somewhere. That could easily happen on anight like this."
"Well, be off with you, Ready," said the officer, not withoutreluctance. "Good luck."
Jack descended from the bridge deck to the main deck. The ship wasplunging and jumping like a race-horse. He could catch the wild movementof the foremast light as it swung in crazy arcs against the dark sky.
"Not a very nice night to go aloft," thought the boy, with a shrug, "butit must be done."
Temporarily he had forgotten all about Jarrold. All that lay in front ofhim was his duty, the stern necessity of repairing the aerials uponwhich it was possible human lives might depend. In the event of accidentto the _Tropic Queen_, the existence of all on board might hang on th
egood condition of those slender strands of copper wire which aloneconnected the ship with other craft and dry land.
The wind screamed across the exposed main deck with locomotive-likevelocity. Big waves, nosed aside by the bow, viciously took theirrevenge by sweeping like waterfalls across the ship's stem. Jack wasdrenched through before he had fought his way to the weather shrouds, bywhich slender ladder he had to climb to the top of the swaying steelfore-mast, fully fifty feet above the lurching decks.
He had not put on oil skins and his blue serge uniform, soaked through,clung to his body like an athlete's tights. But he was not thinking ofthis as he grabbed the lower end of the shrouds and prepared to mountaloft. A big sea swept across the exposed foredeck, almost beating thebreath out of his body. But he clung with the desperation of despair tothe steel rigging, and the next moment, taking advantage of a momentarylull, he began to mount.
Long before he reached the cross-trees, his hands were cut and sore andevery muscle in his body taut as fiddle strings. About him the confusionand the noise of the storm shrieked and tore like Bedlam let loose.
But stubbornly the figure of the young wireless boy crept upward,flattened out by the wind at times against the ratlines to which heclung, and again, taking every fighting chance he could seize, battlinghis way up slowly once more. The cross-trees gained, Jack paused to drawbreath. He looked downward. He could see, amid the inferno of ragingwaters, the dim outline of the hull. From that height it looked like adarning needle. As the mast swung, it appeared that with every dizzylist of the narrow body of the ship beneath, she must overturn.
The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Lost Liner Page 2