The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Atlantic Page 2

  Having hung up his garments carefully, so that they would dry as freefrom wrinkles as possible, Jack left the cabin and made for his uncle’ssanctum in the stern.

  “Well, Jack, my hearty, what luck?” inquired the old man as the boyentered.

  Jack shook his head.

  “The same old story, Uncle Toby. What are you busy at?”

  “An order for the ‘Golden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man andBeast’ for Cap’n Styles of the _Sea Witch_,” rejoined his uncle in hisdeep voice, hoarse from many years of shouting orders above gales andstorms. “If you really want to go to sea, Jack, I’ll get you a berthwith Cap’n Styles. The _Sea Witch_ is a fine old Yankee ship; not one ofyour smoke-eating tea-kettles.”

  “But she has no wireless?” questioned Jack, gazing about him at thecompartment, which was stocked with the tools of the captain’s trade:herbs in bundles, bottles, pestles and mortars and so forth. A strongaromatic odor filled the air, and the captain hummed cheerily as hepoured a yellow, evil-smelling liquid from a big retort into half adozen bottles, destined to cure the ills of Captain Styles.

  “Wireless! Of course not, my hearty. What does a fine sailing ship wantwith a wireless? Take my word for it, Jack, wireless is only anewfangled idee, and it won’t last. Give a sailor sea-room and a goodship and all that fol-de-rol is only in his way.”

  “And yet I saw the news of another rescue at sea by means of thewireless when I was looking at a newspaper bulletin-board to-day,”rejoined the lad. “The crew of a burning tramp steamer was rescued by aliner that had been summoned to their aid by the apparatus. If it hadn’tbeen for wireless, that ship might have burned up with all hands, and noone ever have known her fate.”

  His uncle grunted in the manner of one unconvinced.

  “Well, I ain’t saying that wireless mayn’t be all right for one of themfloating wash-boilers, but for Yankee sailors, good rigging and canvasand a stout, sweet hull is good enough to go to sea with.”

  As he went on with his work, he began rumbling in a gruff, throaty bass:

  “Come, all you young fellers what foller the sea! Yo ho, blow the man down; And pay good attention and listen to me, Oh, give me some time to blow the man down.”

  “That’s the music, Jack,” said he. “I wish you’d go inter sails insteadof steam, and follow the examples of your dad and your uncle, yes, andof your granddaddy, Noah Ready, afore ’em.”

  Jack made no rejoinder, but set about straightening up the litter in theplace. The contention between them was an old one, and always ended inthe same way. His uncle knew many seafaring men of the old school whowould gladly have given Jack a berth on their craft. But they were allin command of “wind-jammers,” and the boy’s heart was set on thewireless room of a liner, or at any rate a job on some wireless-equippedvessel.

  Meantime the captain went on compounding and mixing and pouring,rumbling away at his old sea songs. He was an odd-looking character, asodd in his way as his chosen place of residence.

  Years of service on the salt-water had tanned his wrinkled skin almostto a mahogany color. Under his chin was a fringe of white whiskers, andhis round head—covered with a bristly white thatch—was set low between apair of gigantic shoulders. He was dressed in a fantastic miscellany ofwater-side slops which flapped where they should have been tight, andwrinkled where they should have been loose. Add to this an expression ofwhimsical kindness, a wooden leg and a wide, rough scar,—the memento ofa battle with savages in the South Seas,—and you have a portrait ofCaptain Toby Ready.

  Presently the captain drew out a huge silver watch.

  “Two bells. Time to stand by for supper, lad,” he said. “That stuff’llhave to go to Cap’n Styles to-morrow. There’s plenty of time; he don’tsail for goin’ on a week yet. Slip your cable, like a good lad, and seta course for the bakery. We’re short of bread.”

  “And I’m short of the money to get it,” said Jack.

  The captain thrust a hairy paw into his pocket and drew out an immensepurse. He extracted a coin from it and handed it to the boy.

  “An’ how much, lad, is a penny saved?” he inquired, peering at Jack fromunder his bushy white brows.

  “A penny earned,” laughed Jack.

  “Co’-rect,” chuckled the captain, grinning at Jack’s quick reply to thealmost invariable formula, “an’ if Captain Toby Ready had thought o’that when he was young, he wouldn’t be here on the craft _Wenus_ makingmedicines fer sea-cap’ns with a tummy ache.

  “I’ve got an apple pie in the oven, Jack,” said he, as the boy left the“drug-store,” as he and his uncle called it, “so cut along and hurryback.”

  “Aye, aye, sir!” cried the boy, bounding up the cabin stairs withalacrity.

  Apple pies were not common on board the _Venus_, nor was Jack too old toappreciate his uncle’s announcement.

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  CHAPTER IV.

  THE REJECTED REWARD.

  When Jack returned, he was surprised to hear voices in the cabin. Hisuncle had a habit of talking to himself, but there was another voicemingling with the old sailor’s deep, rumbling tones.

  Wondering greatly who the visitor could be, for somehow the voicesounded different from the bellowings of the old sea cronies who visitedthe _Venus_ either on business or socially, Jack descended the cabinstairs.

  The swinging lamp was lighted and shone down on his uncle and anotherman, seated on opposite sides of the table.

  “By the great main boom, the lad never told me a word of it!” his unclewas saying. “Dived overboard an’ saved your little gal, eh? Well, sir,Jack’s a chip of the old block!”

  The man who sat opposite the captain was a portly gentleman with a baldbrow, gold-rimmed glasses and close-cropped gray mustache. He spoke withcurt, sharp emphasis, as if his minutes were dollars.

  “Lucky that a watchman saw and recognized the boy as he sneaked away,”this individual replied. “If it had not been for that, I might neverhave found him. But I must see him. Where is he?”

  “Here he is, sir, to answer for himself,” said the captain, as he heardJack’s step on the stair.

  As the boy entered the cabin the ship-owner jumped to his feet. Hecrossed the place with a quick, rapid stride and grasped Jack’s freehand.

  “I’m proud to shake hands with a youngster like you,” he said in hisswift, incisive way, “yes, sir, proud. If it had not been for you, mydaughter might have drowned with those dolts all standing round doingnothing. Jove——”

  He mopped his forehead in an agitated way at the very thought of whatmight have happened.

  “That’s all right, sir,” said Jack, “I’m glad I was there when Ihappened to be. When I knew the little girl was all right, I came away.”

  The boy had recognized the shipping magnate from pictures of him that hehad seen in the papers. Had he not come around another way from thebakery, he would have been prepared for this august visitor by the sightof his limousine, lying at the head of the dock.

  “’Sarn it all, why didn’t you spin me the yarn?” sputtered the captainin an aggrieved tone.

  “Oh! there really wasn’t much to tell,” said Jack. “The little girl wasclinging to a pile and I went down and got her up. That’s all there wasto it. If I hadn’t done it, somebody else would.”

  “That is just the point,” roared Mr. Jukes, “somebody else wouldn’t.”

  He drew out a check-book and signed his name to a check. He shoved thisacross the table to Jack, who was standing by his uncle.

  “Fill that in for any amount you like, lad,” he said in his dictatorialway. “Make it a good, round sum. Jacob Jukes’ account can stand it.”

  Jack colored and hesitated.

  “Well, what’s the matter, boy?” sputtered the ship-owner, noting theboy’s hesitation. “That check won’t bite you. I know a whole lot of ladswho’d have grabbed at it be
fore it was out of my hand.”

  “I beg your pardon, sir,” rejoined Jack, “you’re very generous and—andall that. Maybe you’ll think me ungrateful, but I can’t take thatcheck.”

  “Wha—what! Can’t take my check! What’s the matter with the boy?”

  “Hev you slipped the cable of your senses, Jack?” hoarsely exclaimed hisuncle, in what was meant to be a whisper.

  “I don’t want money for just doing a little thing like that,” said theboy stubbornly.

  “You don’t mean it. Come, take that check at once. Don’t be a fool!”urged Mr. Jukes with a very red face. “Why can’t you do as I tell you!”

  The magnate’s tone was almost angry. He was not used to having hiscommands disobeyed, and he was commanding Jack to take the check. Butthe boy resolutely shook his head.

  “Why, confound it all, I can’t understand it. Make him take the check atonce, captain.”

  “Don’t see how I can, if he’s so sot and stubborn about it,” rejoinedthe captain. Then, turning to Jack, he made another appeal. “Why won’tyou take it, Jack?” he growled. “Shiver my timbers, what ails you?”

  “Nothing; but I can’t accept money from Mr. Jukes or anybody else, fordoing what I did,” said the boy quietly.

  Mr. Jukes, with a crimson face, gave up the battle. He reached acrossthe table, took the check and slowly tore it into fragments.

  “It is the first time in my experience that I ever encountered such asingular lad as this. Hang me if I don’t think there’s a screw loosesomewhere. But after what you did for me this afternoon, never hesitateto call on me if you need anything at any time. Here’s my card.”

  He rose, and with a comical mixture of astonishment and indignation onhis face, regarded Jack somewhat as he might have looked at some strangefreak in nature.

  “Thank you, sir,” said the boy, taking the bit of pasteboard, “I didn’tmean to offend you; but—but, well, I couldn’t take that check, that’sall.”

  “Well, well, we’ll say no more about it,” said the great man testily.“But remember, I’ll always stand your friend if I can.”

  He started to leave the cabin, when he suddenly brought up “allstanding,” as the captain would have said, with a sharp exclamation ofpain.

  “What is it, sir?” demanded that veteran with some concern. “Yourfigurehead looks like you had some sort of a pain.”

  “It is nothing. Just a sharp twinge of my old trouble, rheumatism,”explained the great man. “The damp air of the Basin may have brought iton.”

  “Anchor right where you are!” exclaimed the captain, and before Mr.Jukes could say another word, he had darted into the “drug-store” andwas back with a bottle full of a villainous-looking black liquid.

  “My rheumatiz’ and gout remedy,” he explained.

  “Yes, but I am under medical treatment. I——”

  “Keel-haul all your doctors. Throw their medicine overboard,” burst outthe captain. “Try a few applications of Cap’n Ready’s Rheumatiz and GoutSpecific. Cap’n Joe Trotter of the _Flying Scud_ cured himself with twobottles. Take it! Try it! Rub it in twice a day, night and morning, andin a week you’ll be as spry as a boy, as taut and sound as a cable.”

  “Well, well, I’ll try it,” said the magnate good-naturedly in reply toCaptain Toby’s outburst of eloquence; “how much is it?”

  “One dollar, guaranteed to work if used as directed, or your moneyback,” rattled on the captain, pocketing a bill which Mr. Jukes peeledoff a roll that made Captain Toby open his eyes.

  And so, burdened with a bottle of the “Rheumatiz and Gout Specific,” andwith the memory of the first person he had ever met who was not willingto accept his bounty, the shipping magnate stepped ashore from the_Venus_.

  “He’ll be dancing a hornpipe in a week,” prophesied Captain Toby; “theSpecific has never failed.”

  But if he could have seen Mr. Jukes carefully drop the bottle overboardas soon as he reached the shore end of the dock, his opinion of himwould have fallen considerably. As it was, the old seaman was loud inhis praise.

  “Think of him, the skipper of a big corporation and all that, wisitingus on the _Wenus_!” he exclaimed. “Why, Jack, that’ll be something totell about. The great Mr. Jukes! Maybe this’ll all lead to something! Ifthe Specific works like it did on Cap’n Joe Trotter, he may make me hisphysician in ordinary.”

  “Let’s hope it won’t work the same way on him that it did on Captain ZebHolliday,” said Jack with a smile.

  “Huh! That deck-swabbing lubber!” cried the captain, with intense scorn.“He drank it instead of rubbing it in, although the directions was wroteon the bottle plain as print. But, Jack, lad, why didn’t you take thatcheck? Consarn it all——”

  “It’s no good talking about it, uncle,” said the boy, cutting him short;“I couldn’t take it; that’s all there is to that.”

  “Confound you for a young jackass! Douse my topsails, but I’m proud ofyou, lad!” roared the captain, bringing down a mighty hand on Jack’sshoulders. “And now let’s pipe all hands to supper.”

  Two days later, Jack happened to pass the dock where the Titan linerlay. She was taking aboard her cargo from a pipe-line—crude, black oildestined for Antwerp. Because of the adventure in which he hadparticipated alongside her, Jack felt an interest in the ugly, powerfultanker. As he was looking at her, he noticed some men busy at the topsof her squat steel masts.

  All at once they began to haul something aloft. What it was, Jackrecognized the next moment. It was the antennæ of a wireless plant. Theywere installing a station on the ship, which bore the name “_Ajax_” onher round, whaleback stern.

  Jack’s heart gave a sudden leap. A great idea had come to him. Mr. Jukesowned the Titan Line. The ship-owner had said to him only two nightsbefore: “Remember, I’ll always stand your friend if I can. Neverhesitate to call on me if you need anything at any time.”

  And right then Jack needed something mighty badly. He needed the job ofwireless operator on board the _Ajax_.

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  CHAPTER V.

  THE WIRELESS BOY’S FIRST POSITION.

  The power of eight thousand horses was driving the big tanker _Ajax_through the Lower Bay, out past Sandy Hook, and on to the NorthAtlantic.

  As the big black steel craft felt the lift and heave of the oceanswells, she wallowed clumsily and threw the spray high above her bluntbow. Very different looked this “workman” of the seas from the spick andspan liner they passed, just after they had dropped the pilot.

  Grim, business-like, and built for “the job,” the _Ajax_ looked like asquare-jawed bulldog beside the yacht-like grayhound of the ocean, whosewhistled salute she returned with a toot of her own siren.

  Like all craft of her type, the _Ajax_ had hardly any freeboard. In thebow was a tall superstructure where the crew and the minor officerslived. Here, too, was the wheel-house and the navigating bridge. In theextreme stern was another superstructure, square in shape, whereas thebow-house was like a big cylinder pierced with port-holes.

  From the stern upper-works projected the big black funnel with the redtop, distinctive of the Titan liners, and in this stern structure, too,dwelt the captain, the superior officers and the first and secondengineers.

  From the stern superstructure and the chart-house to the crew’s quartersin the bow, there stretched a narrow bridge running the entire length ofthe craft. This was to enable the crews of the great floating tank tomove about on her, for on board a tank steamship there are no decks whenthere is any kind of a sea running. The steel plates that form the topof the tank are submerged, and nothing of the hull is visible but thetwo towering structures at the bow and stern, the bridge connectingthem, and the funnel and masts.

  But for all her homely outlines the _Ajax_ was a workman-like craft andfast for her build. In favorable weather she could make twelve knots andbetter, and her skipper
, Captain Braceworth, and his crew were proud ofthe ship.

  On the day of which we are speaking, however, there was one member ofthe ship’s company to whom the big tanker was as fine a craft as sailedthe Seven Seas. This was a young lad dressed in a neat uniform of blueserge, who sat in a small, steel-walled cabin in the aftersuperstructure. The lad was Jack Ready, sailing his first trip as anocean wireless boy. As he listened to and caught signals out of the mazeof messages with which the air was filled, his cheeks glowed and hiseyes shone. He had attained the first step of his ambition. Some day,perhaps, he would be an operator on such a fine craft as the liner theyhad just passed and with which he had exchanged wireless greetings.

  Jack had secured the berth of wireless man on the _Ajax_ with even lessdifficulty than he had thought he would encounter. Mr. Jukes, although abusy, brusque man, was really glad to be able to do something for thelad who had done so much for him, and as soon as Jack had proved hisability to handle a key he got the job.

  It had come about so quickly, that as he sat there before the newlyinstalled instruments,—it will be recalled that the _Ajax_ was makingher first trip as a wireless ship,—the boy had to kick himself slylyunder the operating table to make sure he was awake!

  “I’m the luckiest boy in the world,” said the young operator to himself,as gazing from the open door of the cabin, he watched the coast slip byand the rollers begin to take on the true Atlantic swell.