CHAPTER I: ON THE OCEAN TRAIL.
The big, high-sided Cambodian, in ballast, that is, carrying no cargo, and outward bound from New York for Rotterdam, was shouldering through the green seas that came racing to meet her. The Cambodian was a brand new freighter of the big shipping combine controlled by Jacob Jukes, and as just then no better berth had been offered, Jack Ready found himself occupying her wireless room getting the newly installed radio apparatus in shape and tuned up for effective service.
As he worked over a refractory detector Jack, although normally of a cheerful disposition, felt a strong inclination to grumble at his present berth. He had been hoping for a chance at the wireless operator job on board the Empire State, the newest and greatest of the Jukes trans-Atlantic liners. But at the last moment he had been passed over and another operator appointed on the ground of seniority.
But Jack’s gloomy mood did not last long. As usual, the stimulus of work soon caused the clouds to dissolve, and by the time he had the detector adjusted, he was humming cheerfully. As he looked up from his completed job, a ruddy-faced, cheery-looking lad about two years older than Jack, who was eighteen, stuck his head in at the door of the wireless-room which, besides the apparatus, contained Jack’s bunk, a picture of the boy’s dead mother hanging at its head, and the desk at which he made out his reports.
“Hello there,� hailed Jack, as Billy Raynor appeared, “going off watch?�
“Well, don’t I look it, with this fine old coat of grime on my hide?� laughed Jack’s chum, now promoted to the post of second engineer on the new freighter.
“Thought when you got to be second you were just going to loll around with your hands in your pockets and give orders,� commented Jack.
“Um, so did I,� rejoined Raynor with a rather wry grin, “but, as you see, it didn’t just work out that way. By-the-way, I thought you were going to be the dandy, brass-buttoned wireless hero on a passenger packet this trip.�
It was Jack’s turn to give a rueful smile and he rejoined, “So did I.�
“Old Jukes was mighty nice about it though,� he explained. “I’m getting the same pay as I would on a liner and then, too, that check for that South American business came in mighty handy, so that, financially, I’m not kicking. But I do want to get ahead in my work.�
“Well, old Jukes ought to shove you right along,â€� declared Raynor, coming in and planting his overalled form in a chair by the desk. “You’ve sure done a lot for him, starting in by saving his daughter, and——â€�
“Say, shut up, will you!� sputtered Jack, turning red. “I don’t want any favoritism for anything I may or may not have done. That isn’t it. I just want to get right ahead in the wireless game.�
“And so you are, so far as I can see,� replied Raynor. “Incidentally, how’s the portable set coming along?�
He referred to Jack’s pet hobby, an invention over which he had worked during all his spare time, afloat and ashore, for months. It was a portable wireless set in which weight and complexity had been cut to the bone. Jack had managed to reduce the weight by degrees till at last he had produced what he believed would prove a practicable device for use in the field, which weighed a trifle under fifty pounds, and could be carried over the operator’s shoulder in a satchel.
In reply to young Raynor’s question, Jack opened a closet and produced a set of instruments of exquisite finish. Attached to them was a neat coil of copper wire and, strapped to the base that supported the whole, was a flat package of cloth and bamboo sticks.
“What’s that jigger underneath?� asked Raynor, referring to the latter bit of apparatus.
“That’s a box kite,� explained Jack.
“A box kite? What in the world do you want with that?�
“Well, you can’t send out or receive messages without aërials, can you?� parried Jack.
“No, but you could hitch your aërial wires to a tree or——â€�
“All right, Mr. Smarty, but just suppose that you are in a country where there are no trees.�
“Oh, I see,� exclaimed Raynor, “in that case you’d do a little kite flying.�
“That’s the idea exactly,� responded Jack.
“Have you tested it yet?� inquired Raynor.
“Up to 150 miles. It works splendidly. I’m going to gear up my hand-generator higher so as to produce a stronger alternating current, however. Then I think I’ll get better results.�
Clang-g-g-g-g-g-g-g!
A gong above Jack’s head sounded clamorously. This gong was another of the boy’s inventions. By means of a silicon detector ingeniously connected, a wireless wave striking the antenna of the Cambodian’s apparatus instantly sounded the gong. In this way Jack had done with a lot of tiresome waiting for calls with his receivers clamped to his head.
“Something doing?� asked Raynor, as Jack sprang from the chair he had been sitting on and seated himself in front of the wireless key.
“I guess it’s nothing much,� was the reply, “Siasconset maybe, or Race.�
But a moment later the expression of the young operator’s face grew concentrated. His hand reached out for a pencil and he began to scribble on his transcription pad the words that came pulsing against his ears like waves out of a vast sea of space.
“Steamer Athenia (Br.) reports,â€�—thus Jack wrote—“Along parallel of 45.06 saw ice as follows:—Grindstone, one mile of ice inshore. Scatari, close-packed ice inshore. Cape Ray, loose strings distant. Money Point, heavy close-packed ice inshore. Cape Race, several small strings loose ice drifting S. W.â€�
Raynor had been peering oyer Jack’s shoulder as the boy wrote. When he ceased, the young engineer was full of eager questions. Jack flashed out an answer to the Athenia and then “grounded� his instrument.
“Well, that’s to be expected in April,� was his comment. “I guess we’ll get a lot more of such reports before long.�
“Think we’ll run into any bergs?� asked Raynor rather anxiously.
“Don’t get nervous,â€� laughed Jack, “the iceberg patrol is on the lookout for those. I’m surprised they haven’t ‘tapped-in’ yet with some information. That’s the service for you, old man, the iceberg patrol. Think of the lives you have a chance to save and—and—but I’ve got to be off with this message to the old man.â€�
Jack hurried from the cabin, and forwarded his message to Captain Briggs on the bridge. Raynor followed with more deliberation and made for his own cabin and soap and water. As he removed the grime of the engine-room, he mused on the subject of icebergs. Not many weeks before a big liner had blundered at night into a huge floating continent of ice and had sunk, with a terrible toll of lives and suffering.
“If a big old liner like that couldn’t stand one wallop from an iceberg what chance would the Cambodian stand?� he wondered. “Still, as Jack said, since the accident they’ve had a regular iceberg patrol to send out warnings by wireless of any bergs that happen to be in the vicinity. I wouldn’t mind seeing a berg though, if it wasn’t at too close range. Wonder if I ever will?�
Had the young engineer possessed the gift of second sight, he would have been able to foresee that in the immediate future he was destined to come into closer contact with icebergs than he would have dreamed possible, and also that the entire current of his life was to be changed by a series of unlooked for and astonishing happenings.