CHAPTER XXXVI.
LOOKING FOR THE BURNING YACHT.
“Mr. Jukes’ yacht!” repeated the young wireless lad. “And his son is on board, too!”
“What, you know him?”
“Yes, I met him when I was in the hospital after those firemen, or rather the lamp-post, gave me that crack on the head.”
“Great Scott! It’s a case of have to go now whether we want to or not,” exclaimed the captain. “Of course,” he added, “we would have gone anyhow, but still, under the present conditions, if another steamer had been handy, I’d have left the job to them. But Mr. Jukes’ yacht, that’s another pair of shoes!”
“Clang-g-g-g-g-g-g!”
The wireless alarm “rang in” with its sharp, insistent note. Jack bent again to his instruments. In a trice he had turned into a business-like young operator of the wireless waves.
“Maybe that’s some more from them,” exclaimed the captain, as Jack picked up his pencil.
“Hurry!” was what Jack wrote. “Owner states he will give a million to anyone who will come to his help. Good-bye. I’ve got to make a getaway.”