CHAPTER II.
WAR IS DECLARED!
“Vell, Yack Retty, you yust like to hang aroundt undt see me vurk, hein?”
Hans Poffer, the yellow-haired, red-cheeked wireless operator of the Kronprinzessin Emilie asked the question, on the afternoon of the third day out. Jack had discovered in young Poffer an acquaintance he had made in Antwerp when he was on board the Ajax, and had renewed the friendship, to Poffer’s great delight, for the German wireless man had had trouble with his instruments the first day out which Jack had adjusted for him.
Since that time Jack, to Bill Raynor’s amusement, had spent most of his time in the wireless room enjoying, as Poffer put it, “watching me work.” But there was another reason beside his deep-seated interest in everything appertaining to his profession that made Jack haunt the Kronprinzessin’s wireless coop. De Garros, with whom he had had several conversations since their meeting on board, had repeatedly told him to be on the lookout for something “that would before long come over the wires.” Once, in discussing the boys’ plans for amusing themselves in Europe, the aviator had said meaningly, “if you ever get there.” But what he meant by these words he had steadfastly refused to explain, telling Jack that he would find out in good time.
“Me, if I gedt idt a holliday,” said Poffer, after greeting Jack a day later, “I go by as far avay from der vireless as I couldt gedt idt. I gedt sick undt tired hearing idt all day ‘tick-tick’ undt sending idt all day der same ‘tick-tick’ alretty. Donner! I’m hungry again. Holdt idt mein key a minute vile I gedt idt mineself a bite.”
The stout German slipped his wireless “ears” from his head and extended them to Jack, who, good-naturedly, took them. Then he made off for his cabin where he kept constantly a stock of provisions to satisfy his appetite between meals.
“Well, I’m a fine chump,” smiled Jack, as he slipped into Hans’ vacant chair. “No wonder Bill says I’m crazy. Off for a holiday and the first thing I know I find myself back on the job. Hullo, here’s a message coming. K. P. E., that’s our call. Funny sort of sending, too. Doesn’t sound like a commercial operator.”
Jack crackled out a reply.
“This is the Kronprinzessin Emilie,” he flashed back; “what do you want?”