



Produced by Roger Frank and the Online Distributed
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[Illustration: There was a sudden blinding flash from the instruments
and a blaze of blue, hissing fire filled the room.]




THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS AND THE LOST LINER

BY

CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON

AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS' SERIES," "THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS' SERIES,"
"THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC," ETC.

WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES L. WRENN

NEW YORK

HURST & COMPANY

PUBLISHERS




Copyright, 1914

BY HURST & COMPANY




CONTENTS

    CHAPTER I--AT SEA ONCE MORE
    CHAPTER II--WIRELESS CONVERSATIONS
    CHAPTER III--A STRANGE REQUEST
    CHAPTER IV--A PECULIAR COINCIDENCE
    CHAPTER V--THE INTERRUPTED MESSAGE
    CHAPTER VI--A DARING FEAT
    CHAPTER VII--QUARTERMASTER SCHULTZ VOLUNTEERS
    CHAPTER VIII--SAFE ONCE MORE
    CHAPTER IX--THE MIDNIGHT INTRUDER
    CHAPTER X--A MESSAGE IN SECRET CODE
    CHAPTER XI--WHAT SAM HEARD
    CHAPTER XII--A SUDDEN ALARM
    CHAPTER XIII--A DOSE OF SLEEPING POWDER
    CHAPTER XIV--THE WINKING EYE
    CHAPTER XV--SECRET SIGNALS AT DAWN
    CHAPTER XVI--S. O. S.
    CHAPTER XVII--A DERELICT OF THE SKIES
    CHAPTER XVIII--A LEAP FOR A LIFE
    CHAPTER XIX--A CALL IN THE NIGHT
    CHAPTER XX--TO THE RESCUE
    CHAPTER XXI--A TALE OF THE SEA
    CHAPTER XXII--A DECOY MESSAGE
    CHAPTER XXIII--FALSE FRIENDSHIP
    CHAPTER XXIV--KIDNAPPED
    CHAPTER XXV--SAM, A TRUE FRIEND
    CHAPTER XXVI--A WICKED PLAN
    CHAPTER XXVII--IN THE LION'S MOUTH
    CHAPTER XXVIII--A CLIMB FOR LIFE
    CHAPTER XXIX--FREEDOM ONCE MORE
    CHAPTER XXX--IN SEARCH FOR A CLEW
    CHAPTER XXXI--LOOK FOR A WHITE HORSE
    CHAPTER XXXII--A BOLD ROBBERY
    CHAPTER XXXIII--JARROLD AGAIN
    CHAPTER XXXIV--BAD NEWS FOR THE COLONEL
    CHAPTER XXXV--JARROLD GETS FRANTIC
    CHAPTER XXXVI--ADRIFT
    CHAPTER XXXVII--THE IRONY OF FATE
    CHAPTER XXXVIII--A BOLT FROM THE BLUE
    CHAPTER XXXIX--JACK'S RADIO
    CHAPTER XL--THE ANSWER TO THE WIRELESS CALL




CHAPTER I

AT SEA ONCE MORE


The West Indian liner, _Tropic Queen_, one of the great vessels owned by
the big shipping combine at whose head was Jacob Jukes, the New York
millionaire, was plunging southward through a rolling green sea about
two hundred miles to the east of Hatteras. It was evening and the bugle
had just sounded for dinner.

The decks were, therefore, deserted; the long rows of lounging chairs
were vacant, while the passengers, many of them tourists on pleasure
bent, were below in the dining saloon appeasing the keen appetites
engendered by the brisk wind that was blowing off shore.

In a small steel structure perched high on the boat deck, between the
two funnels of the _Tropic Queen_, sat a bright-faced lad reading
intently a text-book on Wireless Telegraphy. Although not much more than
a schoolboy, he was assistant wireless man of the _Queen_. His name was
Sam Smalley, and he had obtained his position on the ship--the crack
vessel of the West Indies and Panama line--through his chum, Jack Ready,
head operator of the craft.

To readers of the first volume of this series, "The Ocean Wireless Boys
on the Atlantic," Jack Ready needs no introduction.

Here he comes into the wireless room where his assistant sits reading in
front of the gleaming instruments and great coherers. Jack has been off
watch, lying down and taking a nap in the small sleeping cabin that,
equipped with two berths, opens off the wireless room proper, thus
dividing the steel structure into two parts.

"Hello, chief," said Sam Smalley, with a laugh, as Jack appeared; "glad
you're going to give me a chance to get to dinner at last. I'm so hungry
I could eat a coherer."

"Skip along then," grinned Jack; "but it's nothing unusual for you to be
hungry. I'll hold down the job till you get through, but leave something
for me."

"I'll try to," chuckled Sam, as he hurried down the steep flight of
steps leading from the wireless station up on the boat deck to the main
saloon.

"Well, this is certainly a different berth from the one I had on the old
_Ajax_," mused Jack, as he looked about him at the well-equipped
wireless room; "still, somehow, I like to look back at those days. But
yet this is a long step ahead for me. Chief wireless operator of the
_Tropic Queen_! Lucky for me that the uncle of the fellow who held down
the job before me left him all that money. Otherwise I might have been
booked for another cruise on the _Ajax_, although Mr. Jukes promised to
give me as rapid promotion as he could."

Readers of the first volume, dealing with Jack Ready and his friends,
will recall how he lived in a queer, floating home with his uncle, Cap'n
Toby. They will also recollect that Jack, who had studied wireless day
and night, was coming home late one afternoon, despondent from a
fruitless hunt for a job, when he was enabled to save the little
daughter of Mr. Jukes from drowning. The millionaire's gratitude was
deep, and Jack could have had anything he wanted from him.

All he asked, though, was a chance to demonstrate his ability as a
wireless man on the _Ajax_, a big oil tanker which had just been
equipped with such an outfit. He got the job, and then followed many
stirring adventures. He took part in a great rescue at sea, and was able
to frustrate the schemes of some tobacco smugglers who formed part of
the crew of the "tanker." This task, however, exposed him to grave
danger and almost resulted in his death.

At sea once more, after the smugglers had been apprehended and locked
up, Jack's keen wireless sense enabled him to solve a problem in
surgery. The _Ajax_ carried no doctor, and when one of the men in the
fireroom was injured, and it appeared that a limb would have to be
amputated, a serious question confronted the captain, who, like most of
his class, possessed a little knowledge of surgery, but not enough to
perform an operation that required so much skill.

The injured man was a chum of Jack's, and he did not want to see him
lose a limb if it could be helped, or have his life imperiled by
unskillful methods. Yet what was he to do? Finally an idea struck him.
He knew that the big passenger liners all carried doctors. He raised one
by means of the wireless and explained the case. The injured man was
carried into the wireless cabin and laid close to the table. Then, while
the liner's doctor flung instructions through space, Jack translated
them to the captain. The result was that the man was soon out of danger,
but Jack kept in touch with doctors of other liners till everything was
all right beyond the shadow of a doubt.

This feat gained him no little commendation from his captain and the
owners. Next he was instrumental in saving Mr. Jukes' yacht which was on
fire at sea. In the panic Mr. Jukes' son Tom, who was the apple of the
ship-owning millionaire's eye, was lost. By means of wireless, Jack
located him and reunited father and son.

His promotion was the result, when the regular operator of the _Tropic
Queen_ went west to receive a big legacy left him. As the services of
the retiring operator's assistant had been unsatisfactory, Jack was
asked to find a successor to him. He selected an old school chum, Sam
Smalley, who had owned and operated a small station in Brooklyn and was
an expert in theory and practice. The ship had now been at sea two days,
and Sam had shown that he was quite capable of the duties of his new
job.

An old quartermaster passed the door of the wireless cabin. He poked his
head in.

"Goot efenings, Yack," he said, with easy familiarity. "How iss der
birdt cage vurking?"

This was Quartermaster Schultz's term for the tenuous aerials swung far
aloft to catch wide-flung, whispered space messages and relay them to
the operator's listening ears.

"The bird cage is all right," laughed Jack. "Dandy weather, eh?"

The old man, weather-beaten and bronzed by the storms and burning suns
of the seven seas, shook his head.

"Idt is nice now, all righdt," he said, "but you ought to see der
glass."

"The barometer? What is the matter with it?"

"Py gollys, I dink der bottom drop oudt off idt. You may have vurk
aheadt of you to-night."

"You mean that we are in for a big storm?"

"I sure do dot same. Undt ven it comes idt be a lollerpaloozitz. Take my
vurd for dat. Hark!"

The old quartermaster held up a finger.

Far above him in the aerials could be heard a sound like the moaning
bass string of a violin as the wind swept among the copper wires.

"Dot's der langwitch of Davy Chones," declared Schultz. "Idt says, 'Look
oudt. Someding didding.' I'fe heardt idt pefore, undt I know."

The old man hurried off on his way forward, and Jack emitted a long
whistle.

"My, won't there be a lot of seasick passengers aboard to-night! The
company will save money on breakfast to-morrow."

Just then Sam came back from dinner and Jack was free to go below to his
meal. He was about to relinquish the instruments when there came a
sudden call.

  "To all ships within three hundred miles of Hatteras: Watch out for
  storm of hurricane violence.

  "Briggs, Operator Neptune Beach U. S. Wireless Service."




CHAPTER II

WIRELESS CONVERSATIONS


Sam was looking over Jack's shoulder as the young wireless chief of the
_Tropic Queen_ rapidly transcribed the message on a blank.

"Phew! Trouble on the way, eh?" he asked.

"Looks like it. But we need not worry, with a craft like this under our
feet."

But Sam looked apprehensive.

"What is the trouble? Not scared, are you?" asked Jack, who knew that,
excellent operator though he had shown himself to be, this was Sam's
first deep-sea voyage.

"N-no. Not that," hesitated Sam, "but seasickness, you know. And I ate
an awful big dinner."

"Well, don't bother about that now. Lots of fellows who have never been
to sea before don't get sick."

"I hope that will be my case," Sam replied, without much assurance in
his voice.

"Here, take this to the captain; hurry it along now," said Jack, handing
him the dispatch. "I guess he'll be interested. Wait a minute," he added
suddenly. "There's the _Tennyson_ of the Lamport & Holt line talking to
the _Dorothea_ of the United Fruit, and the battleship _Iowa_ is cutting
in. All talking weather."

It was true. From ship to ship, borne on soundless waves, the news was
being eagerly discussed.

"Big storm on the way," announced the _Tennyson_.

"We should worry," came flippantly through the ether from the
_Dorothea_.

"You little fellows better take in your sky-sails and furl your funnels;
you'll be blown about like chicken feathers in a gale of wind," came
majestically from Uncle Sam's big warship.

Then the air was filled with a clamor for more news from the Neptune
Beach operator.

"You fellows give me a pain," he flashed out, depressing and releasing
his key snappily. "I've sent out all I can. Don't you think I know my
job?"

"Let us know at once when you get anything more," came commandingly from
the battleship.

"Oh, you _Iowa_, boss of the job, aren't you?" remarked the flippant
_Dorothea_.

"M-M-M!" (laughter) in the wireless man's code came from all the others,
Jack included. The air was vibrant with silent chuckles.

"Say, you fellows, what is going on?" came a fresh voice. Oh, yes, every
wireless operator has a "voice." No two men in the world send alike.

"Hello, who are you?" snapped out Neptune Beach.

"_British King_, of the King Line, Liverpool for Philadelphia. Let us in
on this, will you? What you got?"

"Big storm. Affect all vessels within three hundred miles of Hatteras.
This is Neptune Beach."

"Thanks, old chap. Won't bother us, don't you know," came back from the
_British King_, whose operator was English. "Kind regards to you
fellows. Hope you don't get too jolly well bunged up if it hits you."

"Thanks, Johnny Bull," from the _Dorothea_. "I reckon we can stand
anything your old steam tea-kettle can."

The wireless chat ceased. Sam hastened forward to the sacred precincts
of the captain's cabin, while Jack went below to his belated dinner. As
he went he noticed that the sea was beginning to heave as the dusk
settled down, and the ship was plunging heavily. The wind, too, was
rising. The social hall was brilliantly lighted. From within came
strains of music from the ship's orchestra. Through the ports, as he
passed along to the saloon companionway, Jack could see men and women in
evening clothes, and could catch snatches of gay conversation and
laughter.

"Humph," he thought, "if you'd just heard what I have, a whole lot of
you would be getting the doctor to fix you up seasick remedies."

In the meantime Sam, cap in hand, presented the message to the captain.
The great man took it and read it attentively.

"This isn't a surprise to me," said Captain McDonald, "the glass has
been falling since mid-afternoon. Stand by your instruments, lad, and
let me know everything of importance that you catch."

"Very well, sir." Sam, who stood in great awe of the captain, touched
his cap and hastened back. He adjusted his "ear muffs," but could catch
no floating message. The air was silent. He sent a call for Neptune
Beach, but the operator there told him indignantly not to plague him
with questions.

"I'll send out anything new when I get it," he said. "Gimme a chance to
eat. I'm no weather prophet, anyhow. I only relay reports from the
government sharps, and they're wrong half the time. Crack!"

Sam could sense the big spark that crashed across the instruments at
Neptune Beach as the indignant and hungry operator there, harassed by
half a dozen ships for more news, smashed down his sending key.




CHAPTER III

A STRANGE REQUEST


When Jack came on deck again, he thought to himself that it was entirely
likely that the warning sent through space from Neptune Beach would be
verified to the full by midnight. The merriment in the saloon appeared
to be much subdued. The crowd had thinned out perceptibly and hardly
anybody was dancing.

The ship was rolling and plunging like a porpoise in great swells that
ran alongside like mountains of green water. Although it was dark by
this time, the gleam of the lights from the brilliantly illuminated
decks and saloon showed the white tops of the billows racing by.

Just as Jack passed the door leading from the social hall to the deck, a
masculine figure emerged. At the same instant, with a shuddering,
sidelong motion, the _Tropic Queen_ slid down the side of a big sea. The
man who had just come on deck lost his balance and went staggering
toward the rail. The young wireless man caught and steadied him.

In the light that streamed from the door that the man had neglected to
close, Jack saw that he was a thickset personage of about forty,
black-haired and blue-chinned, with an aggressive cast of countenance.

"What the dickens----" he began angrily, and then broke off short.

"Oh! It's you, is it? The wireless man?"

"The same," assented Jack.

"Well, this is luck. I was on my way up to your station. On the boat
deck, I believe it is. This will save me trouble."

The man's manner was patronizing and offensive. Jack felt his pride
bridling, but fought the feeling back.

"What can I do for you, Mr.--Mr.----"

"Jarrold's the name; James Jarrold of New York. Have you had any
messages from a yacht--the _Endymion_--for me?"

"Why, no, Mr. Jarrold," replied Jack wonderingly. "Is she anywhere about
these waters?"

"If she isn't, she ought to be. How late do you stay on watch?"

"Till midnight. Then my assistant relieves me till eight bells of the
morning watch."

Mr. Jarrold suddenly changed the subject as they stood at the rail on
the plunging, heaving deck. Somebody had closed the door that he had
left open in his abrupt exit, and Jack could not see his face.

"We're going to have bad weather to-night?" he asked.

"So it appears. A warning has been sent out to that effect, and the sea
is getting up every moment."

Mr. Jarrold of New York made a surprising answer to this bit of
information.

"So much the better," he half muttered. "You are, of course, on duty
every second till midnight?"

"Yes, I'm on the job till my assistant relieves me," responded the young
wireless chief of the _Tropic Queen_.

"Do you want to make some money?"

"Well, that all depends," began Jack doubtfully. "You see, I----"

He paused for words. He didn't want to offend this man Jarrold, who,
after all, was a first-cabin passenger, while he was only a wireless
operator. Yet somehow the man's manner had conveyed to Jack's mind that
there was something in his proposal that implied dishonesty to his
employers. Except vaguely, however, he could not have explained why he
felt that way. He only knew that it was so.

Jarrold appeared to read his thoughts.

"You think that I am asking you to undertake something outside your line
of duty?"

"Why, yes. I--must confess I don't quite understand."

"Then I shall try to make myself clear."

"That will be good of you."

The man's next words almost took Jack off his feet.

"When you hear from the _Endymion_, let me know at once. That is all I
ask you."

"Then you are expecting to hear from the yacht to-night?" asked Jack
wonderingly. It was an unfathomable puzzle to him that this somewhat
sinister-looking passenger should have so accurate a knowledge of the
yacht's whereabouts; providing, of course, that he was as certain as he
seemed.

"I am expecting to hear from her to-night. Should have heard before, in
fact," was the brief rejoinder.

"There are friends of yours on board?" asked Jack.

"Never mind that. If you do as I say--notify me the instant you get word
from her, you will be no loser by it."

"Very well, then," rejoined Jack. "I'll see that you get first word
after 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 of
the reward I'll give you for obeying my instructions. When you bring me
word that the _Endymion_ is calling the _Tropic Queen_, I shall probably
have some messages to send before the captain of this ship is aroused
and blocks the wire with inquiries."

"What sort of messages?" asked Jack, his curiosity aroused to the
utmost. He was now almost sure that his first impression that Jarrold
was 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't
get any too big money. Well, there's big coin for you to-night if you do
what I say when the _Endymion_ calls. I want to talk to her before
anyone 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 around
over his shoulder.

The door behind them had opened and a stout, middle-aged man of military
bearing had emerged. He had a gray mustache and iron-gray hair, and wore
a loose tweed coat suitable for the night. Jack recognized him as a
Colonel Minturn, who had been pointed out to him as a celebrity the day
the ship sailed. Colonel Minturn, it was reported, was at the head of
the military branch of the government attending to the fortifications of
the Panama Canal. The colonel, with a firm stride, despite the heavy
pitching of the _Tropic Queen_, walked toward the bow, puffing at a
fragrant 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 in
speculation over the man's strange conduct. It was his duty to relieve
Sam, who would not come on watch again till midnight.

As he mounted the steep ladder leading to the "Wireless Hutch," he could
feel 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 shake
the stout steel fabric of the _Tropic Queen_ from stem to stern.

The wind, too, was shrieking and screaming through the rigging and up
among the aerials. Jack involuntarily glanced upward, although it was
too dark to see the antennae swaying far aloft between the masts.

"I hope to goodness they hold," he caught himself thinking, and then
recalled that, in the hurry of departure from New York, he had not had a
chance to go aloft and examine the insulation or the security of their
fastenings himself.

In the wireless room he found Sam with the "helmet" on his head. The boy
was plainly making a struggle to stick it out bravely, but his face was
pale.

"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 hurriedly
handed 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 and
adjusted the helmet that Sam had just discarded; "he's got his, all
right, and he'll get it worse before morning."

Sam came back after a while. He was deathly pale and threw himself down
on his bunk in the inner room with a groan. He refused to let Jack send
for a steward.

"Just leave me alone," he moaned. "Oh-h, I wish I'd stayed home in
Brooklyn! Do you think I'm going to die, Jack?"

"Not this trip, son," laughed Jack. "Why, to-morrow you will feel like a
two-year-old."

"Yes, I will--not," sputtered the invalid. "Gracious, I wish the ship
would sink!"

After a while Sam sank into a sort of doze, and Jack, helmet on head and
book in hand, sat at the instruments, keeping his vigil through the long
night hours, while the storm shrieked and rioted about the ship.

The boy had been through too much rough weather on the _Ajax_ to pay
much attention to the storm. But as it increased in violence, it
attracted even his attention. Every now and then a big sea would hit the
ship with a thundering buffet that sent the spray flying as high as the
loftily perched wireless station.

The wind, too, was blowing as if it meant to blow the ship out of the
water. 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 to
twelve.

Above the