The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Lost Liner Part 2

"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 pa.s.senger, 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 pa.s.senger 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 Ca.n.a.l. 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 howling and raging of the storm Jack could hear the big ship's bell ring out the hour, and then, faint and indistinct, came the cry of the bow watch, "All's well." It was echoed boomingly from the bridge in the deep voice of the officer who had the watch.

"Well, nothing doing on that _Endymion_ yet," pondered Jack.

He fell to musing on Jarrold's strange conduct. Why had the man suddenly vanished when Colonel Minturn appeared? What was his object in the strange proposal he had made to the young wireless man? What manner of craft was this _Endymion_, and how was it possible that she could live in such a sea and storm?

These, and a hundred other questions came crowding into his dozing brain. They performed a sort of mental pin-wheel, revolving over and over again without the lad's arriving at any conclusion.