SAFE ONCE MORE
Suddenly Captain McDonald had an inspiration.
“Metcalf!” he cried, above the storm.
“Sir!” was the alert response of the _Tropic Queen’s_ chief officer.
“Order the searchlight turned on that mast!”
One of the two quartermasters, struggling with the bucking, kicking
wheel, was ordered to get the apparatus ready and focus it on the
foremast.
The canvas hood was taken off the big light and then a switch snapped,
sputtering bluely. A radiant spear of light pierced the night. It
hovered vaguely for a few instants and then settled on the foremast.
It revealed a thrilling scene. Schultz had clasped in his arms the
unconscious form of Jack Ready. For the young wireless man, when he
collapsed, had been caught by a stay and held in position on the
cross-trees.
Slowly, and with infinite caution, the old quartermaster began to
descend the shrouds. It was a nerve-racking task to those looking on.
Jack was not a light-weight, and the descent of his rescuer, clasping
the boy with one arm while he held on with all his strength, was
painfully slow.
But at last they reached the deck in safety, and Captain McDonald was
there in person to meet them. He wrung Schultz’s hand in a tight grip as
the old seaman stood pantingly before him.
“That was as brave a bit of work as I’ve seen done since I’ve been going
to sea, Schultz,” he exclaimed. “I’ll see to it that the company gives
you recognition. But now let us take this lad to my cabin. He’s opening
his eyes and the doctor can give him something that will soon set him on
his feet again.”
And so it proved. Half an hour after Jack had been laid on a lounge in
the skipper’s cabin and restoratives had been administered by Dr. Flynn,
he was feeling almost as hale and hearty as ever, although his terrible
ordeal when he was flung back and forth pendulum-wise had left him with
a racking headache.
The captain showered congratulations on him, but reminded him that never
again must he risk his life in such a perilous way.
“The job could have waited till daylight, anyhow,” he said.
“I beg your pardon, sir,” said Jack, firmly but respectfully, “it could
not. You know that I was in communication with a ship—the yacht
_Endymion_—when the insulation wore away and my ‘juice’ began to leak?”
“No, I knew no such thing,” said the captain.
“Mr. Metcalf knew of it, sir.”
“In all the excitement caused by your exploit, young man, he must have
forgotten to tell me.”
“That was probably the reason, sir. But the _Endymion_——” The captain
broke in as if struck by some sudden thought.
“Jove, lad, the _Endymion_, you say?”
“Yes, sir, do you know her?”
“I know of her. She bears no good reputation. Once she was chartered to
the Haytian government and was used as a war ship; then she was in the
smuggling trade along the coast. The last I heard of her she was laid up
in the marine Basin at Ulmer Park. Her history has been one of troubles.
Do you feel strong enough to go back to your key?”
“Yes, sir,” exclaimed Jack eagerly. “Young Smalley, my assistant, is too
seasick to work to-night. I’ll take the trick right through.”
“Good for you, my boy. I’ll see that you are no sufferer by it. By the
way, did the _Endymion_ have any message? Was she in trouble?”
“No, sir, but they wished to give some sort of a radio to a Mr. James
Jarrold, one of the first-class passengers.”
The captain tapped his foot musingly on the polished wood floor of his
cabin.
“Odd,” he mused, “I wonder what possible communication they could have
to make to him. Is Jarrold a heavy-set man with a blue, square jaw and
bristly, black hair?”
“Yes, sir, that is the man to the dot.”
“I have noticed him at dinner. He sits at the first officer’s table.
Back in my head I’ve got a sort of indefinable idea that I’ve seen him
somewhere before, but just where I cannot, for the life of me, call to
mind just now.”
“It is too bad that the aërials went out of commission just as that
other operator was starting to give the message.”
“It was, indeed, but you must try now to pick up this _Endymion_ again.
I’m curious to know more of her and of our mysterious passenger.”
“I’ll report to you the instant I get anything, sir,” Jack assured him,
and hurried off.
On the way he passed Schultz and put out his hand with direct,
sailor-like bluntness.
“You saved my life to-night, Schultz. I’ll never forget it,” he said
simply, but there was a wealth of feeling behind the quiet words.
“Oh, dot makes it no nefer mindt, Yack,” said the old German. “Don’t get
excitedt ofer idt. Idt vos just a yob dot hadt to be done und I didded
idt.”
“It was a great deal more than that,” said Jack, with warmth. “I hope
some day I will get a chance to repay you.”
But Schultz, embarrassed and red as a beet under his tan, had hurried
off. Like most sailors, Schultz hated sentiment. To him, his daring deed
of saving Jack from his perilous perch in the cross-trees had been all
in the line of duty.
Back in the wireless room once more, Jack looked in on Sam. The boy was
sitting up in bed staring feverishly out into the wireless room.
“Oh, Jack, I’m glad you have come back!” he exclaimed. “Where have you
been?”
“Fixing a little job of work, youngster. Something was wrong with the
wireless. How do you feel?”
“Better, but oh, what a head! It’s the worst feeling I ever knew!”
“Like something to eat?”
“For heaven’s sake, don’t mention it! The mere thought makes me feel bad
again. But, listen, Jack, I’ve something to tell you. I wakened about
half an hour ago and there was a man out there in the wireless room.”
“What?”
Jack had temporarily forgotten all about Jarrold. Now Sam’s remark
brought the earlier scene back to him. What had Jarrold been doing in
the wireless room while he was absent?