THE JOB
When Charlie had gone, Bill glanced at his wrist watch. It was just ten
minutes to nine. With a sigh of satisfaction, he picked up his cap.
Then, snapping off the electrics in the bathroom and the cabin, he, too,
went out.
It had been impossible for him to make preparations for this venture of
his since its inception at the beginning of the week. As he went out on
deck and forward toward the bridge, he could hardly believe that no
longer ago than Monday morning, he had been flying his amphibian north
to New York, with Osceola as passenger. Then had come the _Merrymaid_,
and capture by these pirates, their flying submarine and the raider,
this huge liner whose decks he was walking. That afternoon had come the
_Orleans_ affair; in the evening the collier _Blake_ had been taken.
Tonight, only Thursday. After the monotony of three days’ coaling, the
adventures of Monday seemed far away, except when he stopped to realize
that ever since then he had had no leisure whatsoever to develop his
plan.
“Good evening, sir.” The guard at the foot of the stair that led to the
bridge saluted, and Bill came back to the actual present with a start.
“Good evening, Schmidt.” He returned the man’s salute, and recognized
him as one of his derrick’s crew. “You look so spick and span I didn’t
know you at first glance.”
“Thank you, sir.” Schmidt smiled, keeping his rifle at present. “And I
feel a good bit more comfortable this way, sir. Coaling is filthy work,
Lieutenant.”
“Nothing dirtier.” Bill nodded and passed on up the stairs.
Above he found Lieutenant Schneider pacing slowly up and down. “Good
evening,” said Bill. “Mind if I join you for a few minutes?”
“I shall be honored, Herr Lieutenant,” returned the officer. “An
unlooked-for pleasure. A beautiful night, is it not? But I surmised that
like the rest of the mess you turned in directly after dinner.”
“I admit I’m tired,” Bill went on chattily, “quite as tired as the other
chaps, after the grind of the last few days. Chief Osceola was
completely done up. Had his dinner in bed, and I found him sound asleep
when I went below.”
“Don’t speak of bed,” grumbled the officer. “I wish I were there now. It
is just my luck to be on duty tonight.”
“I found the cabin hot and stuffy, so I thought I’d come up for a breath
of air before turning in. Heading more to northward, since we sank the
_Blake_, I see.”
“Yes, the course is nor’nor’east now. Captain von Hiemskirk is heading
the ship for the transatlantic passenger ship lane.”
“We don’t seem to be in any hurry, Lieutenant.”
“No, our speed is only sixteen knots. Everybody needs a rest, and the
Herr Baron, being a wise man, is saving coal.”
“It sounds foolish of me, a ship’s officer, to admit it, but I honestly
have only the haziest idea of our position now.”
“I don’t wonder at that,” laughed Schneider. “The way we changed our
course during the past week would make a snake break its back. At noon
today we were in latitude 38 degrees north, longitude 62 degrees
west—and we aren’t far from there now at the rate we’ve been steaming.”
“Mm—I thought we were much farther east,” remarked Bill, and then
changed the subject.
As he had now gained the information he wanted, he chatted for ten
minutes more with young Schneider, then, wishing him good night, went
below to his cabin.
Here he set the tiny alarm on his watch for twelve-thirty. From the
closet, he brought forth a civilian suit of his own, and one of
Osceola’s. These, together with two pairs of tennis shoes and two soft
felt hats that he found in their bags, he placed on the lounge. Again he
dug into the bottom of a kit bag and pulled forth a coil of rope, two
monkey wrenches and a flashlight. Placing these conveniently near the
clothing, he began to undress. Osceola still slept the sleep of
exhaustion. Without awaking him, Bill crept into his bed and turned off
the light.
It seemed but a moment or two later, though in reality three hours had
crept away, when the tinkle of his alarm bell brought Bill back to a
sleepy realization of the job before him. He switched off the alarm and
sat up in bed. Osceola’s voice cut the throbbing drone of the ship’s
machinery.
“What’s the big idea?”
“Time to get on the job,” Bill murmured in a low tone. “Had you
forgotten it? Don’t turn on the light.”
“No, I hadn’t forgotten. You said something about working out a plan of
yours tonight. But can’t we put it off for twenty-four hours? I’m
bleary-eyed, I’m so tired.”
Bill got out of bed. “So is everybody else aboard this packet. And
that’s why we’re pulling it off tonight.”
He tossed Osceola’s clothes on to the chief’s bed. “Here’s an old suit
of yours—get into it.”
“Oh, if you say so—” yawned his friend. “What are we going to do with
those wrenches? Crack the Baron’s safe?”
“What a pair of eyes you’ve got! I’d forgotten you could see in the
dark. No, you big galoot, this is not robbery you’re in for now. We’re
going to tie up the wireless operator. I want to do some broadcasting on
my own.”
“So that’s the way the wind blows!” Osceola, fully awake now, was
pulling on his trousers. “I have to hand it to you, boy, when it comes
to action—you act!”
“Come on—I know it’s risky business, but if we’re ever going to break up
this nest of pirates, we’ve got to have help.”
“You’re going to wire our position to that cruiser who was on our trail
Monday?”
“And to whomever else it may concern—yes, that’s the idea!”
Osceola grunted. “And what is the Herr Baron going to be doing to us
while the cruiser is trying to catch us?”
“Not a blooming thing, if the wireless man doesn’t spot who we are. I’ve
got a couple of handkerchiefs cut with slits for eyeholes. We can drape
them over our lovely features just like real thugs, when we get on
deck!”
“Swell!” responded his companion. “Gimme one of those wrenches. I’m all
set if you are.”
Bill glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “We’ll give him three
minutes.”
“Give who three minutes?”
“Charlie’s coming with us.”
“What? Not that crazy kid! He’s sure to gum the show.”
“No, he won’t. And we need a lookout, Osceola. The youngster worked like
a hero, getting dope about the wireless routine. I know it’s a
responsibility to let him take the risk—but the chap was so keen on
being in at the death—I simply hadn’t the heart to refuse him.”
“Well, so long as this is your party, I’ll say no more about dragging
Charlie into it. But I’d hate to be you if his mother finds out what
you’ve let him in for.”
A crack of light appeared under the door, and Charlie opened it, slipped
inside and closed the door behind him.
“Here I am,” he whispered.
“Not really,” Osceola whispered back, “why, I thought it was Christmas
Eve and Santa Claus had come to fill my stocking!”
“Try the other side of your bed when you get up next time, Chief,”
Charlie snickered. “Why the grouch? Don’t lose your nerve. If anybody
tries to hurt you, I’ll put salt on his tail.”
Osceola laughed good-humoredly. “You young scamp, if you don’t cut the
comedy and do what you’re told tonight, you’ll think you’ve had salt
rubbed on yours, along with the hiding you’ll get from me.”
“Thar she blows! thar she blows!” teased Charlie. “What a whale of a guy
you are, Chief!”
“Pipe down—both of you!” commanded Bill. “You make more noise than an
old maid’s tea party. What do you want to do—wake up the ship?”
“Well, let’s shove off then,” said Charlie in a lower tone, and started
for the door.
Bill caught his arm. “Not that way,” he warned. “The ports to this cabin
are regular windows, and we’re going out through them. There’s less
chance of being seen.”
“Shall I lock the door?” asked Osceola.
“No. If we’re able to pull this off, it will be a case of speed in
getting back here. The door may be handier then. Come on—mum’s the word.
I’ll go first—”
He stepped onto the window seat. A moment later he was through the broad
porthole, and out on deck. Not a soul was in sight. A nod to Osceola
brought the Chief to his side and they waited until Charlie reached the
deck.
With Bill in the lead, they walked swiftly forward until they came to
the open stair leading up to the boat deck. Motioning caution, Bill went
silently up the rubber-coated treads with the others close behind. He
knew that once above, they would be in plain sight of the bridge.
Therefore, before reaching the stairhead, he dropped to his knees and
crawled up to the deck level, careful to keep his head below the
skyline. Then, turning back to Charlie, he drew the boy’s head close to
his lips.
“I want you to stay here!” he whispered. “If anyone comes off the bridge
and makes for this stair, run down to the deck below and get out of his
way. When he’s gone, come back here. If anyone comes up the stair, crawl
into the shadow of that lifeboat. If you see anybody at all going toward
the wireless house, whistle twice and beat it back to your cabin, no
matter what occurs. Got it clear, now?”
Charlie, tense with excitement and proud of the responsibility given
him, nodded mutely. Then he moved to one side while Osceola slipped past
him, to lie beside Bill.
Diagonally across the deck from the stairhead aft of the ship’s second
funnel was a small superstructure, the little wireless house. Light
shone through the open window at the forward end of the structure.
Charlie, who had never seen an Indian travel over an open space when the
red man didn’t wish to be seen, was surprised to see Bill and Osceola
move forward flat on their stomachs. With the sinuous, wriggling motion
of snakes, the two slid across the starlit deck. In a few moments he
lost sight of them in the shadow of the ship’s great funnel.
“Gee,” he thought. “That sure is some stunt. Some day I’ve got to get
one of those guys to show me how they do it.”
In the obscurity of deep shadow, the two plotters got to their feet and
adjusted their masks.
“Can you see all right?” whispered Bill. “I wasn’t sure about the
eyeholes.”
“I can see. What next?”
“Get that lad in the wireless house from the window. I’ll take the
door.”
“Okay. Good luck!”
“Good luck to you. I’ll wait until I hear you speak.”
“I get you.”
Keeping always within the shadow cast by the big stack, and careful to
avoid the broad ray of light from the open window, Osceola glided
swiftly toward his goal.
The blond young man who sat at the open window, dozing, with a magazine
in his lap, awoke with a start.
“Stick up your hands and keep them there!” muttered a low voice.
Just outside the window, the dazed operator saw a white-faced blur in
the darkness. The grim figure behind the mask held a black object
pointed directly at his head.
Like most North Germans, the wireless expert was a sensible young man.
He held up his hands.