Transcriber’s Notes:
Text enclosed by underscores is in italics.
Additional Transcriber’s Notes are at the end.
* * * * *
The Young Wireless Operator--Afloat
* * * * *
_Books by Lewis E. Theiss_
_In Camp at Fort Brady_
A CAMPING STORY. 304 Pages.
_His Big Brother_
A STORY OF THE STRUGGLES AND TRIUMPHS OF A LITTLE SON OF LIBERTY. 320
Pages.
_Lumberjack Bob_
A TALE OF THE ALLEGHANIES. 320 Pages.
_The Wireless Patrol at Camp Brady_
A STORY OF HOW THE BOY CAMPERS, THROUGH THEIR KNOWLEDGE OF WIRELESS,
“DID THEIR BIT.” 320 Pages.
_The Secret Wireless_
A STORY OF THE CAMP BRADY PATROL. 320 Pages.
_The Hidden Aerial_
THE SPY LINE ON THE MOUNTAIN. 332 Pages.
_Cloth Bound--Colored Frontispiece
Price, $1.75 net each_
* * * * *
[Illustration]
The Young Wireless Operator--Afloat
or _HOW ROY MERCER WON HIS SPURS IN THE MERCHANT MARINE_
By LEWIS E. THEISS
_Illustrated by Original Photographs_
[Illustration]
W. A. WILDE COMPANY
BOSTON CHICAGO
* * * * *
_Copyrighted, 1920_,
BY W. A. WILDE COMPANY
_All rights reserved_
THE YOUNG WIRELESS OPERATOR--AFLOAT
Dedication
To few of us is it given to know where our arrows come to earth or what
shore is washed by the ripples we create in the sea of life. But so
much is certain: somewhere our arrows _do_ come to earth, and somewhere
the waves we set in motion _do_ wash the beach. And each arrow shot
from our bows and each wavelet we set in motion is fraught with unseen
possibilities for good or evil. Whether we be man or child or growing
youth, we cannot escape the responsibilities entailed; and, if we do
with our might what our hands find to do, our arrows and our ripples in
Time’s sea can cause only good.
In His wise providence the Almighty has so ordained that the faith and
enthusiasm of youth are often more effective than the coldly reasoned
acts of maturity. If so be that many lads shall read this and companion
stories of the wireless and find therein either pleasure or profit,
they will owe their gain to the fact that a youth who has passed to
the great beyond shot his arrow into the air with all the courage and
enthusiasm that a high soul and a brave heart could command. To that
youth,
Nelson Kimball Wilde
whose boyish enthusiasm for radio communication first interested the
writer in wireless telegraphy, this book is affectionately dedicated.
Foreword
To-day the American Merchant Marine commands the respect of the world,
for in increasing numbers vessels flying the Stars and Stripes are seen
on every sea.
That our boys may know more about the many experiences which such
vessels encounter and to tell the story of how Roy Mercer made good as
a wireless operator upon one of these vessels, is the purpose of the
author in penning this story of life on the high sea.
Contents
I. THE NEW WIRELESS MAN 11
II. THE SECRET OF SUCCESS 24
III. ROY’S FIRST FIRE 34
IV. IN LOWER NEW YORK 50
V. A FRIEND IN NEED 69
VI. OFF TO SEA 81
VII. THE NIGHT’S WORK 94
VIII. WHERE COTTON IS KING 107
IX. THWARTING A WIRELESS INCENDIARY 129
X. A LESSON IN DIPLOMACY 152
XI. A VISIT TO CHINATOWN 173
XII. A CLOSE CALL 198
XIII. ROY GAINS ANOTHER FRIEND 221
XIV. A TRIP TO THE OIL FIELDS 229
XV. S O S 240
XVI. LATITUDE 28--LONGITUDE 96 266
XVII. LAND AHEAD! 281
XVIII. BACK INTO THE STORM 298
XIX. VICTORY 314
* * * * *
The Young Wireless Operator--Afloat
CHAPTER I THE NEW WIRELESS MAN
Roy Mercer sat by a window in a fast express-train that was rushing
across the Newark meadows on the way to New York City. Three years
previously Roy had made a similar trip. As he looked back now over
those three years, it seemed to him impossible that so much could have
happened in so short a time. When he had first crossed these same
meadows the country was engaged in deadly warfare, and he had come,
with other members of the Camp Brady Wireless Patrol, to help the
government find the secret wireless system by which German spies were
sending abroad information as to the movements of American troops and
American transports. Long ago the wireless patrol had accomplished its
work and gone home. Now the great World War was ended. And although
peace had not been formally declared, more than seven months had
already elapsed since the signing of the armistice that had brought an
end to the terrible conflict. In that period the nation had swung back
into its accustomed channels, and the activities of peace had succeeded
the feverish efforts of war.
But the thing that had made the greatest difference in Roy’s life was
the death of his father. Long ago the cherished hope of a college
course had disappeared, for upon Roy had devolved the duty of caring,
not only for himself, but also for his mother. Manfully he had put
aside his desire and taken up the hard task that confronted him.
Through great determination and perseverance, coupled with the devotion
of his mother, Roy had managed to complete his course at the Central
City High School. Now, at nineteen years of age, he was about to make
his way alone in the world.
His active outdoor life, and the hard work he had been compelled to
do since the death of his father, had developed Roy both physically
and mentally. Always alert, keen, and quick, in these last few months
he had developed unusual qualities of self-reliance, trustworthiness,
and good judgment that promised well for his future success. But Roy
was fortunate enough to have more than good qualities to start life
with. Unlike many boys who go to New York to seek their fortunes, Roy
already had a job. He was going to be the wireless man on the steamship
_Lycoming_. The vessel was one of the new steamers built by Uncle Sam
during the war, and was very shortly to make her maiden trip as a
coastwise liner between New York and Galveston.
As Roy sat musing over the events that had led up to his present
journey to America’s greatest seaport, his train of thought was
suddenly interrupted by the loud voice of a brakeman.
“Manhattan Transfer!” shouted that individual. “Change cars for lower
New York. This car goes to the Pennsylvania Station at Thirty-third
Street.”
The train came to a grinding stop. Immediately there was great hustle
and bustle. Passengers poured out of the coaches and crossed the narrow
platform to the waiting cars on the farther track. Others stood on the
platform ready to swarm into the newly arrived train. Roy’s destination
was lower Manhattan, but he made no move to change cars. His orders did
not require him to report for duty until the next day. He was in no
hurry. He had come a day ahead of time in order to familiarize himself
with his instruments and his new quarters, and make the acquaintance of
his future associates. Just now he wanted to see something of the city.
So he sat quietly in his seat, watching the hurrying throng on the
platform.
Presently there was a slight shock that jarred the great steel coaches,
and Roy knew that the big steam locomotive that had hauled the train
from Central City had been replaced by an electric locomotive that
was to pull the train through the tunnel under the Hudson River. A
few seconds later the conductor cried out his warning, and the train
glided smoothly away from the long platform. Soon it was flying across
the stretches of meadow that lay between the junction point they had
just left and the landward side of the Palisades, where it would plunge
under ground.
The very last leg of Roy’s journey had begun. The very last step in
that long stairway of years that led from the cradle to man’s estate
was under foot. For though Roy lacked two years of his majority, he was
henceforth to take a man’s place among men. Roy thrilled at the thought
that inside of twenty-four hours he would no longer be plain Roy
Mercer, the Central City High School lad, but Mr. Mercer of the Marconi
service, with his own quarters aboard a fine ship, a place at the
officers’ table, and a smart uniform. Perhaps the idea of the uniform
appealed to Roy quite as much as did the knowledge that he was about
to take his place among the ship’s officers. His heart beat fast, and
his whole being thrilled with pride at the thought that he was the
youngest operator in the Marconi service. Roy fairly hugged himself as
he thought of his good luck in securing such a desirable berth.
Then the thought came to him that perhaps it wasn’t all luck after all.
Certainly, he thought, he must have deserved at least a part of his
good fortune. There was nothing conceited about Roy. But he knew, as
no one else could know, how hard he had worked to perfect himself in
wireless telegraphy, and how faithful he had been in the performance of
his duty as a member of the wireless patrol. For it was the reputation
that he had made during the wireless patrol’s search for the secret
wireless that had won him his present position as wireless man on the
_Lycoming_.
Straightway he fell to musing over the events of the years that had
passed since his first summer in camp at Fort Brady. Vividly he
recalled how he and Henry Harper had slowly and laboriously constructed
their first wireless outfits after some blueprint patterns sent to
Henry by the latter’s uncle; how every member of the Camp Brady group
had made a similar instrument; how the little band had become the
wireless patrol when war threatened, and how they had run down the
German dynamiters at Elk City. With pride he thought of his recent
services in New York, when he and three other members of the wireless
patrol had been selected to help the United States Secret Service
uncover the secret wireless of the Germans. Roy was not the sort of boy
to flatter himself, but he knew well enough that never in the world
would he have been accepted in the Marconi service at his age or been
made wireless man on the _Lycoming_ had it not been for the efficient
work done in days past.
“It’s a mighty encouraging thing to know,” said Roy to himself, “that
my getting the job wasn’t all kick. If I earned _this_ place, I can
earn a still better one. But it means hard work. It means that I’ve got
to be absolutely faithful in everything I do, always on the job, always
on the lookout to help the company, always courteous to passengers,
always helpful to my captain. Gee whiz! It’s some job ahead of me. I
can see that all right. And I can see that above everything else I’ve
got to make good with my captain. What he says about my work will
determine whether or not I ever get ahead. But I’ll make good. I’ve
just got to. I’ve done it before and I can again. But it means work,
work, work.”
Roy’s heart beat high with courage. His jaws tightened and a look of
determination came into his face. Then succeeded a glow of pride as
Roy thought of the times he had already been tried and had made good.
He smiled with satisfaction as he recalled that it was he who caught
the message of the German spies at Elk City.
How well he recalled his vigil that night. How long the hours were.
How dark and still it was there in the forest, with his comrades of
the wireless patrol all asleep and he alone left to guard them and to
keep watch for forbidden radio messages. He recalled how sleepy he was,
how he had fought off his weariness and listened in, hour after hour,
for suspicious voices in the air. Even now his heart beat faster as he
lived over the final triumph of that night. He could almost hear again
that faint little buzz in his ear that proved to be the secret message
they were watching for.
Suppose he had been asleep at that instant. Suppose he had been
unfaithful in his watch. Suppose he had relaxed his vigilance for even
a few seconds. The message would never have been intercepted. The
dynamiters would never have been caught. The people of Elk City would
have paid for his faithlessness with their lives. Roy shuddered at the
thought of the awful wall of water that might have overwhelmed the
unfortunate dwellers in that city had the reservoir been dynamited.
“But I wasn’t unfaithful,” muttered Roy to himself. “I did my work
right, just as I am going to do it on board the _Lycoming_. And if I
do, I’ll win the good-will of Captain Lansford, just as sure as I won
that of Captain Hardy.” Again a look of determination came into Roy’s
face. “I’ve just got to make good,” he muttered to himself. “I’ve just
got to. And I will.”
A subtle change came over his face. Once more his mind had gone back
to the scenes about Elk City. He was thinking of his secret journey
in a motor-car through an isolated and rough mountain road with the
outfits of his companions. Vividly he recalled how a big boulder had
come crashing down the mountainside, breaking his steering gear. He
smiled with satisfaction as he recalled how he had met the situation
by improvising a wireless outfit with some wires, an umbrella, and the
battery of his car. How pleased his captain had been!
“I’m going to please Captain Lansford just as much,” said Roy to
himself, and once more that look of determination came into his face.
Then the train suddenly shot under ground and daylight was blotted out.
Down, down, deep into the earth Roy could feel the train descending,
though the grade was very gradual. His ears began to feel queer and he
knew that he must be in the deepest part of the tunnel. Then the train
moved upward. In another minute it shot into the light. Roy glanced out
of the window at the high cement walls on either side. They were at the
Pennsylvania Station. Roy rose and moved toward the door. His face was
flushed. His pulse beat fast. He felt like a runner toeing the mark. He
was about to begin the race of life. He felt fit. He was trained to the
minute. His whole being pulsed with joy. He had left boyhood behind.
Henceforth he would be a man among men. In every sense he determined
to be one. All aglow with high resolve, he passed out of the train,
through the great station, and into the roaring streets.
The glow of satisfaction faded from his face. Cold and hostile
seemed the city. The rushing traffic appeared cruel and heartless,
threatening to overwhelm even the vigilant. Passers-by were as cold and
unfriendly as the hard and echoing stone pavements. They brushed by,
seemingly indifferent to any one or anything but themselves and their
own concerns. The very air was raw and chilly. The entire atmosphere
was oppressive. It seemed to take the heart out of Roy. It made him
feel how tiny he was, how insignificant in comparison with this great
aggregation of forces that men had brought together. Suddenly Roy
realized that this was the thing he had to fight--this roaring thing
called a city, where every man’s hand would be against him, where he
could get ahead only by brute force, by overcoming whatever obstacles
rose in his way. Apparently there was not a soul to help him. Success
or failure depended upon his own efforts. The thought was bewildering,
crushing, disheartening. For an instant fear clutched his heart and
blanched his face.
And that was not because he was terrified by the noise of the
unaccustomed traffic, or confused by the hurry and bustle. Those
features of the city’s life were as familiar to Roy as the city itself
was, for in the weeks he had spent in New York during the search for
the secret wireless, he had become well acquainted with the geography
of the town. The difference was that then he was with friends. Henry
Harper and Lew Heinsling and Willie Brown were with him, and their
beloved leader, Captain Hardy, was always watching their movements to
keep them out of trouble and direct their efforts. Then Roy had been
among friends. Now he knew not where to find a friendly face. For the
first time in his life he was realizing, as thousands of boys before
him have realized, the awful loneliness that can come to one in a big
city. The feeling almost overwhelmed him. Gone were his plans to see
something of the city. A friendly face meant more to him now than all
the sights New York had ever held.
“I’ll go straight to the _Lycoming_,” said Roy to himself. “Even if I
don’t know any of the men on board, they will at least be friendly.”
He hurried over to Ninth Avenue and caught a south-bound elevated
railway train. In less than half an hour he left the train and made
his way to the water-front. The vast expanse of asphalt known as “the
farm,” that borders the Hudson for miles, was seething with traffic.
Skilfully Roy picked his way across the wide thoroughfare, dodging
trucks and drays, and heading straight for the big piers of the
Confederated Steamship Lines.
The watchman at the entrance stopped him and demanded to know his
business. Roy explained.
“Go on,” said the watchman, but he looked at Roy suspiciously.
Roy passed on into the great pier shed. At one side of the pier lay the
_Lycoming_. Nobody paid the least attention to Roy. He made his way
aboard the vessel.
“What do you want here?” asked a sailor gruffly, as he slouched on the
gangway.
“I want to see the captain,” said Roy.
“He’s busy. Come around later,” replied the sailor.
“I’m the new wireless man,” explained Roy.
“I didn’t recognize you, sir,” said the sailor, instantly straightening
up and touching his cap. “The captain is in his cabin. This way, sir.”
And he led Roy to an upper deck.
“Come in,” said a gruff voice, in answer to Roy’s knock.
Roy pushed open the captain’s door and stepped inside the cabin. “I’m
the new wireless man, Captain Lansford,” he said briefly. “My name is
Roy Mercer.”
The ship’s commander rose to his feet. He was fully six feet tall and
large of frame. His hair was black, and heavy, bushy, black brows
almost hid his dark, piercing eyes. His nose was large and hawk-like.
So weather-beaten was his skin that it seemed almost like leather.
For a moment he uttered not a word, as he looked Roy over from head
to foot. Then, in a tone of utter disgust, he said, “You--a wireless
man! Bah! A wireless babe! I’ll see about this quick,” and he stalked
angrily from the cabin.
“Wireless man! Bah!” repeated the captain as he hurried down the
stairway. “Thirty years I’ve sailed the seas and the only wireless I
ever saw was God’s lightning. Yet I never lost a man or a ship. The
owners have ordered it, and I suppose I’ll have to put up with their
newfangled machines. But I’ll be hanged if I’ll have an infant in
arms to work ’em. That’s flat. I’ll tell those Marconi people what’s
what.” And he bustled angrily off to the telephone in the office at the
shoreward end of the pier shed.
Meantime Roy stood in the captain’s cabin, disheartened and
disconsolate. No wonder he felt downhearted. The man he must please had
taken a dislike to him at the very outset. He did not know what to do,
so he did nothing. With a heart like lead he waited for the return of
Captain Lansford. Presently that irate individual came storming back.
“Get up to the wireless house,” he said roughly. “I’ve got to keep
you for three months until a new class is ready. But I don’t need any
wireless to run _my_ ship by, so don’t you come bothering me. Good-day,
sir.”
“Good-day, sir,” echoed Roy, but the echo was very faint indeed.
Disconsolately he stepped from the captain’s cabin, found his way to
the wireless house, and shut the door tight behind him. For the moment
his courage was almost gone. Sick at heart, he sat down to think over
the situation.