Roy adjusted his receivers, threw over his switch, and listened in.
A grin came over his face. The air was as noisy as the old football
field at home when Central City was winning. Everybody was yelling
through space at somebody else. It was one terrific babel of wireless
voices. It seemed to Roy as though everybody within three hundred miles
who had a radio instrument was using it. But through all the racket
he could plainly distinguish the whining call of the Brooklyn Navy
Yard. There was no mistaking that station. Roy tuned in and caught the
message. It was an order for a torpedo-boat destroyer to start from
Newport News next day for Brooklyn for an overhauling in the dry dock.
Then Roy shifted to a commercial wave-length and caught a message from
the incoming liner _Kroonland_, asking the police boat to meet her
at quarantine to take off a card shark who had been caught fleecing
fellow-passengers. The Clyde liner _Iroquois_ was announcing to her
owners her probable hour of arrival from San Domingo. The signals came
so sharp and clear that Roy felt certain they were sent from the
steamer he had noticed earlier in the evening, which was now almost
abreast of them.
Night after night he had listened to wireless operators chatting to
each other through the air, exchanging gossip and friendly messages.
He hoped it would not be long before he became acquainted with some
of his fellow operators so that he, too, could join in the evening
gossip. But Roy was reluctant to start a conversation with a stranger.
He feared he might be thought “fresh.” Now, as he looked out of a
window at the glowing ship so near at hand, he suddenly decided to talk
with her, and see if she were the _Iroquois_. In a minute he had found
the _Iroquois_’ call in his wireless directory, and the minute the
_Iroquois_ stopped talking he pressed his key.
“KVF--KVF--KVF--WNA,” sounded his signal, as the blue sparks leaped in
his instrument.
Almost immediately came the reply, “WNA--III--GA.”
“Where are you, _Iroquois_?” asked Roy.
“Off the Jersey coast,” came the answer, “about opposite Barnegat.”
“Is there a steamer between you and shore?” flashed back Roy.
“Yes. What of it? Who wants to know?”
“That’s us,” flashed back Roy, “the _Lycoming_.”
“Never heard of you. Are you a tramp? Where from?”
“No. New Confederated liner--maiden voyage New York to Galveston. Roy
Mercer, operator--just wanted to say howdy-do.”
“Congratulations and thanks,” came the reply. “First job?”
“Very first.”
“Good luck. How did the Giants make out to-day?”
“Haven’t heard,” said Roy.
“Good-bye, old top. My name’s Graham. Call me up again.” And the
_Iroquois_ passed on, while Roy got his messages ready for transmittal.
There were not many of these. The captain had filed a final report for
the owners: a Wall Street broker ordered the sale of a thousand shares
of United States Steel if the market rose. A salesman from Toledo
wanted his firm to inform him when he could guarantee delivery of some
machinery he had sold. And the usual number of pleasure-seekers were
sending messages to their homes, announcing their departure from New
York. Roy sent off the captain’s communication first, then quickly got
rid of his commercial messages. For a long time he sat at his table,
listening to the interesting messages that were pulsating through the
nocturnal air. He felt sure that as long as he lived he could never
grow tired of listening to these interesting voices of the night.
When ten o’clock approached, he tuned to the Arlington wave-length
and waited to catch the time and weather signals. Later still, he
listened in for the daily news-letter sent out each night by the
Marconi Company, for publication next day in the marine newspapers that
wireless telegraphy had made possible on shipboard. The _Lycoming_
had not subscribed to this service and it was not permissible for
Roy to give out the news. But there was nothing to prevent him from
picking it out of the air for his own information, or from giving it
to the captain. In fact, the Marconi Company rather expected this
as a courtesy to captains on ships using their service. So Roy was
particular to take every word of the eight-hundred-word news-letter
that was flashed forth to the world late that night.
The German peace delegates had handed their reply, containing counter
proposals, to the secretariat of the peace commission. The despatch
gave the main points in the hundred-and-forty-six-page answer of the
Germans. A troop call had been issued in Toronto in readiness for the
pending strike of workers. A new rebellion was anticipated in Ireland.
Captain Andre Tardieu had made a remarkable appeal to ten thousand
soldiers of the American Expeditionary Force for a closer union between
France and America. The baseball scores were given and Roy was pleased
to learn that the Giants had beaten Brooklyn five to two and increased
their lead. Hereafter he would be a Giant fan. He wondered if Graham,
on the _Iroquois_, had caught the news and was almost tempted to call
him up. There was a brief résumé of stock market conditions. But what
interested Roy most was the announcement that the NC-4 would make its
last lap next day from Lisbon to London.
Roy had often picked these nightly news reports from the air, but
never before had they meant to him what this message meant now. Always
before, he had been on land and had read in the evening papers much of
the news included in the nightly news-letter. Now he was at sea. Every
hour carried the _Lycoming_ farther from shore. By morning, perhaps,
she would be out of sight of land. Already Roy was beginning to feel
that sense of isolation, of loneness, that comes to first voyagers
on the sea. When he thought of all the ships that had gone down and
all the people who had perished when help was really but a few hours
distant, he thrilled anew at the thought that he could talk to other
ships, even if they were hundreds of miles away, and so get help or
bring help. With this thought came a new sense of the importance of his
post. Truly his was a vital share in sailing the ship. It called for
the best there was in him.
By the time he had copied the weather-report and the news-letter,
it was so late he thought the captain was probably asleep. Every
night since Roy came aboard, he had sent the weather-report to
Captain Lansford as soon as he had received it. The captain had never
acknowledged the receipt of these messages nor indicated that he was
pleased to have them. Yet Roy thought the commander ought to know about
the weather. He was in a quandary. Should he risk the wrath of the
captain by taking the message to him, or should he wait until morning
and send it? Roy thought the matter over.
“I’m going to take it to him,” he said, finally. “He ought to have this
report and I’ll see that he gets it, no matter what happens.”
He picked up the sheet of paper, skipped down the ladder, and presently
found himself before the door of the captain’s cabin. His rather
hesitating knock was greeted by a gruff voice from within.
“What do you want?”
“This is the wireless man with the weather-report and the night’s news,
Captain,” replied Roy.
An angry exclamation was Roy’s answer. The door was flung open, and the
captain, in his pajamas, stood in the doorway, boiling with wrath.
“Weather-report!” he bellowed contemptuously. “Weather-report! What
do I want of your weather-reports? Don’t you know better than to
come battering at my door in the middle of the night? I left word
that I should not be disturbed, and here you come bothering me with
weather-reports. I’ll have obedience on shipboard, sir, or I’ll put you
in irons. Now get out. And don’t you ever bother me again with your
weather-reports.”
“But, Captain Lansford,” objected Roy, “I thought you might want
to know the news, and I have the day’s news-letter as well as the
weather-report. I did not know that you were asleep or that you had
left orders not to be disturbed. I am sorry, sir. I only wished to be
of use, not to annoy you.”
“Bah! More of your wireless nonsense!” roared the captain, and he
banged his door shut. Yet he snatched Roy’s papers, weather-report and
all, before he did so.
Roy turned back toward the wireless house, but his encounter with
the captain had driven every vestige of sleepiness from his eyes.
He decided that he would look about the ship a bit. It was cool and
pleasant and there were no passengers to bother him. It was against
the rules for passengers to visit the wireless house, but already
several had asked Roy for permission to do so. Roy hardly knew how to
refuse such a request without seeming rude, so he was glad to avoid
passengers. He walked aft and for a while stood looking over the
taffrail at the foaming trail the _Lycoming_ left behind her. Then he
went forward and looked ahead. There was no moon, but the stars shone
clear and it was surprisingly light. The smallest object would have
been visible on the water at a considerable distance. In the very nose
of the boat was a sailor on watch. The man stood so motionless and
leaned so snugly against the bow that Roy was not at first certain the
figure was a man. He was tempted to go talk with him, but remembered
in time that it is forbidden to converse with the men on watch. So he
leaned over the rail and quietly watched the huge bow wave. He was
close to the ladder that leads to the bridge.
Suddenly a voice, very low, but clear and distinct, said, “Come up
here, Mr. Mercer.”
Roy looked up and saw Mr. Young, the first officer, standing above him
on the bridge. Quickly he scrambled up the ladder and found himself
beside the man in command of the _Lycoming_. Roy knew that passengers
were forbidden on the bridge, and was fearful lest he might be
trespassing himself. But Mr. Young soon dispelled his fears.
“As wireless man,” he said, “you have a perfect right to come on the
bridge, though it might be as well not to do so when the captain is
here. You know he has some peculiar ideas.”
Mr. Young smiled, yet there was nothing unkind in his smile. Like the
purser, the first mate seemed to have some feeling of kindness toward
his superior. Roy wondered at it. He did not see how anybody could
feel kindly toward such a gruff old dragon. He was the more surprised
because Mr. Young, like Purser Robbins, was the very soul of good
nature. Roy had been attracted to him from the start, for Mr. Young
had made an evident effort to put Roy at his ease. Now he felt more
grateful than ever to this great, blond giant. For Mr. Young was even
larger than Captain Lansford.
Quietly the two conversed in the starlight, though Mr. Young never
took his eyes from the water before them. Occasionally he spoke a
word to the steersman behind him in the wheel-house. He asked Roy
many questions about his life and seemed interested in him. Roy was
immensely pleased when Mr. Young remarked that he was glad the ship
was equipped with wireless and that Roy was the operator. And Roy was
astonished beyond belief when Mr. Young told him that he had sailed as
first mate to Captain Lansford for fifteen years. Roy did not see how
anybody who could possibly get another post would willingly serve with
Captain Lansford. When he said as much to Mr. Young that officer smiled.
“Wait until you know Captain Lansford a little better,” said Mr. Young,
“and you may think differently.” But Roy was sure that nothing could
ever change his mind about Captain Lansford. His most fervent wish
was to do his work satisfactorily for the next three months and get a
transfer to some other vessel.
It was after midnight when Roy sought his bunk. But first he went to
his instrument and listened in for several minutes. If the sea was as
calm elsewhere as it was about the _Lycoming_, he did not believe any
ship could be in distress--unless it might be from fire. Always, since
he had watched the flames on that Brooklyn pier, he was thinking about
fire at sea. If any vessel needed help, he did not intend that it
should lack assistance through negligence on his part.
When finally Roy retired, he was weary enough. Yet for a long time he
could not sleep. The unaccustomed throbbing of the great engines, the
vibration of the ship, and the unfamiliar movement as the vessel rode
the long, smooth swells, kept Roy awake for a long time. Finally he did
sleep, but presently dreamed that Captain Lansford was a real dragon
and was about to drown him. Roy awoke with a cry of terror and found
that his coat had slipped from its peg and fallen across his face. In
another minute he was fast asleep again, and this time he slumbered
soundly until six bells in the morning watch, when the striking of the
ship’s bell awoke him.
Day after day the weather continued fair and the sea calm. Even off
Cape Hatteras, most famed of weather-breeders, the sky was like
turquoise and the sea like glass. On the second day out Roy was
delighted to discover a school of porpoises off the port bow. He had
never seen porpoises before, but had often read about these huge
playful fish-like creatures; and when he saw them leaping out of the
water, one after another, like so many runners clearing hurdles, he
knew at once what they were. To his delight they came close to the
ship, and for a long time swam ahead of it, as though towing the great
vessel. Roy knew that the _Lycoming_ was making at least fifteen knots
an hour or better than a mile in four minutes. Yet these big creatures
kept pace with her with no apparent effort; and when finally they swam
off, they darted away from the _Lycoming_ as though she were anchored.
“Whew!” whistled Roy. “If we’re going fifteen knots an hour, how fast
are those fellows moving now?”
As the steamer drew into southern waters, the gray-green color of the
ocean took on a bluish tint. Long before the ship entered the Gulf of
Mexico the water was of the most beautiful deep blue, the color being
emphasized by little whitecaps. Along the Florida coast the steamer
drew so close to shore that Roy could distinctly see the wide beaches,
with their crowds of bathers and the many automobiles rushing over the
smooth sands. Distinctly he could make out palm-trees and other growths
new and wonderful to him. Often he watched the water in the hope that
he might discover a manatee, but those strange animals frequent shallow
waters and Roy saw none of them.
On the way down the coast there was little for Roy to do. Occasional
messages came for the captain; passengers sent messages infrequently;
and Roy regularly caught the weather signals and picked from the air
the nightly news-letter as long as his instruments could catch the
ever fainter pulsations in the ether. These he continued to send to
the captain by messenger. Before the journey ended, the _Lycoming_ had
passed out of range of the transmitting instrument. After that Roy had
only the weather-report to send.
The first time this occurred, the captain’s steward appeared at the
wireless house and soon struck up a conversation with Roy. Casually
he asked for the daily news-letter. Roy guessed that he had been sent
by the captain expressly for this news-letter. But if that were true,
the captain gave no evidence of the fact. He continued to ignore Roy
and gave no indication of any interest in Roy’s work. To all outward
appearances he was merely tolerating Roy’s presence on board because he
was compelled to do so. And Roy could see no way to gain the captain’s
favor.
After a quick and uneventful run across the Gulf, the Texas coast was
sighted, and five days after leaving New York the _Lycoming_ was off
the port of Galveston.