A few minutes later the purser stepped quietly into the wireless house.
Roy sat before his operating table, his head bowed on his extended arms.
“Cheer up!” called the purser. “This won’t do at all. Tell me what has
happened.”
Roy recounted the entire incident. As the recital continued, the
purser’s face became as sober as Roy’s had been.
“I don’t know a thing about electricity,” he commented, when Roy had
concluded his brief description of what had occurred. “Are you very
sure that you are correct?”
“Absolutely, Mr. Robbins. You see, the belt on the donkey-engine
was slipping. I noticed that at the start. The slipping of the belt
produced undue friction and that, in turn, developed frictional or
static electricity. The more the belt slipped, the more it became
charged with electricity. Finally the belt became so highly charged
that the electricity jumped to the swaying end of the broken bale
strap. This bale strap was broken into two pieces. The end swaying
caught the charge as it leaped from the belt and a second spark
occurred when the charge leaped the other gap in the strap. This last
part of the strap was grounded by the chain that ran down to the
metal frame of the ship. So there was a perfect mechanism for making
and discharging electricity. As long as the belt continued to slip,
electricity would have been generated. And every time the current was
discharged, there would have been a spark right in that loose cotton
where the bale was broken open.”
“I don’t know a thing about electricity, as I told you. But if you say
it was so, I have no doubt it was.”
“It’s just like electricity in the skies,” explained Roy. “You have
often seen lightning, Mr. Robbins. Lightning is only electricity
leaping from a cloud to the earth or to another cloud. We usually have
lightning in hot weather. Then the heated air from the earth rushes
upward with such velocity that it generates electricity, charging the
clouds with it, just as that whirling belt was charged by the friction
of the wheel. That electricity has to reach the earth. When the
potential is high enough, the current leaps from the cloud to the earth
and a spark occurs which we call lightning. Sparks are made only when
an electric current is interrupted in its flow and has to jump a gap.
Electricity is flowing through a telegraph-wire all the time, but there
is no spark because there is no break in the wire. But if the wire
should be cut and the ends held near together, the current would jump
the gap, making a spark as it leaped. That’s the thing that makes it
possible to have automobiles. Electric currents run from the magneto,
which generates them, to the spark-plugs in the cylinders. There the
currents have to leap tiny gaps and sparks result, which explode the
gasoline vapor. There are several ways to generate electricity, but the
current, once generated, always follows the same laws. Yet I couldn’t
make the captain understand. In fact he wouldn’t give me an opportunity
to explain. I tried to do my duty by the ship, and now I’m worse off
than ever. The captain will never have a bit of use for me after this.
I suppose I’ll not only lose my berth at the end of my three months,
but he’ll make such an unfavorable report about me that I’ll never have
another chance.”
“Don’t you worry about that, Roy. Leave it to me. I know the captain
like a book and I know how to fix things up. I don’t wonder you feel as
you do about Captain Lansford, but when you really know him, you’ll
feel differently. He has his peculiarities, like the rest of us, and
one of them is his utter hatred of what he terms newfangled ideas. The
greatest pride of his life is the fact that in thirty years at sea
he has never lost a man or a ship. If some one can show him that you
probably saved his ship from destruction, he’ll have a very different
idea of both you and wireless telegraphy.”
“But he won’t listen to any explanation,” said Roy, mournfully.
“Leave that to me. I know how to fix him. Meantime, continue to do your
work as faithfully as you know how. Forget that you are working under
Captain Lansford and remember that you are working for the welfare
of the _Lycoming_. If you do that, you can’t fail in time to win the
captain’s good-will. That’s his test of every soul aboard--whether or
not they are working for the good of the ship.
“When you threw off the engine belt and the engine was broken, you hit
the captain harder than you understood. He has a wonderful record for
sailing on time. We’re behind with our loading now. When that cotton
train does arrive, the captain will drive every soul like mad. We were
short-handed when we left New York. The captain has taken on four men
here at Galveston, but he doesn’t like their looks. If they aren’t any
better than they appear, he might as well not have hired them. But what
is most likely to delay us is the relative scarcity of roustabouts.
But if it’s humanly possible, he’ll be loaded on time. The loss of the
donkey-engine may interfere very seriously with loading operations.
You never can tell when you are going to need it. The thought of that
and not the mere injury to the engine is what made him so angry. But
remember this, Roy. Everything considered, the captain handled you very
gently. I know it was because he realized that you were sincere in your
belief that you were acting for the good of the ship. He didn’t believe
a word you said about the electricity. He thought you imagined that you
saw sparks. But whether you believe it or not, he gave you full credit
for trying to do your duty.”
“He took a mighty queer way of showing it,” said Roy, ruefully.
“He’s a queer man, Roy. But he’s absolutely honest and absolutely just.
His trouble is to see past his prejudices.”
“Then how are you ever going to make him understand about the
donkey-engine?”
“Leave that to me, Roy. I know how to manage it.”
But if the purser did know, he apparently forgot all about the matter.
At least so it seemed to Roy. Hours and even days passed with no
further reference to the affair by the purser, who was again busy,
and with no change in Captain Lansford’s grim attitude toward Roy. It
even seemed to Roy as though the captain avoided meeting him, and Roy
could interpret that only as meaning that the captain was still angry
with him and was annoyed at the sight of him. In consequence, Roy was
miserable, particularly because he thought the purser had failed him.
That hurt, for Roy still suffered from boyish impatience. He thought
that the purser, if he could remedy the matter at all, should be able
to fix it overnight.
Meantime, the process of loading went on apace. The warehouse was
emptied and every possible preparation made to rush the loading when
finally the belated cotton train arrived. Roy had watched with wonder
the way the ship was loaded in New York, but he was simply astounded at
the way the work went here. He had always heard that southern darkies
were indolent; but there was nothing indolent about these strapping,
dusky roustabouts. They seemed as tireless and tough as army mules.
Hour after hour they worked at top speed, shooting the cotton bales
into the _Lycoming’s_ hold in an uninterrupted stream and at a pace
that was past belief. Extra pay was offered them to work over-hours,
and by the aid of numerous electric lights the work continued until
well into the night. Very early in the morning work was resumed. So it
went until the last bale was aboard. The cargo was safely stowed and
the hatches battened down before the sailing hour had arrived.
Again Roy had to admit to himself that what seemed impossible had once
more been achieved and that it had been accomplished by the captain.
Lovable he was not. But something about him was so big and strong, so
dominating, so overpowering, that his spirit seemed to communicate
itself to those around him. Roy had often heard of magnetism, without
exactly understanding what it was. Now that he actually saw it, he did
not recognize it as magnetism. All he knew was that the captain, when
aroused, seemed so utterly to dominate those about him that they became
for the time being infused with his own spirit. And that spirit simply
would not admit the possibility of failure. To Captain Lansford the
word “if” was unknown.
Long before the loading was completed the last passenger was aboard,
and there was nothing to prevent the _Lycoming_ from casting off on
the stroke of the hour. As sailing time approached, Roy once more found
himself busy. As usual, there were messages to send for passengers and
more or less routine work to be done in connection with the departure
of the ship itself.
By this time Roy’s shyness was beginning to wear off. On the trip down
he had purposely kept aloof from passengers, and except for the first
officer, the chief engineer, and the purser, he had made few friends.
Now he felt more at home. He had become familiar with his duties and
his position. He knew what was expected of him. Naturally of a friendly
disposition, he was glad that his position permitted him to know the
various members of the crew and the passengers. Of the men in the
fire-room and the sailors he saw little; but he now tried to cultivate
the acquaintance of the other officers and of some of the passengers.
His sunny disposition and natural brightness soon made him a general
favorite. Had it not been for the captain’s uncompromising attitude
toward him, Roy would have been quite happy. He felt that he was
succeeding in his work, and he could feel that those about him liked
him. But it still hurt him to think that the purser had failed him.
On the first day out Roy was late in answering the dinner call. As he
passed the captain’s table, on the way to his own, some one whispered
audibly, “There he is now.” A score of persons looked around as Roy
made his way to his own seat. Hardly had he settled himself in his
chair before the purser’s voice rang out from a near-by table. It was
so unlike the pleasant-mannered purser thus to talk in loud tones that
Roy was astonished. He paused to listen, as everybody else seemed to be
doing.
Distinctly he heard the purser saying, “Yes, sir, saved the ship by his
quick wit. The donkey-engine belt was slipping and creating electricity
by friction. The broken end of a metal cotton bale strap swaying close
to the belt became electrified, and the charge leaped across a break
in the strap, like a spark jumping the gap in a spark-plug. There was
no end of cotton and hemp fibres swirling about in the wind, and the
spark itself occurred in some loose cotton that had bulged out of the
bale when the metal strap broke. It was broad daylight and nobody saw
the spark but the wireless man. He was watching for it. He knew that
sparks would continue to flash as long as the belt kept on generating
electricity and that another spark might set the cotton afire. The
chief engineer says it’s a miracle that the cotton didn’t catch. If it
had, the flames would have spread like lightning with all that loose
stuff about and the wind blowing half a gale. Fire would have been in
the hold before anybody could have said Jack Robinson, and nothing
short of a miracle could have saved the ship. For there was no steam up
to fight the flames with. The chief engineer says that if Mr. Mercer
hadn’t acted so promptly, the _Lycoming_ would certainly not have been
sailing to-day, to say the least.”
During this recital the dining-saloon had become as still as death.
Not a knife clinked or a glass tinkled. Every other voice was hushed.
The waiters paused in the aisles, trays held aloft, until the purser
concluded his recital. Speaking as though to his own table only, the
purser was really addressing everybody in the dining-saloon. Every one
could hear him plainly and distinctly, including Captain Lansford. Like
everybody else he listened carefully, but his face was inscrutable.
When Roy realized that the purser was talking about him his cheeks
flamed with embarrassment. He bent his head and kept his eyes fastened
on his plate. As the purser continued his story, hot anger came into
Roy’s heart. It was quite bad enough for the purser to fail to make an
effort to straighten out the matter with Captain Lansford. But for the
purser to humiliate him merely for the sake of making a telling story
was unforgivable. For Roy could not conceive why the purser should
mention the matter before the entire company of passengers unless
it were that he wanted to tell a striking story. Angry, confused,
embarrassed, Roy wanted to flee from the dining-saloon. But he could
not do so without making himself conspicuous. There was nothing to do
but go on with his dinner. So angry and confused that he hardly knew
what he was putting into his mouth, Roy tried to eat. But no sooner had
the purser stopped speaking than scores of eyes were focused on Roy,
and from every part of the room complimentary remarks were flung at
him. Then somebody cried, “Speech! Let’s hear from Mr. Mercer himself!”
The cry was taken up and the dining-saloon rang with the summons,
“Speech! Speech! Tell us more about it, Mr. Mercer.”
Roy was paralyzed with embarrassment. He had done nothing remarkable,
nothing out of the ordinary, and to be made a hero under such
circumstances was humiliating. In fact, in his worriment, Roy had
almost come to the conclusion that the captain must be right and that
far from being a hero he was only a troublesome meddler.
“Speech! Speech!” continued the cries.
But Roy was dumb to all appeal. He looked at his plate in silence and
his face flamed like fire.
“Ladies and gentlemen,” cried the purser, springing to his feet when
he saw Roy’s embarrassment, “Mr. Mercer is a man of deeds, not words.
Every one of us from the captain down will feel safer because he is
aboard. He evidently does not want to talk and we shall not make him.
I owe him an apology for putting him in such an embarrassing position.
I’ll punish myself by making a speech for him.”
The purser was both a ready and a witty speaker and for several minutes
he kept the diners laughing at his good jokes. That gave Roy time to
regain his composure. By the time the purser’s little speech was ended
Roy was quite himself again. When those seated at his table turned to
congratulate him he talked to them frankly and without embarrassment,
but refused to discuss the incident the purser had described. Numbers
of people spoke to him when the dinner was ended. Roy was glad when he
could escape and seek the seclusion of the wireless house.
Yet he felt far from being hurt or mortified, as he considered the
matter calmly in the seclusion of his own room. Every word that the
purser had said was true. The engine belt was generating electricity.
He _had_ prevented a fire by his action. Of that he had not the
slightest doubt. But there was nothing in what he had done that was in
any sense heroic or that deserved especial mention.
Any one else, seeing the danger, would have acted to save the ship. The
sole difference between himself and others who were on the scene was
that he had realized the danger and they had not. But he could claim no
credit for that. He was trained in electrical matters and would have
been a poor wireless man, indeed, if he had not detected the danger.
The only question was whether or not he had done his part well after
discovering the danger. Roy thought the matter over carefully. He could
not see that there was anything else he could have done. And that
belief made him feel better pleased about the matter.
He didn’t want the passengers to consider him a hero when he wasn’t a
hero. But, on the whole, Roy was glad the passengers knew about the
matter. He wanted to get acquainted with some of them and the incident
would make that an easy matter. But most of all he was glad that the
story had been told before the captain. It was worth the embarrassment
he had suffered to know that the captain had had to listen to the
story whether he wanted to or not, and to hear what some of the ship’s
officers, including the chief engineer, thought about the matter. Yes,
that certainly was worth while. Roy felt that he could almost forgive
the purser for telling the story, since the captain had had to listen
to it.
Suddenly a thought came to Roy. He pondered a moment over it, then
called out in astonishment and mortification. “Why, you old chump!” he
said to himself, “that’s the very reason the purser told the story--so
that the captain _would_ have to listen to it. If the purser had gone
to him with an explanation, the captain would have shut him off as he
did me when I tried to explain. All done for your own good, and here
you were doubting the purser and feeling angry at him for trying to
help you. I guess the captain was right when he called you a wireless
infant. Thank goodness, I haven’t had a chance to say anything to the
purser, or I’d probably have proved to him that I was a wireless fool
as well. You bet I won’t forget this lesson--or the purser’s kindness,
either.”
Presently the sober look disappeared from Roy’s face and he began to
chuckle. “Slick, wasn’t it?” he muttered. “I wonder if the old dragon
realizes that the purser put one over on him.”
If the captain did realize it, he gave no hint of the fact. His
treatment of both the purser and Roy altered not a whit. But Roy was
interested to note that before they had been afloat twenty-four hours
the captain’s steward stepped into the wireless house again, and after
some conversation casually asked for any news Roy had picked up.
Roy had plenty of news to give him. The Gulf coast was fairly dotted
with wireless stations. Brownsville, Port Arthur, Galveston, New
Orleans, Savannah, Key West, Pensacola, Fort Crockett, Fort Dodd, and
numerous other Marconi or government stations fringed the great body of
water, some of which would always be within reach of the _Lycoming_.
The United States Navy station at Guantanamo, the Marconi stations
at Miami, Jacksonville, Cape Hatteras, and Virginia Beach, the navy
stations at Charleston and the Diamond Shoals light off Hatteras, and
the army stations at Fort Moultrie and Fortress Monroe, were only a
few of the land stations that would likewise be within communicating
distance at some period of the journey. Ship stations by the dozen
would be within call during the voyage, for there was a constant
procession of ships up and down the Atlantic coast--ships sailing to or
from home ports along the ocean and the Gulf, vessels for Mexico, and
Central America, and Cuba, and steamers bound for South American ports
or destinations on the Pacific via the Panama Canal.
Some of the stations would always be within reach even though two
hundred and fifty to three hundred miles was about the limit of
Roy’s calling distance by day. When the atmosphere interfered or
thunder-storms were kicking up an aerial disturbance, he was sometimes
unable to talk more than half that distance. Even the slightest things
made a difference--the temperature, the nocturnal dampness, the contour
of the earth when talking to land stations, the level spaces over
the ocean. At the outside he could not talk more than three hundred
miles by day. But at night, when he got “freak” workings, he could
sometimes send a thousand miles and receive twice that distance. On
more than one occasion Roy had already distinctly caught the Arlington
weather signals, here in the Gulf, and once he had picked up messages
sent by the Tropical Radio Telegraph Company, from its station on the
Metropolitan tower in New York to its station in New Orleans.
On the second night out Roy sat at his post, listening in. Voices were
coming through the air from every direction. It was a wonderful night
for radio communication and Roy could hear farther than he had ever
heard before. Behind him he could distinguish both the Marconi stations
at Galveston and at Fort Crockett, farther up the island. The army post
at Brownsville was relaying a message from El Paso to the Panama Canal.
Roy wondered if it would carry successfully over that great stretch of
land and water. The Charleston Navy Yard was flinging out a call for
the destroyer _Mills_, and finally an answer came back from a point
near Key West. The _Mills_ was ordered to proceed to Guantanamo to
coal. The navy operator at Key West was talking to Havana. Behind him
Roy could hear the Mallory liner _Lampasas_ sending private messages
for passengers. The Ward liner _Morro Castle_ was talking somewhere
in the mist to the eastward. The Clyde liner _Cherokee_, off to the
southeast, was calling for her sister ship _Comanche_. Along the
South Atlantic coast regular processions of ships were moving in two
lines, some going north, others coming south, and all talking at once.
Distinctly Roy heard the call signals and answers of the Ward liner
_Monterey_, the Mallory liner _Comal_, the Standard Oil boat _Caloria_,
the Red D liner _Caracas_, the Savannah liners _City of Atlanta_ and
_City of Augusta_, and the _Florida_ of the Texas Company. He could
even hear, far to the north, the Old Dominion liner _Jamestown_, and
the Merritt-Chapman Wrecking Company’s _Rescue_.
But what most interested Roy was the nightly news-letter flung abroad
at the usual hour by the New York Marconi station. It was easily twelve
hundred miles away, yet Roy could hear every word distinctly. The
captain would be interested in this, and Roy picked up a pencil and
jotted down the night’s news: “Three-thousand-peasants-are-massacred-
by-Hungarian-Reds--stop--Soviet-guard-shoots-and-hangs-revolters-at-
Oldenburg--stop--Hungarian-Reds-beat-back-Czechs--stop--Pressburg-
threatened--stop--Wilson-may-sail-in-ten-days--stop--Premiers-near-
agreement--stop--Wilhelm-likely-to-escape-trial-envoys-think--stop--
Punishment-of-ex-Kaiser-is-dead-issue--stop--French-will-try-Cavell--
betrayer--stop--Hurley-asks-six-hundred-millions-to-finish-ships--
stop--Says-Burleson-makes-United-States-pay-for-strike--stop--
Telegraphers’-leader-says-people-must-stand-cost--stop--Victor-Berger-
says-chaos-ahead--stop--Prosecution-of-socialists-will-bring-direct-
action--stop--Britain-stirred-by-rumors-of-modified-peace--stop--
Nicaraguans-ask-United-States-to-send-troops-to-prevent-threatened-
invasion-from-Costa-Rica-by-army-now-massed-on-border--stop--First-
state-will-ratify-national-suffrage-amendment-this-week--stop.” Then
came the stock-market report and the baseball scores.
Roy took down every word. Hardly had he finished writing when a sound
struck his ears that momentarily stopped his heart.
“SOS,” came the signal, clear and distinct. “SOS, SOS.” It was the
international signal of distress.
Other ears than Roy’s caught the cry for help and in a second a hundred
operators were fairly yelling encouragement through the air.
“Who are you? Where are you? Give us your location? What is the matter?”
It was a ship Roy did not know. She lay well out in the Atlantic, and
not in the usual steamship lanes. She had broken her shaft and was
wallowing helplessly, unable to make repairs. The barometer was going
down and she wanted to be helped to port. The nearest ships were those
in the west-bound lanes for transatlantic liners. Presently Roy heard
the navy station at Arlington asking a west-bound liner to go to the
ship’s assistance.
Just as Roy was about to lay aside his receivers for the night he heard
the _Lycoming’s_ call, clear as a bell. It was Reynolds, the wireless
man he had met in Galveston. Reynolds’ ship was off Jacksonville. He
reported the weather as threatening and the sea rising, with a storm
coming from the north.
“Where are you?” asked Reynolds.
“In the Florida Straits,” replied Roy.
“You’ll catch it sometime to-morrow probably,” flashed back Reynolds.
“Good luck to you. Look me up when you reach New York. Good-night.”
It was now quite late. Unless the captain was on watch, he was
doubtless asleep. Roy was in doubt as to what he should do, but finally
decided to take the news to the officer in charge. He was the proper
official to know about the approaching storm. Roy copied down his
weather-report and the night’s news-letter, and made a note of the SOS
call and the communication from Reynolds. Then he sought the bridge.
Mr. Young was in charge, the captain having retired for the night.
“Thank you, Mr. Mercer,” he said, as Roy gave him the despatches.
Then, glancing them over, he went on, “So it’s getting rough off
Jacksonville, eh? I knew we were heading into a storm. The barometer
has been falling steadily. It probably won’t be anything more than a
gale at this season. We’ll be in it by noon and perhaps earlier. I am
glad to know about it, and I thank you for troubling to inform me.”
“It’s no trouble,” said Roy. “I should think every navigator would be
more than glad to have wireless service on his ship. Think of that
helpless liner out in the Atlantic with a storm coming up. Where would
she be if she couldn’t have summoned help? I can’t understand how
anybody can feel the way Captain Lansford does.”
“There are some things past understanding, Mr. Mercer. But perhaps
things may happen that will change the captain’s mind about wireless
telegraphy. Good-night.”
Roy went to his room and to bed, wondering if he would ever have the
chance suggested by Mr. Young, of changing the captain’s attitude
toward him and his work. He thought of the ship out on the ocean,
lying helpless in the path of the coming storm, and wondered if the
opportunity he longed for would come with that same storm. He was a
long time getting to sleep. Finally his eyelids closed, but before they
did Roy was dimly conscious that the ship was rolling more than she had
since he had been a member of her crew.