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Transcriber’s note:
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An additional transcriber’s note is at the end.
JACK STRAW, LIGHTHOUSE BUILDER
[Illustration: “Jack and Big O’Brien were the first to ride down to the
lighthouse site on the aerial cable.”]
JACK STRAW, LIGHTHOUSE BUILDER
by
IRVING CRUMP
Author of “Jack Straw in Mexico,” etc.
Illustrations by Leslie Crump
[Illustration]
New York
Robert M. McBride & Company
1915
Copyright, 1915, by Robert M. McBride & Co.
Published October, 1915
To A Tom-Boy PEGGY
ACKNOWLEDGMENT
In presenting this account of Jack Straw’s latest adventures it has
been my good fortune to have the friendly advice of Dr. Raymond
Haskell, Superintendent of the Third Light House District, and William
H. Moon of the Lighthouse Service. I have also sought for assistance
the pages of Commissioner George R. Putnam’s “Beacons of the Sea,”
Talbot’s “Light Ships and Lighthouses” and the “Lighthouse Service
Bulletin.”
J. I. C.
East Orange,
September, 1915.
CONTENTS
CHAPTER PAGE
I JACK RECEIVES A TELEGRAM 1
II “HOOD ISLAND--HO!” 13
III THE RUNAWAY 32
IV BIG O’BRIEN GETS HIS BICEPS INTO ACTION 48
V MEN OF HONOR 64
VI WINNING THE ROCK 89
VII UNDER ARREST 107
VIII LOBSTER PIRATES 127
IX THE RAID 145
X THE CHASE 164
XI RAY’S FIND 188
XII THE REEF’S TOLL 214
XIII THE NEW FULL-BACK 232
THE ILLUSTRATIONS
“Jack and Big O’Brien were the first to ride down to
the Lighthouse site on the aërial cable.”
_Frontispiece_
FACING PAGE
“The fight ended there” 60
“Hit’s a close race, me ‘arties, fer ‘e’s comin’ fast” 184
“The finest flapjacks that ever were cooked” 214
DIAGRAM
Sketch of Hood Island and Cobra Reef 66
* * * * *
JACK STRAW, LIGHTHOUSE BUILDER
* * * * *
JACK STRAW, LIGHTHOUSE BUILDER
CHAPTER I JACK RECEIVES A TELEGRAM
Jack Straw was walking slowly down the maple-lined avenue that led
from the campus to Phillip’s Hall, the largest of the two dormitory
buildings connected with Drueryville Academy, and judging from his many
near collisions with the aforesaid maples, not to mention hitching
posts, stepping blocks and pedestrians, it was evident that he was not
looking where he was going. Indeed his nose was buried in the latest
and final edition of _The Blue and White_, the school’s weekly, and
he was devouring the contents of the page headed “Track and Field”
eagerly. The various individual and team records for the year were set
forth there in black-face type, and Jack, having been captain of the
football team the previous Fall and no mean performer on the school’s
track team during the Spring, was rather keen to learn just how many
times his name was mentioned on that particular page.
But before he had consumed a quarter of the reading matter, a _real_
collision resulted. He was just about to turn the northwest corner
of Phillip’s Hall when there was a scurry of feet, and before he
could look up some one hurrying at top speed swept around the corner.
Instantly the air was full of arms and legs, the copy of _The Blue
and White_ accompanied by several school books, went speeding down
the graveled path and a moment later Jack found himself seated on the
ground and feeling for the exact spot on the back of his head where the
west wall of the dormitory building had hit him. Six feet away sat tiny
Tommy Todd, also feeling for injured places and trying at the same time
to regain his breath.
“Jiminy--puff--puff--crickets, what’er you gettin’ into a
fellow’s--puff--puff--way like that for, Jack?” demanded Tommy.
“Well, how on earth-- Say, why don’t you blow your horn when you are
making a corner at top speed? I didn’t know you were coming,” returned
Jack, scrutinizing the brick wall for dents. “Jiminy, I think if I had
hit just a little harder, Phillip’s Hall would be minus a few bricks.”
“Huh, that’s nothing to the amount of gravel I’ll be carrying round
with me for the rest of my life. Bet there is a peck of it jammed into
my head,” returned Tommy, rubbing his head solicitously.
“Well, why the hurry, anyway, Tommy?” asked Jack, as they stood up and
began to brush themselves off.
“Why, I was looking for you, Jack--I--”
“Found me quicker than you expected, didn’t you?”
“Yes and no; that is, when I discovered you weren’t in your room I
decided you might bob up most any place--and you did--”
“Well, what’s wanted of me in such a hurry?” demanded Jack.
“What is wanted? Oh, nothing, only there are about a half dozen fellows
over in your room waiting for you. Did you forget that there was a
special meeting of the ‘D’ Club called for this afternoon? The meeting
is in your room at three o’clock, you know.”
“No, I hadn’t forgotten only--say, it isn’t three o’clock yet, is it?”
asked Jack, somewhat surprised.
“Oh, isn’t it?” demanded Tommy, as he exhibited his watch.
“Jingo-netties, it’s half-past three. I was so interested in _The Blue
and White_ that I forgot to hurry. Come on back, Tommy, and we’ll have
the meeting started immediately,” said Jack, and seizing the diminutive
catcher of the baseball team by the arm, he hurried him at top speed
back toward the broad entrance of Phillip’s Hall.
Seven members of the “D” Club, the organization composed of honor boys
at Drueryville Academy, were occupying Jack’s room when he pushed open
the door.
“Well, good evenin’, sir; did you call to tea?” demanded Harvey Maston
sarcastically as Jack entered.
“Why didn’t you keep us waiting until midnight?” called Cory, as he put
down the book he had been reading.
“What’s the matter--fall asleep in the physics lab?” demanded Buck
Miles.
“No, fellows, I plum forgot what time it--Hi, quit.”
“O-o-o-o-o-h, forgot,” roared every boy, and a moment later Jack was
busy ducking sofa pillows that were being hurled in his direction.
“Well, now that you have subsided,” said Jack when the lads were out of
ammunition, “the meeting will come to order.” He rapped on the top of
the center table with his knuckles for lack of a gavel and assumed an
air of dignity befitting the president of the school’s most important
society.
“As I understand it,” he said, “this is to be a special meeting for a
general summing up of the athletic situation at Drueryville next year.
Am I right?”
“Right-o,” said Tommy Todd.
“Well, gentlemen, we will proceed. First, the baseball situation claims
our attention. Tommy, how are things going to shape up next year with
your outfit?”
“The outlook never was better,” said Tommy, cheerily. “Out of the nine
regulars on this year’s team, only two will be graduated and they are
both outfielders. I’ve men in the substitute squad that will take their
places all right.”
“Fine,” said Jack. “How about the track team, Harvey?”
“Well, I’m not complaining,” said the captain of the cinder athletes.
“The outlook could be better. Graduation isn’t going to knock a hole
into my list of runners, but I do wish that the freshmen who come
in next Fall would include a couple of good sprinters. We need a
good point winner for the dashes. Also we need a shot putter. Hanson
goes out this year, as you know. He’s been our only hope in the
weight events for two years now. Wish I could find another 170-pound
sixteen-year-old like him.”
“Huh, if he knocks a hole into your prospects, think how he cripples
me up,” said Jack, who had been reelected to captain the football team
next year. “He’s been the only full-back Drueryville has had in years.
I don’t know where I’m going to get a man like him. There isn’t a
fellow in the scrub squad that can play in the full-back position and
not stumble over his own feet. The freshmen will surely have to show
up mighty well in big boys to make me feel happy next year.”
“Jiminy, that does put a kink into your eleven, doesn’t it?” exclaimed
Tommy Todd.
“‘A kink?’ Why, man, it ties a regular knot into our chances for the
championship trophy, let me tell you. We’ll never be able to make it
three in a row with Seaton without another Hanson in the line-up,”
insisted Jack.
“Aw, cheer up. Don’t be so down in the mouth about it. Perhaps we can
find one for you this Summer. I’ll look for one among the stone cutters
down Bethel way, when I take my job in the granite quarries this
vacation,” said Cory, who was eager to have the meeting over with so
that he could resume the book he had been reading.
“Huh, you needn’t bother,” said Jack; “the full-back you’d pick out
would come onto the field with a fiction book under his arm. Well,
Dink, how’s the hockey team going to shape up?”
“Oh, we’ll be there with an A1 team next year. Every man in the
line-up. Pretty good, eh?”
“Well, I’m in the same shape. The basketball team will be composed of
four of this year’s regulars and Wefers, who played substitute forward
all this year. I’m not worrying,” said Cory gruffly, without even
looking up from his book.
“That leaves me the only captain in want of a good man, doesn’t it?”
said Jack. “Well, you fellows take Cory’s suggestion and keep your eyes
open during the Summer for a likely full-back for me, will you?”
“You bet we will. I’m going to spend my Summer working in a hotel over
in the Green Mountains. I may run into a good man there, you can’t
tell,” said Chris Gibson.
“That reminds me, Tommy,” said Harvey Maston. “Did you accept that job
with the contractor? You said you were going to work all Summer on the
new hydro-electric plant over in New York State.”
“Yes, I go over there the first of July for two months. What are you
going to do, Harvey?”
“Going to work for my father in his paper mill. There’s room for
another fellow over there. How about you, Jack? Got a Summer job yet?”
“No,” confessed Jack, “I haven’t. I thought perhaps I might help out
father in his marble quarries. But I guess he won’t be ready to open
’em up for three or four months.”
“Well, why not come over to Bordentown and work in the paper mills?
We could have a corking time together and you would learn a lot about
paper manufacturing. Of course if you can get a chance to go to Mexico
again, or something as interesting as that, I wouldn’t advise you to
accept my offer. A paper mill isn’t as lively as a power plant besieged
by rebels, but then a job is a job, you know.”
“Well, perhaps I might accept your offer, Harvey. I’ll think it over.
You see, I--”
“Mis-ter John-n-n Monroe-e-e Strawbridge! Strawbridge!” shouted some
one down in the street.
Jack’s head bobbed out of the open window immediately.
“Here. Right here,” he called.
“Tele-_gum_ fer Mis-_ter_ Straw-_bridge_,” came the sing-song answer.
“Telegram!” exclaimed Jack. Then he shouted, “All right, bring it up!
Third floor, Room Thirty-two.”
“Huh, what’s this? Some more mystery?” demanded Tommy Todd as Jack left
the window.
“You know as much about it as I do,” said Jack, somewhat disturbed.
A moment later the lazy tread of the messenger boy could be heard on
the creaking stairs. Then came a knock.
“Come in,” shouted Jack and the door was pushed open to admit a blue
clad messenger of diminutive proportions, whose hat was cocked at a
rakish angle on his head.
“Day letter. Sign on dis line here,” he said laconically, as he handed
Jack the stub of a much-used pencil.
Jack signed hastily and the youth scuffled out into the hall,
forgetting entirely to close the door. But the captain of the football
team did not notice this. With trembling fingers he was tearing the end
off the yellow envelope, while the rest of the boys looked on in wonder.
* * * * *
As Jack unfolded the telegraph blank his face took on an expression of
great concern. But as he began to read, this expression changed to a
smile of delight. Finally after he had finished, he exclaimed,
“Hi, fellows, listen to this. Talk about luck. Guess I won’t accept
your offer for a job in the paper mill, Harvey. I have one that is
almost as good as a trip to Mexico. Here, I’ll read all about it.”
Dear Jack:
On our way up from Mexico last Summer I told you of certain work
that I expected to do for the Lighthouse Bureau. Part of that work
is now to be undertaken. I am to build a lighthouse on Cobra Reef,
Hood Island, Maine. I know that you are interested in engineering
and therefore I am holding open a job as clerk in the building crew.
If you want the position wire me at once and report at Jefferson
Hotel, Portland, Maine, on Tuesday afternoon. This will make a Summer
vacation position in which you can earn a little money and learn a
great deal about marine engineering. If you haven’t anything better
to do be sure and come along.
Yours truly,
JAMES WARNER,
Lighthouse Bureau, Washington, D. C.
“If I haven’t anything better to do,” jeered Jack. “Huh, could there
_be_ anything better to do?”
“Talk about downright good luck,” said Harvey Maston.
“When do you start? Next Tuesday. Eh! Three days from now.”
“That’s going to be quick work. I’ll have to get Dr. Moorland to excuse
me several days before school is officially closed for the Summer, but
I haven’t any more exams to keep me here. I guess I’ll go over and see
him now. I may leave first thing to-morrow morning if Dr. Moorland will
let me off. I would like to spend a day or two with my dad and talk the
matter over with him.”
And taking his hat, Jack left Phillip’s Hall for a hasty visit to the
principal’s cottage in the maple grove across the campus.