AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
The "Fearless" was a smart, staunch ship of about three thousand
tons--one of a numerous fleet owned by the line of which Mr. Quinby
was the manager. She had been built with special reference to the
China trade, and was designed chiefly for cargoes, although she had
accommodations for a considerable number of passengers. She was equipped
with the latest type of modern screw engines, and although she did not
run on a fixed schedule, could be counted on, almost as certainly as a
regular liner, to make her port at the time appointed. Everything about
the steamer was seamanlike and shipshape, and the boys were most
favorably impressed, as, under the guidance of Captain Manning, they
made their way forward. Here they were introduced to the first and
second officers, and then shown to the quarters they were to occupy
during the voyage.
Like everything else about the ship, these were trim and comfortable, and
the boys were delighted to find that they had been assigned adjoining
rooms. By the time they had washed and changed their clothes, it was time
for supper, and to this they did ample justice. They were valiant
trenchermen, and even the narrow escape of the afternoon had not robbed
them of their appetites.
"You'd better eat while you can, fellows," laughed Bert. "We sail
to-morrow, and twenty-four hours from now, you may be thinking so little
of food that you'll be giving it all to the fishes."
"Don't you worry," retorted Dick, "I've trolled for bluefish off the
Long Island coast in half a gale, and never been seasick yet."
"Yes," said Bert, "but scudding along in a catboat is a different thing
from rising and falling on the long ocean swells. We haven't any
swinging cabins here to keep things always level, and the ship isn't
long enough to cut through three waves at once like the big Atlantic
liners."
"Well," said Tom, "if we do have to pay tribute to Neptune, I hope we
won't be so badly off as the poor fellow who, the first hour, was afraid
he was going to die, and, the second hour, was afraid he couldn't die."
"Don't fret about dying, boys," put in the ship's doctor, a jolly little
man, with a paunch that denoted a love of good living; "You fellows are
so lucky that they couldn't kill you with an axe. Though that knife did
come pretty near doing the trick, didn't it? 'The sweet little cherub
that sits up aloft, looking after the life of poor Jack,' was certainly
working overtime, when that Malay went for you to-day."
"Yes," returned Dick, "but he slipped a cog in not looking after the
poor fellow that brute wounded first. By the way, doctor, how is he?
Will he live?"
"O, he'll pull through all right," answered the doctor. "I gave his
wound the first rough dressing before the ambulance took him away.
Luckily, the blade missed any of the vital organs, and a couple of
months in the hospital will bring him around all right. That is, unless
the knife was poisoned. These beggars sometimes do this, in order to
make assurance doubly sure. I picked up the knife as it lay on the pier,
and will turn it over to the authorities to-morrow. They'll have to use
it in evidence, when the case comes up for trial."
He reached into his breast pocket as he spoke and brought out the
murderous weapon. The boys shuddered as they looked at it and realized
how near they had come to being its victims. They handled it gingerly as
they passed it around, being very careful to avoid even a scratch, in
view of what the doctor had said about the possibility of it being
poisoned.
It was nearly a foot in length, with a massive handle that gave it a
secure grip as well as additional force behind the stroke. The hilt was
engraved with curious characters, probably an invocation to one of the
malignant gods to whom it was consecrated. The blade was broad, with the
edge of a razor and the point of a needle. But what gave it a peculiarly
deadly and sinister significance was the wavy, crooked lines followed by
the steel, and which indicated the hideous wounds it was capable of
inflicting.
"Nice little toy, isn't it?" asked the doctor.
"It certainly is," replied Bert. "A bowie knife is innocent, compared
with this."
"What on earth is it," asked Dick, "that makes these fellows so crazy to
kill those that have never done them an injury and that they have never
even seen? I can understand how the desire for revenge may prompt a man
to go to such lengths to get even with an enemy, but why they attack
every one without distinction is beyond me."
"Well," replied the doctor, "it's something with which reason has
nothing to do. The Malays are a bloodthirsty, merciless race. They brood
and sulk, until, like that old Roman emperor--Caligula, wasn't it?--they
wish that the human race had only one neck, so that they could sever it
with a single blow. They are sick of life and determine to end it all,
but before they go, all the pent up poison of hate that has been
fermenting in them finds expression in the desire to take as many as
possible with them. Then too, there may be some obscure religious idea
underneath it all, of offering to the gods as many victims as possible,
and thus winning favor for themselves. Or, like the savage despots of
Africa, who decree that when they are buried hundreds of their subjects
shall be slaughtered and buried in the same grave, they may feel that
their victims will have to serve them in the future world. Scientists
have never analyzed the matter satisfactorily."
"Well," said Dick, as they rose from the table, "one doesn't have to be
a scientist to know this much at least--that wherever a crazy Malay
happens to be, it's a mighty healthy thing to be somewhere else."
"I guess nobody aboard this steamer would be inclined to dispute that,"
laughed the doctor, as they separated and went on deck.
Although his duties did not begin until the following day, Bert was
eager beyond anything else to inspect the wireless equipment of the
ship, and went at once to the wireless room, followed by the others.
It was with immense satisfaction that he established that here he
had under his hand the very latest in wireless telegraphy. From the
spark key to the antennae, waving from the highest mast of the ship,
everything was of the most approved and up to date type. No matter how
skilful the workman, he is crippled by lack of proper tools; and Bert's
heart exulted as he realized that, in this respect, at least he had no
reason for complaint.
"It's a dandy plant, fellows," he gloated. "There aren't many Atlantic
liners have anything on this."
"How far can she talk, Bert?" asked Dick, examining the apparatus with
the keenest interest.
"That depends on the weather, very largely," answered Bert. "Under
almost any conditions she's good for five hundred miles, and when things
are just right, two or three times as far."
"What's the limit, anyway, Bert?" asked Tom. "How far have they been
able to send under the very best conditions?"
"I don't believe there is any real limit," answered Bert. "I haven't any
doubt that, before many years, they'll be able to talk half way round
the world. Puck, you know, in the 'Midsummer Night's Dream' boasted that
he would 'put a girdle round the earth in forty minutes.' Well, the
wireless will go him one better, and go round in less than forty
seconds. Why, only the other day at Washington, when the weather
conditions were just right, the officials there heard two stations
talking to each other, off the coast of Chili, six or seven thousand
miles away. Of course, ships will never talk at that distance, because
they can't get a high enough mast or tower to overcome the curvature of
the earth. But from land stations it is only a question of getting a
high enough tower. They can talk easily now from Berlin to Sayville,
Long Island, four thousand miles, by means of towers seven or eight
hundred feet high. The Eiffel Tower at Paris, because still higher, has
a longer range. It isn't so very long ago that they were glad enough to
talk across a little creek or canal, a few feet wide. Then they tried an
island, three or four miles away, then another, fourteen miles from the
mainland. By the time they had done that, they knew that they had the
right principle, and that it was only a matter of time before they'd
bind the ends of the earth together. It started as a creeping infant;
now, it's a giant, going round the world in its seven league boots."
"Hear hear," cried Dick, "how eloquent Bert is getting. He'll be
dropping into poetry next."
"Well," chipped in Tom, "there _is_ poetry sure enough in the crash of
the spark and its leap out into the dark over the tumbling waves from
one continent to another, but, to me, it's more like witchcraft. It's
lucky Marconi didn't live two or three hundred years ago. He'd surely
have been burned at the stake, for dabbling in black magic."
"Yes," rejoined Bert, "and Edison and Tesla would have kept him company.
But now clear out, you fellows, and let me play with this toy of mine. I
want to get next to all its quips and quirks and cranks and curves, and
I can't do it with you dubs talking of poets and witches. Skip, now,"
and he laughingly shooed them on deck.
Left to himself, he went carefully over every detail of the equipment.
Everything--detector, transmitter, tuning coil and all the other
parts--were subjected to the most minute and critical inspection,
and all stood the test royally. It was evident that no niggardly
consideration of expense had prevented the installation of the latest
and best materials. Bert's touch was almost caressing, as he handled the
various parts, and his heart thrilled with a certain sense of ownership.
There had been a wireless plant at one of the college buildings, and he
had become very expert in its use; but hundreds of others had used it,
too, and he was only one among many. Moreover, that plant had filled no
part in the great world of commerce or of life, except for purposes of
instruction. But this was the real thing, and from the time the steamer
left the wharf until, on its return, it again swung into moorings, he
would be in complete control. How many times along the invisible current
would he feel the pulsing of the world's heart; what messages of joy or
pain or peril would go from him or come to him, as he sat with his
finger on the key and the receiver at his ear! He stood on the threshold
of a new world, and it was a long time before he tore himself away, and
went to rejoin his friends on the upper deck.
A young man, whose figure had something familiar about it was pacing to
and fro. Bert cudgeled his memory. Of whom did it remind him? The young
man turned and their eyes met. There was a start of recognition.
"Why, this must be Bert Wilson," said the newcomer, extending his hand.
"Yes," replied Bert, grasping it warmly, "and you are Ralph Quinby or
his double."
"Quinby, sure enough," laughed Ralph, "and delighted to see you again.
But what on earth brings you here, three thousand miles from home?"
"I expect to be twelve thousand miles from home before I get through,"
answered Bert; and then he told him of his engagement as wireless
operator for the voyage.
"That's splendid," said Ralph, heartily. "We'll have no end of fun. I
was just feeling a bit down in the mouth, because I didn't know a soul
on board except the captain. You see, my father is manager of the line,
and he wanted me to take the trip, so that I could enlarge my experience
and be fit to step into his shoes when he gets ready to retire. So that,
in a way, it's a pleasure and business trip combined."
"Here are some other fellows you know," remarked Bert, as he beckoned to
Tom and Dick who came over from the rail.
They needed no introduction. A flood of memories swept over them as they
shook hands. They saw again the automobile race, when Ralph in the
"_Gray Ghost_" and Bert at the wheel of the "_Red Scout_" had struggled
for the mastery. Before their eyes rose the crowded stands; they heard
the deafening cheers and the roar of the exhausts; they saw again that
last desperate spurt, when, with the throttle wide open, the "Red Scout"
had challenged its gallant enemy in the stretch and flashed over the
line, a winner.
That Ralph remembered it too was evident from the merry twinkle in his
eyes, as he looked from one to the other of the group.
"You made me take your dust that day, all right," he said, "but I've
never felt sore over that for a minute. It was a fair and square race,
and the best car and the best driver won."
"Not on your life," interjected Bert, warmly. "The best car, perhaps,
but not the best driver. You got every ounce of speed out of your
machine that anyone could, and after all it was only a matter of inches
at the finish."
"Well, it was dandy sport, anyway, win or lose," returned Ralph. "By the
way, I have the 'Gray Ghost' with me now. It's crated up on the forward
deck, and will be put down in the hold to-morrow. So come along now, and
take a look at it."
There, sure enough, was the long, powerful, gray car, looking "fit
to run for a man's life," as Ralph declared, while he patted it
affectionately.
"I thought I'd bring it along," he said, "to use while we are in port at
our various stopping places. It will take a good many days to unload,
and then ship our return cargo, and, if the roads are good, we'll show
the natives some new wrinkles in the way of fancy driving. We're all of
us auto fiends, and I want you to feel that the car is as much yours as
mine, all through the trip. That is," he added, mischievously, "if you
fellows don't feel too haughty to ride in a car that you've already
beaten."
With jest and laughter, the time passed rapidly. The evening deepened,
and a hush fell over the waters of the bay. Lanterns twinkled here and
there like fireflies among the shipping, while from an occasional boat
rose the tinkling of a banjo or guitar. From the shore side came the
night sounds of the great city, sitting proudly on her many hills and
crowned with innumerable lights. Silence gathered over the little group,
as they gazed, and each was busy with his own thoughts. This loved land
of theirs--by this time to-morrow, it would be out of sight below the
horizon. Who knew when they would see it again, or through what perils
they might pass before they once more touched its shores? It was the
little shiver before the plunge, as they stood upon the brink of the
unknown; and they were a trifle more quiet than usual, when at last they
said good-night and sought forgetfulness in sleep.