CHAPTER XIII

IN THE WIRELESS HOUSE

Fritz Ludwig, the tall, blond young man who earned his eighty marks per

month as wireless man on the _Ottilie_, having eaten his dinner with the

passengers of the second-cabin and smoked a meditative pipe at the door

of the little coop on the after boat-deck which served him as office and

bedroom, knocked out the ashes and entered his citadel to prepare for

the night's business. But first he connected up his detector and snapped

the receivers against his ears, just to see what might be going on. The

operator on the _Adriatic_, a hundred miles behind them, was gossiping

with Poldhu, and far ahead two boats were exchanging information about

the weather. Then Ludwig glanced up quickly, for a step had sounded at

the door, and he saw a man just stepping over the threshold.

"No admittance here!" he called sharply; but the man advanced another

step, smiling broadly.

"My dear Fritz!" he said in German. "Do you not know me?"

And Fritz, staring upwards, and seeing his visitor's face clearly, tore

off the receivers, sprang to his feet and saluted.

"Admiral Pachmann!" he gasped.

Pachmann laughed. Then he turned, closed the door, and drew the shade

before the window.

"Yes, it is I; but don't shout it so loudly, Fritz. Let us sit down. I

saw you at dinner to-night--yes, I, too, am of the second class!--and I

trembled lest you might recognise me and shout my name out in just that

fashion. So, as soon as I could, I hastened up to warn you. I am

travelling incognito upon official business, and in public you are not

to know me."

"I understand, Herr Admiral," said Fritz. "I shall be most careful."

"It is most important," Pachmann warned him; "and I shall trust you not

to forget. How do you like your work here?"

"Very well, sir. I find it very interesting."

"I shall have you back in the service, nevertheless, one of these days,"

Pachmann said. "Perhaps sooner than you think," he added.

"I am always ready, sir," said Fritz.

Pachmann drew out a cigar and lighted it.

"Go ahead with your work," he said. "There is no music to me so pleasant

as the snapping of the spark."

Fritz laughed.

"I know that, sir," he said. "I have an extra receiver, if you care to

put it on."

"Yes, give it to me," said the Admiral; and in a moment it, too, was

connected with the detector.

Fritz replaced his own, started his converter and snapped out into the

air the signal which told the waiting world that the operator of the

_Ottilie_ was ready to receive anything it might have to communicate.

Almost at once Southampton answered, and there was a little preliminary

tuning, till the signals came clear and strong. Then Fritz drew a pad

toward him, picked up a freshly sharpened pencil, and told Southampton

to go ahead.

"SN three fr DKA," began Southampton. "Time 9:50 G."

Which meant that Southampton had for the _Prinzsessin Ottilie_ three

messages and that the time was 9:50 o'clock Greenwich.

Fritz glanced at the clock above his desk.

"Time OK. GA," he signalled, the "GA" being radio for "Go ahead."

"MSG one," went on Southampton. "Eight w Gary. DKA. Directors have

command of situation. Morrissy.

"MSG two. Nine w Gardenshire, DKA. Missed boat will follow by

_Carmania_. Hickle.

"MSG three. Eleven w Hodges, DKA. Coffee will go thirteen Thursday shall

I sell. Perkins."

Fritz had taken it all down with religious care. At the last word he

snapped open his key.

"OK. Thanks GN," he ticked off, the "GN" being, of course, "good-night."

He waited a moment, but there were no other calls for the _Ottilie_, and

he took off his receiver. Pachmann followed suit.

"That was a great pleasure," said the latter. "The signals are very

clear to-night."

"If you could come in later on, sir," Fritz suggested, "you could hear

the news service from Poldhu. There is a station for you!"

"At what hour does the service start?" asked Pachmann.

"Poldhu always calls at eleven-thirty, sir, and starts the news service

as soon as the commercial business is out of the way."

"I shall try to be here," said Pachmann. "This long-distance service is

a great delight to me, especially when it works so clearly as it does

to-night. You will not forget about my incognito?"

"I shall not forget, sir," Fritz assured him, and with a short nod,

Pachmann left the house. Fritz sat down again to copy out his messages

and to send three or four which the captain's steward at that moment

brought in. That done, he thrust his head out for a breath of air,

noticed with a grin the couples who had already discovered the

advantages of the boat-deck benches, and then went back to his key for

a little gossip with such other Marconi men as might be within reach. It

was nearly eleven-thirty, and all of them were sitting at their tables,

waiting for the far-flung signal which would tell that the operator at

Poldhu, that lonely station on the last sheer cliff of Cornwall, was

ready for his night's work. And a minute later, the door opened and

Pachmann came in.

"I could not resist your invitation, Fritz," he said. "This gets into

one's blood," and he adjusted the extra receiver and sat down.

Almost at once came the CQ, CQ, CQ, ZZ, ZZ, ZZ, which told that Poldhu

was calling for all stations and on every ship within a thousand miles

of that point of rock, the wireless man tuned up his instrument, and

waited. The commercial messages came first, and there were a lot of

them; four for the _Ottilie_, three for the _Adriatic_, five to be

relayed far ahead to the _Mauretania_, one for the incoming _Majestic_,

and one for the _Rotterdam_. Then the Poldhu man announced that he was

ready to receive, and as many more were sent out into the night to him,

for relay on to London, and from there to far-separated points on the

continent. At last there was a moment's pause, a moment's silence, and

then the SP, SP, SP, which told that the news service was about to

start. And every man within hearing picked up a fresh pencil and made

ready to write, as from dictation.

"SP, SP, SP," snapped Poldhu. "Time 12:54 G. Three hundred wds.

"War between Italy and Turkey seems inevitable stop Italy gives Turkey

twenty-four hours to agree to Italy's occupation of Tripoli stop Six

thousand troops at Palermo ready to embark stop Turkish munitions and

reinforcements already landed stop Board of Inquiry into _La Liberte_

disaster goes into secret session stop Rumour of attempt to destroy _La

Patrie_ also stop Moroccan situation grows more serious stop Germany

demands equal rights with France abrogating Algeciras treaty stop

Directors steel trust declare company is legal corporation and will not

take voluntary steps to dissolve stop Officially announced at Chicago

that one hundred thousand men on Harriman lines will strike Saturday

stop September coffee sells at twelve-ninety-eight New York exchange

record price stop Boy Scouts called out to fight plague of wasps in

England stop...."

And so on to the end of the message. And when the end was reached, the

man at Poldhu waited fifteen minutes and then started all over again and

sent the message a second time, so that every one would be sure to get

it all. Then he shut off and went to bed.

Thursday dawned clear and warm, and the _Ottilie's_ passengers,

appearing on deck by twos and threes, rejoiced that the day was to be a

fine one. They found the world-news of the day before awaiting them on

the bulletin board at the head of the main companion-way, and had great

fun deciphering it, very few of them stopping to think how wonderful it

was that it should be there at all. And then some of them celebrated

their first morning at sea by a three-mile tramp before breakfast;

others, less strenuous, lounged at the rail, waiting impatiently for the

breakfast-gong; a few, finding themselves disturbed by the slow and even

motion of the ship, bundled themselves up in their steamer-chairs and

hoped that nature would soon readjust itself. Then the gong sounded, and

the deck was deserted, except by the bundled-up occupants of the chairs,

to whom the solicitous deck-steward brought, more or less vainly,

various light articles of food.

An hour later, the decks were full again. From the upper deck came the

clack of shuffle-board; on the promenade deck the chairs were full of

novel-readers, and little groups here and there were making each other's

acquaintance. The life of shipboard had begun.

On the boat-deck, various passengers, singly or in twos and threes,

paused to listen to the crackle of electricity which came from the

little wireless-house. The door was closed, but by standing on tiptoe

they could see over the screen at the window, and catch a glimpse of a

blond young man, with a receiver clamped over both ears, bending above

his key, from which came a series of vicious-looking sparks. The sound

was vaguely disquieting, suggesting lightning to the more timid, or some

strange and dangerous force of nature not to be trifled with, so most of

them preferred to descend again to the upper promenade, or to sit down

some distance away. Presently two men climbed the ladder from the deck

below, and looked about them.

"Let us sit here," said the younger of them, in German, and motioned

toward a bench which had been built against the cabin.

"Very well, Your...." He stopped himself abruptly. "It is difficult to

break oneself of a long habit," he said, with a little laugh; and,

waiting for the other to seat himself, sat down beside him.

They lighted cigarettes and sat for a moment without speaking.

There was a considerable difference in the ages of the two. One was past

middle-age, heavily-built, and with a face bronzed as only years of

exposure to wind and rain could bronze it. His upper lip was a shade or

two lighter than the rest of his face, and spoke of a moustache recently

removed. The other man had also an outdoor look, but he had not been

hardened by long service as his companion had. He was softer, more

effeminate. He seemed to be not over twenty-one or two, was tall, a

little too much inclined to plumpness, but with an open and ingenuous

countenance, lighted by a pair of honest blue eyes.

"It is good," said the older man, at last, speaking in German and in a

tone carefully guarded, "to sit here and listen to the crackle of the

wireless--it seems to fit in, somehow, with this beautiful morning. I

have grown to love it; and I have never conquered my wonder--it is so

marvellous that one can throw into the atmosphere a message to be picked

up and understood hundreds of miles away. It seems even more wonderful

on the ocean than on the land. A message that travels as fast as light

travels. Think of it, my Prince!"

"It is, indeed, wonderful," the younger man agreed. "But it seems to me,

my dear Admiral, that, if what you tell me is true, there is in the

world at this moment something more wonderful still--a force which even

you do not understand."

"You are right," agreed the older man, gravely. "But we _must_

understand it--we _must_ control it. It means world-empire!"

Both their faces were set and serious, and they spoke almost in

whispers, with a glance from time to time to make sure no one was near,

or a lapse into silence when any one approached.

"If we succeed," the younger man began; but the other grasped him by the

arm.

"There must be no 'if,'" he protested. "Do not permit yourself to use

that word. There must be no failure! Think, for a moment, of the

tremendous issues which hang upon it! And, after all, the game is in our

hands."

"I have not yet met the inventor," said the younger man; "but from what

you have told me, I fear he is an enthusiast who will make difficulties.

However, as you say, we must succeed at any price."

"Yes; at any price!" and as he uttered the words, the Admiral glanced

searchingly at his companion's face. But the other was gazing out across

the water, and did not seem to notice the other's peculiar emphasis.

Again they sat silent as three or four persons, passing, paused to peer

in at the window of the wireless-house.

"Are you sure the French do not suspect?" asked the younger man, when

they had gone.

"How could they?"

"The inventor must have left some trace--that wireless station in the

grove."

"A small affair, well hidden. Even if it is discovered, it cannot

possibly be connected with the disaster."

"Perhaps not. But the other installation?"

"The other installation was brought away by the inventor. He left

nothing behind except some batteries, which can betray no secret."

"And he has the mechanism with him now?"

"Yes--in his baggage. You see how complete our power is."

"I see," nodded the other briefly. "You have arranged a conference with

him?"

"I will do so. There is plenty of time."

"Why do we go to America?"

"It is a whim of his--that this great treaty should be signed there. We

had to humour him, or he might have grown suspicious. I think he is a

little mad."

Again there was a moment's silence. Then the older man threw away his

cigarette and rose.

"The wireless man is an old protege of mine," he said. "I spent a very

pleasant hour with him last night. If you do not object, I will go in

again to see him."

The other nodded, and Pachmann opened the door of the wireless-house and

disappeared inside. His companion lighted another cigarette and smoked

it gloomily, as his thoughts reverted to his own affairs. It was

flattering, of course, that he should have been selected to accompany

Pachmann on this mission; but, nevertheless, he regretted Berlin--or,

rather, he regretted a certain blue-eyed, flaxen-haired girl, with a

figure like Juno's.... Confound it! It was only to separate him from her

that he had been sent with Pachmann! Why couldn't his father leave him

alone! He was old enough to manage his own affairs! And besides....

The door of the wireless-house opened and Pachmann appeared. Very

quietly he closed the door, very quietly he sat down beside his

companion. And then he mopped a shining forehead with a hand that

trembled visibly, and the younger man saw with astonishment that his

face was livid.

"What is it? What has happened?" he asked.

Pachmann tried twice before he found his voice. When he did speak, it

was in a hoarse whisper.

"I was wrong," he said. "France _does_ suspect!"

The Destroyer: A Tale of International Intrigue · 第 13 / 32 章