A STRANGE QUEST.
Readers of earlier volumes of this series will recall Tom Jukes, who,
after being cast away when his father's yacht burned at sea, was found
by Jack's clever wireless work. This was the youth,--he was about Jack's
own age,--whom the wireless boy had been commissioned to find. Although
the task appeared, as Jack had said, one almost impossible of
accomplishment, still Jack was boy enough to be delighted at the
prospect of traversing war-ridden Europe and possibly playing a part in
the mightiest struggle of all time. As for Bill Raynor, he was wild with
excitement at the idea. Uncle Toby Ready, when he was told of the
intended trip, shook his head and muttered something about "playing with
fire," but he was eventually won over and presented Jack with a dozen
bottles of the Golden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man and
Beast.
"If so be as you meet up with the Kaiser, or the King of England, or the
Czar, just give 'em a bottle with my compliments," he said in bestowing
the gift. "By the flying jib, it might be the means of building me up a
big European trade. Think of it, Cap'n Toby Ready, P. O. H. R.
H.--Physician in Ordinary to His Royal Highness. If you don't run acrost
any of them skippers of state you can just distribute it around careless
like, and draw special attention to the directions and to my address in
case the prescription should require to be refilled."
Jack promised, but it is to be feared that the Golden Embrocation never
got nearer Europe than the cabin of the square rigger _Jane Harding_, of
Halifax, Nova Scotia, which happened to be in the Erie Basin unloading
lumber. Captain Podsnap, of the _Jane Harding_, was an ardent admirer
of, and believer in, Captain Toby's concoctions which, as the compounder
boasted, never were known to do harm even where they didn't do good. To
Captain Podsnap, therefore, Jack hied himself perfidiously and made over
to him the gifts intended for ailing royalty.
The _St. Mark_ was what is known as a "popular" ship. That is, she
usually crossed with full cabins. But on the present trip there were a
bare score of passengers in the first cabin, not many more in the
second, while in the steerage were a couple of hundred travelers, mostly
reservists of the various countries at war, returning to Europe to take
up arms.
As they steamed down the harbor, the docks on each side of the river
could be observed to be crowded with idle steamers of all sizes, from
small freighters to huge four-funnelled liners. With smokeless stacks
and empty decks, they lay moored to their piers, offering an eloquent
testimonial to the almost complete paralysis of ocean traffic that
marked the earlier days of the war. Off Tompkinsville, Staten Island,
the dreadnought, _Florida_, swung at anchor, grim in her gray war
paint,--Uncle Sam's guardian of neutrality. It was her duty to keep
watch and ward over the port to see that no contraband went out of the
harbor on the ships flying the flags of combatting nations and in other
ways to enforce President Wilson's policy of "hands off."
With dipping ensign, the _St. Mark_ slipped by, after a brief scrutiny
by a brisk young officer. Then, down the bay she steamed, which the boys
had traversed only a few days before on the hunted _Kronprinzessin_.
"Well, Jack, old fellow," observed Raynor, as Jack leaned back after
sending a few routine messages of farewell and business of the ship,
"off again on our travels."
"Yes, and this time, thank goodness, we're under Uncle Sam's flag, and
that means a whole lot in these days."
"It does, indeed," agreed the other fervently, "but have you any idea
what port we are bound for?"
"Not as yet. We are to get instructions by wireless, either from the New
York or London offices."
"This a queer job we've embarked on, Jack," resumed Raynor, after a
pause in which Jack had "picked up" _Nantucket_ and exchanged greetings.
"It is indeed. I only hope we can carry it through successfully. At any
rate, it will give us an opportunity to see something of the war for
ourselves."
"It's a great chance, but as to finding Tom Jukes, I must say I agree
with you that a needle in a hay stack isn't one, two, three with it."
A heavily built man, dark bearded and mustached, entered the wireless
cabin. He had a despatch ready written in his hand.
"Send this as soon as possible, please," he said, handing it to Jack.
As his eyes met those of the young wireless man he gave a perceptible
start which, however, was unnoticed by either of the boys. Raynor was
paying no particular attention to the matter in hand and Jack was
knitting his brows over the despatch. It was in code, to an address in
New York and was signed Martin Johnson.
"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson," said Jack, "but we can't handle this message."
"Can't? Why not?" demanded the passenger indignantly.
"Because it is in code."
"What's that got to do with it?"
"While the war lasts we have instructions not to handle code messages or
any despatches that are not expressed in English that is perfectly
plain."
"That's preposterous," sputtered the passenger angrily. "This is a
message on a business matter I tell you."
"If you'll write it out in English, I'll transmit it," said Jack;
"that's what I'm here for."
The man suddenly leaped forward. He thrust a hand in his pocket and
pulled out a roll of bills.
"Can I speak to you confidentially?" he asked, turning his eyes on
Raynor.
"Anything you've got to say you can say before my friend," said Jack.
"Then, see here--there's a hundred dollars in that roll," as he threw it
on the desk, "forget that code rule a while and it's yours."
"Look here, Mr. Johnson," said Jack coldly, "I've already told you what
my orders are. As for your money, if it was a million it would be just
the same to me."
"Bah! You are a fool," snapped the other, angrily snatching up the money
and flinging out of the cabin, crumpling the code message in his hand.
"That infernal boy again," he muttered, as he gained the deck outside.
"This only makes another score I have to settle with him. These
Americans, they are all fools. Well, Von Gottberg in New York will have
to go without information, that's all, if I can't find some way of
getting at the wireless."
"Say, Jack," asked Raynor, as the bearded man left the cabin, "did that
fellow remind you of anybody?"
"Who, Johnson?" asked Jack idly. "Why yes, now that you come to mention
it, there was something familiar about his voice and his eyes, but for
the life of me I couldn't place him."
"Nor I, and yet I've a strong feeling that we've met him somewhere
before."
"Johnsons are as thick as blackberries," commented Jack.
"Yes, but I don't connect that name with this man. It was some other
name altogether. Oh, well, what's the use of trying to recall
it--anyhow, Mr. Johnson, whoever he is, hasn't got a very amiable
temper. I thought he was going to swell up and bust when you refused
that message."
But further comment on the irate passenger was cut short at that moment
by a beating of dots and dashes against Jack's ears, to which one of the
"receivers" was adjusted. He hastily slipped the other into place and
then turned to Raynor with a grin.
"It's our old friend, the _Berwick_," he said. "She's outside waiting
for us, but this time, glory be, we're flying Old Glory."