Produced by Al Haines
[Illustration: Cover art]
[Frontispiece: THE LASCARS BUNDLED THE BODIES INTO THE LIFEBOAT. _Page_
52]
THE WIRELESS OFFICER
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "The Third Officer," "Sea Scouts All," &c. &c.
Illustrated by W. E. Wigfull
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW
1922
By Percy F. Westerman
The Bulldog Breed.
In Eastern Seas.
Standish Loses his Man.
Standish Gets his Man.
Cadet Alan Carr.
Under Fire in Spain.
Haunted Harbour.
His Unfinished Voyage.
Winged Might.
Captain Flick.
Tireless Wings.
His First Ship.
The Red Pirate.
The Call of the Sea.
Standish of the Air Police.
Sleuths of the Air.
Andy-All-Alone.
The Westow Talisman.
The White Arab.
The Buccaneers of Boya.
Rounding up the Raider.
Captain Fosdyke's Gold.
In Defiance of the Ban.
The Senior Cadet.
The Amir's Ruby.
The Secret of the Plateau.
Leslie Dexter, Cadet.
A Mystery of the Broads.
Rivals of the Reef.
Captain Starlight.
On the Wings of the Wind.
Captain Blundell's Treasure.
Unconquered Wings.
Pat Stobart in the "Golden Dawn".
Ringed by Fire.
Midshipman Raxworthy.
Chums of the "Golden Vanity".
Clipped Wings.
Rocks Ahead.
King for a Month.
The Disappearing Dhow.
The Luck of the "Golden Dawn".
The Salving of the "Fusi Yama".
Winning his Wings.
The Good Ship "Golden Effort".
East in the "Golden Gain".
The Quest of the "Golden Hope".
The Wireless Officer.
The Submarine Hunters.
The Thick of the Fray at Zeebrugge.
With Beatty off Jutland.
The Dispatch Riders.
The Last of the Buccaneers.
A Lively Bit of the Front.
The Westerman Omnibus Book
Printed in Great Britain by Blackie & Son, Ltd., Glasgow
Contents
CHAP.
I. Good News
II. The Eavesdropper
III. Reporting for Duty
IV. The Greenhorns
V. Under Way
VI. A Night of Peril
VII. "Logged"
VIII. The Passengers
IX. A Quiet Trick
X. The Unheeded SOS
XI. The Old Man is Disturbed
XII. The Code-Book
XIII. Crossing the Line
XIV. Mostyn to the Rescue
XV. Unpopularity
XVI. Hot Work in No. 1 Hold
XVII. The Decoy Wireless
XVIII. The Difference of a Dot
XIX. Peter's Progress
XX. An Eventful River Trip
XXI. The End of S.S. "West Barbican"
XXII. A Night of Horror
XXIII. Peter takes Charge of Things
XXIV. Tidings from the Sea
XXV. Riding it Out
XXVI. Mostyn's Watch
XXVII. Aground
XXVIII. The Island
XXIX. Repairs and Renewals
XXX. The Voyage is Resumed
XXXI. Picked up at Sea
XXXII. The Dhow
XXXIII. A Fight to a Finish
XXXIV. Olive Deals with the Situation
XXXV. The End of the Voyage
XXXVI. A Round of Surprises
XXXVII. How the Steelwork Arrived
XXXVIII. The Completion of the Contract
Illustrations
The Lascars bundled the bodies into the life-boat . . . _Frontispiece_
The two men disappeared over the side of the ship
He began to turn the locking device, slowly and firmly
Two to one
THE WIRELESS OFFICER
CHAPTER I
Good News
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Peter Mostyn. "Now, this _does_ look like
business."
"It does, Mr. Mostyn," agreed the postmistress. "It seems as if we are
to lose you again."
"And about time too," added the youth, as he ripped open the long,
buff-coloured envelope bearing the words "Broughborough International
Marine Telegraph Company".
Peter Mostyn had been "on the beach" for nearly six months. In other
words, he was out of a berth. Not that it was any fault of his that a
promising and energetic young wireless officer should be without a ship
for such a protracted period. An unprecedented slump in British
shipping--when hundreds of vessels flying the Red Ensign were laid up,
while the bulk of the world's trade was carried by the mercantile fleet
of Germany--had resulted, amongst other ills, in the wholesale
"sacking" of officers and men, who to a great extent had been the means
of warding off the grim spectre of starvation during those black years
of the World War.
Five times a week for over four months Peter Mostyn had ridden into
Trentham Regis village in the hope of securing the long-expected
missive giving him an appointment to another ship.
And now the anxiously awaited communication had arrived. The
postmistress, a good, kindly soul to whom the affairs of every man,
woman, and child in the Trentham Regis postal area were open secrets,
was almost as excited as the recipient, when she handed the envelope
over the counter between the piles of groceries that comprised the
commercial side of the shop.
For a brief instant Peter was assailed by the dread that the envelope
would contain a stereotyped announcement to the effect that his
application was still under consideration; then a look of undisguised
relief and gratification overspread his tanned features.
"Yes, Mrs. Young!" he exclaimed; "I'm off in three days' time. Where?
I hardly know, but I rather fancy it's East Africa. Good evening."
Leaving the postmistress to spread the news amongst the good folk of
Trentham Regis--a feat that she would certainly accomplish to her
unbounded satisfaction before the post office closed for the
night--Peter mounted his motor-bicycle and rode after the fashion of
the long departed Jehu, the son of Nimshi, leaving behind him a long
trail of chalky dust in the still evening air. Short of wireless it
was doubtful whether the good news could have reached "The Pines" in
less time, for within the space of five and a half minutes Peter had
covered the three miles that separated his home from Trentham Regis.
"Hello, Mater!" he exclaimed, bursting into the house like a young
typhoon. "Where are you? Ah, there you are! I've got it!"
There was no need for Mrs. Mostyn to ask for further enlightenment upon
the cryptic "it". She guessed the news at once.
"I'm so glad, Peter!" she exclaimed. "What ship this time?"
"The _West Barbican_, Mater. I fancy she's one of the Blue Crescent
Line. If so, it's East Africa and possibly India, this trip. 'Tany
rate, I'm to join her before noon on Thursday. Where's the Pater?"
"Not back from town yet. There was a board meeting on this afternoon."
"Oh yes, I remember. About the Kilba Protectorate contract. I suppose
he'll return by the 8.50.... By Jove! What a topping stunt! Fancy
getting a ship again after all this time. Of course, Mother, it was
nice to be home again, but, after all, it's a jolly long time to be
kicking one's heels on the beach, isn't it?"
Mrs. Mostyn agreed, but solely upon her son's account. She was in no
hurry to send her boy to sea again, but she realized that it was for
his good that he should once more adventure upon the ocean. Coming of
a seafaring family that for generations past had sent its sons down to
the sea in ships--often never to return--she realized more than a good
many mothers what was meant by the call of the great waters. She had
drunk deeply of the cup of sorrow when the S.S. _Donibristle_, of which
Peter was wireless officer, had been reported overdue and missing, and
was afterwards given out by Lloyd's as a total loss. And in due course
Peter had returned home, modestly making light of his hairbreadth
adventures, his chief complaint being that the Broughborough
International Marine Telegraph Company had not thought fit to appoint
him to a ship belonging to the same fleet as did the S.S. _Donibristle_.
Peter's father, John Mostyn, was a retired Engineer Captain, R.N., who,
having severed his connection with the navy at the conclusion of the
Great War, had become one of the managing directors of the Brocklington
Ironworks Company.
For a while the affairs of the newly formed company had flourished.
Then came the inevitable slump. Labour troubles and foreign
competition added to the difficulties of the firm. The reserve capital
dwindled until there were barely sufficient funds to meet the weekly
wages bill. Things looked black--decidedly so; but never once did the
gloomy outlook daunt the cheery optimism of retired Engineer Captain
John Mostyn.
When the fortunes of the Brocklington Ironworks Company seemed at their
lowest ebb, the firm had an invitation to tender for a big contract for
the recently formed Kilba Protectorate. Comprising a vast extent of
territory on the East Coast of Africa, Kilba was making a bold bid for
prosperity under British rule. Amongst other schemes for the
development of the country was the proposed construction of a railway
linking up the coast with the rich mineral lands of the interior. One
of the natural difficulties in the way of the railroad was the
Kilembonga Gorge, where the river of that name flows with great
impetuosity between sheer walls of rock rising two hundred feet above
the turgid stream. The bed of the river was of shifting sand, so that,
even if the difficulty of the current could be overcome, there remained
the question of how to build solid piers on such a doubtful foundation.
Finally it was decided to throw a cantilever bridge across the chasm.
Accordingly, the Kilba Protectorate Government asked tenders for the
construction of the necessary steelwork, including delivery upon the
site. British, American, Italian, Japanese, and German firms were
invited to contract, although it was difficult to see why the Kilba
Government should have asked these last to quote a price. It was not
until later that a reason was forthcoming.
Among the British firms to tender was the Brocklington Ironworks
Company, and it was then that Captain Mostyn seized his opportunity.
He foresaw that a successful carrying out of the contract would be the
turning-point of the firm's fortunes--that the kudos derived from that
prosperous enterprise would give the Brocklington Ironworks Company a
world-wide advertisement and place them at the forefront of engineering
contracting firms.
Upon putting the circumstances of the case before his
brother-directors, Captain Mostyn carried his point. He told them that
the immediate financial results of the contract would be small--in
fact, almost insignificant--but once having beaten all rivals, British
and foreign, the future success of the company was assured.
"Capital?" echoed Captain Mostyn, in answer to a question from one of
his fellow-directors. "Capital? We can find the capital. It will be
a tight squeeze, a terribly tight squeeze, but we'll do it with a
slight margin to spare. Let me have a talk with the men, and I'll
warrant that, if they have the good sense I credit them with, we'll
pull the thing off successfully."
Without delay the managing director went down to Brocklington, where he
had what he called a straight talk with the firm's employees. He told
them straight that if their whole-hearted co-operation were not
forthcoming the works would have to close down, and that, with the
present state of unemployment, it would be difficult, almost
impossible, for the six hundred hands to find work elsewhere.
"I'm asking you to make sacrifices," he went on. "For the present
neither the directors nor the shareholders are making money, and
naturally we cannot run this business as a charity concern. I
therefore propose a general reduction of wages in order for us to quote
competitive prices, so that we may secure the contract and provide
constant work for all. I am also authorized by the board of directors
to state that fifty per cent of the profits of the contract--mind you
that amount will be comparatively small--will be apportioned as a bonus
to the workpeople."
Before Captain Mostyn left Brocklington the matter was clinched, as far
as the hands were concerned. There was a unanimous decision on the
part of the workpeople to back up the firm, and once this step was
decided upon Captain Mostyn knew that the greatest obstacle was
removed, and that British grit and determination on the part of the
employees would see the business through.
The Brocklington Ironworks Company sent in their tender and waited
hopefully. Three months later came the news that they had secured the
contract, which had been quoted at L50,500.
It was not the lowest tender. A couple of German firms were below this
estimate, owing to the low value of the mark. One, the Augsburg
Manufacturing Company, tendered at L30,000, while the Pfieldorf Company
of Chemnitz offered to supply and deliver the material for a trifle
over L20,000. The rest of the competing firms tendered considerably
higher than the Brocklington Ironworks Company.
In the conditions of contract several "stiff" clauses had been
inserted. The Kilba Protectorate Government required the completion of
the work, including delivery, by the end of March; failing which, a
heavy penalty was to be inflicted. All the steelwork was to be
examined by competent inspectors, both in England and on the site, and
any defective material was to be replaced at the contractors' expense
plus a fine equal to the value of the replaced work.
Gallantly the employees of the Brocklington Ironworks Company rose to
the occasion. Work continued at high pressure in spite of sundry
difficulties. When the supply of coal ran short, the smelting furnaces
were fed with wood. When the railway companies dallied over the
delivery of iron-ore, a fleet of motor lorries brought the stuff direct
from the pits. Once, a series of unexplained explosions destroyed a
part of the rolling mills, but within a week the machinery was in
working order again, and by the end of October the whole of the
steelwork was ready for the Government inspectors.
It was to receive the report of the latter that Captain Mostyn had gone
to town. At 8.50 Peter met his father at Trentham Regis station.
"Why, Pater," exclaimed Peter, as his sire alighted, "what have you
been doing--whitewashing?"
Captain Mostyn glanced at his shoulder. His coat was speckled with
white dust.
"Oh, that," he replied carelessly. "I suppose it was when some fellow
working above the board-room fell through the ceiling. He wasn't hurt,
only a bit scared. I'll tell you all about it later. What's more to
the point, Peter, the steelwork's passed the test with flying colours,
and we're shipping it on Saturday on the S.S. _West Barbican_."
"My new ship," announced Peter.