THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS OF THE ICEBERG PATROL
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[Illustration: Amidst a glare of red flame and lurid smoke, the young
operator staggered backward.]
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THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS OF THE ICEBERG PATROL
BY
CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON
AUTHOR OF
“THE BOY AVIATORS’ SERIES,”
“THE DREADNOUGHT BOYS’ SERIES,”
“THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON THE ATLANTIC,”
“THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS AND THE LOST LINER”
WITH ILLUSTRATIONS BY CHARLES L. WRENN
NEW YORK
HURST & COMPANY
PUBLISHERS
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Copyright, 1915,
BY
HURST & COMPANY
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CONTENTS
I. ON THE OCEAN TRAIL
II. ON THE LOOKOUT FOR ICE
III. A NARROW ESCAPE
IV. MAN OVERBOARD!
V. IMPRISONED
VI. MAROONED ON AN ICEBERG
VII. JACK SAVES THE CAPTAIN
VIII. ON BOARD THE “_POLLY ANN_”
IX. A JOKE ON POMPEY
X. PLANS TO ESCAPE
XI. A FIENDISH PLOT
XII. UNCLE TOBY IS OFF FOR TREASURE
XIII. POMPEY MYSTIFIED
XIV. TERROR CARSON’S NERVE
XV. A WHALE IS ANNOYED
XVI. LOCKED IN THE CABIN
XVII. IN THE EYES OF THE SHIP
XVIII. RAYNOR TO THE RESCUE
XIX. SKULL ISLAND
XX. JACK TRIES OUT HIS INVENTION
XXI. THE WRECK OF THE “_POLLY ANN_”
XXII. FOOTPRINTS ON THE SAND
XXIII. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING
XXIV. A FRIGHT IN THE NIGHT
XXV. POMPEY LEARNS ABOUT WIRELESS
XXVI. A JOYOUS MESSAGE
XXVII. A CRASH IN THE FOG
XXVIII. UNCLE TOBY IS SURPRISED
XXIX. OFF FOR SKULL ISLAND
XXX. JACK AND BILL MEET ONCE MORE
XXXI. IN A BOILING SEA
XXXII. CEDAR ISLAND AT LAST
XXXIII. TERROR CARSON AGAIN
XXXIV. A PERILOUS ADVENTURE
XXXV. THE TREASURE
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The Ocean Wireless Boys of the Iceberg Patrol
CHAPTER I: ON THE OCEAN TRAIL.
The big, high-sided _Cambodian_, in ballast, that is, carrying no
cargo, and outward bound from New York for Rotterdam, was
shouldering through the green seas that came racing to meet her. The
_Cambodian_ was a brand new freighter of the big shipping combine
controlled by Jacob Jukes, and as just then no better berth had been
offered, Jack Ready found himself occupying her wireless room
getting the newly installed radio apparatus in shape and tuned up
for effective service.
As he worked over a refractory detector Jack, although normally of a
cheerful disposition, felt a strong inclination to grumble at his
present berth. He had been hoping for a chance at the wireless
operator job on board the _Empire State_, the newest and greatest of
the Jukes trans-Atlantic liners. But at the last moment he had been
passed over and another operator appointed on the ground of
seniority.
But Jack’s gloomy mood did not last long. As usual, the stimulus of
work soon caused the clouds to dissolve, and by the time he had the
detector adjusted, he was humming cheerfully. As he looked up from
his completed job, a ruddy-faced, cheery-looking lad about two years
older than Jack, who was eighteen, stuck his head in at the door of
the wireless-room which, besides the apparatus, contained Jack’s
bunk, a picture of the boy’s dead mother hanging at its head, and
the desk at which he made out his reports.
“Hello there,” hailed Jack, as Billy Raynor appeared, “going off
watch?”
“Well, don’t I look it, with this fine old coat of grime on my
hide?” laughed Jack’s chum, now promoted to the post of second
engineer on the new freighter.
“Thought when you got to be second you were just going to loll
around with your hands in your pockets and give orders,” commented
Jack.
“Um, so did I,” rejoined Raynor with a rather wry grin, “but, as you
see, it didn’t just work out that way. By-the-way, I thought you
were going to be the dandy, brass-buttoned wireless hero on a
passenger packet this trip.”
It was Jack’s turn to give a rueful smile and he rejoined, “So did
I.”
“Old Jukes was mighty nice about it though,” he explained. “I’m
getting the same pay as I would on a liner and then, too, that check
for that South American business came in mighty handy, so that,
financially, I’m not kicking. But I do want to get ahead in my
work.”
“Well, old Jukes ought to shove you right along,” declared Raynor,
coming in and planting his overalled form in a chair by the desk.
“You’ve sure done a lot for him, starting in by saving his daughter,
and----”
“Say, shut up, will you!” sputtered Jack, turning red. “I don’t want
any favoritism for anything I may or may not have done. That isn’t
it. I just want to get right ahead in the wireless game.”
“And so you are, so far as I can see,” replied Raynor.
“Incidentally, how’s the portable set coming along?”
He referred to Jack’s pet hobby, an invention over which he had
worked during all his spare time, afloat and ashore, for months. It
was a portable wireless set in which weight and complexity had been
cut to the bone. Jack had managed to reduce the weight by degrees
till at last he had produced what he believed would prove a
practicable device for use in the field, which weighed a trifle
under fifty pounds, and could be carried over the operator’s
shoulder in a satchel.
In reply to young Raynor’s question, Jack opened a closet and
produced a set of instruments of exquisite finish. Attached to them
was a neat coil of copper wire and, strapped to the base that
supported the whole, was a flat package of cloth and bamboo sticks.
“What’s that jigger underneath?” asked Raynor, referring to the
latter bit of apparatus.
“That’s a box kite,” explained Jack.
“A box kite? What in the world do you want with that?”
“Well, you can’t send out or receive messages without aërials, can
you?” parried Jack.
“No, but you could hitch your aërial wires to a tree or----”
“All right, Mr. Smarty, but just suppose that you are in a country
where there are no trees.”
“Oh, I see,” exclaimed Raynor, “in that case you’d do a little kite
flying.”
“That’s the idea exactly,” responded Jack.
“Have you tested it yet?” inquired Raynor.
“Up to 150 miles. It works splendidly. I’m going to gear up my
hand-generator higher so as to produce a stronger alternating
current, however. Then I think I’ll get better results.”
Clang-g-g-g-g-g-g-g!
A gong above Jack’s head sounded clamorously. This gong was another
of the boy’s inventions. By means of a silicon detector ingeniously
connected, a wireless wave striking the antenna of the _Cambodian’s_
apparatus instantly sounded the gong. In this way Jack had done with
a lot of tiresome waiting for calls with his receivers clamped to
his head.
“Something doing?” asked Raynor, as Jack sprang from the chair he
had been sitting on and seated himself in front of the wireless key.
“I guess it’s nothing much,” was the reply, “_Siasconset_ maybe, or
_Race_.”
But a moment later the expression of the young operator’s face grew
concentrated. His hand reached out for a pencil and he began to
scribble on his transcription pad the words that came pulsing
against his ears like waves out of a vast sea of space.
“Steamer _Athenia_ (Br.) reports,”--thus Jack wrote--“Along
parallel of 45.06 saw ice as follows:--Grindstone, one mile
of ice inshore. Scatari, close-packed ice inshore. Cape Ray,
loose strings distant. Money Point, heavy close-packed ice
inshore. Cape Race, several small strings loose ice drifting
S. W.”
Raynor had been peering oyer Jack’s shoulder as the boy wrote. When
he ceased, the young engineer was full of eager questions. Jack
flashed out an answer to the _Athenia_ and then “grounded” his
instrument.
“Well, that’s to be expected in April,” was his comment. “I guess
we’ll get a lot more of such reports before long.”
“Think we’ll run into any bergs?” asked Raynor rather anxiously.
“Don’t get nervous,” laughed Jack, “the iceberg patrol is on the
lookout for those. I’m surprised they haven’t ‘tapped-in’ yet with
some information. That’s the service for you, old man, the iceberg
patrol. Think of the lives you have a chance to save and--and--but
I’ve got to be off with this message to the old man.”
Jack hurried from the cabin, and forwarded his message to Captain
Briggs on the bridge. Raynor followed with more deliberation and
made for his own cabin and soap and water. As he removed the grime
of the engine-room, he mused on the subject of icebergs. Not many
weeks before a big liner had blundered at night into a huge floating
continent of ice and had sunk, with a terrible toll of lives and
suffering.
“If a big old liner like that couldn’t stand one wallop from an
iceberg what chance would the _Cambodian_ stand?” he wondered.
“Still, as Jack said, since the accident they’ve had a regular
iceberg patrol to send out warnings by wireless of any bergs that
happen to be in the vicinity. I wouldn’t mind seeing a berg though,
if it wasn’t at too close range. Wonder if I ever will?”
Had the young engineer possessed the gift of second sight, he would
have been able to foresee that in the immediate future he was
destined to come into closer contact with icebergs than he would
have dreamed possible, and also that the entire current of his life
was to be changed by a series of unlooked for and astonishing
happenings.