Captain Briggs, in a sheepish sort of way, tried to make friends
with Jack following the episode on the dock. But Jack had little use
for the man and kept on with his own devices, paying little
attention to Captain Briggs, except in the line of duty.
On the night before which they were to sail for America again, Jack
had been uptown to post some cards and letters and did not return to
the ship till about nine o’clock at night. As he made his way to his
cabin, he was startled to see what he thought was a human figure
gliding among the boats and life-rafts on the deck outside, for the
wireless-room of the _Cambodian_, like most such structures, was
perched upon the boat deck.
“Now, who could that be?” thought the boy. “Guess I’ll take a look
around. These docks are infested with thieves, and although there’s
a watchman on duty, somebody may have sneaked on board.”
But although he made what was quite a thorough search, he could find
no trace of the man he thought he had seen dodging among the boats
as if seeking a hiding place. He was forced to conclude at length
that, in the uncertain light, he must have mistaken the swaying
shadow of a rope or part of the rigging, for a human form.
“Well, I guess I’ll turn in,” decided Jack, as he opened his cabin
door. “We sail early to-morrow and I’ll have to be on the job.”
He undressed slowly, thinking of many things, among them of Raynor
and his fate.
“Somehow I cannot bring myself to believe that he is drowned,”
reflected the boy. “I’m just as sure as I am that I am sitting here
that he will turn up some day. And yet he should have been picked up
by one of the ships I spoke with if he succeeded in keeping afloat.
But maybe a sailing craft rescued him. In that case he might have to
make a voyage to China before he could communicate with the outside
world.”
A slight noise outside made the boy sit up erect and listen
intently. He went to the door and looked out. There was nothing out
of the ordinary there.
“I must be nervous to-night,” said Jack to himself, in tones of
self-reproof. “What’s the matter with me? First I think I see a man
and then I think I hear someone snooping about. Guess this climate
doesn’t agree with me.”
But Jack was not, as he indignantly assured himself, the victim of
nerves. There was a man outside his cabin. A man who was watching
him eagerly through a port-hole opening into the wireless room. The
man had a yellow, evil face and two glittering black eyes like a
snake’s. In his ears hung two hoops of gold. It was Alvarez, the
Spanish sailor.
He was there to witness the culmination of a plot he had formed that
was to imperil Jack’s life.
While Jack was in the town, the man had sneaked on board with the
agility of a monkey, swarming up one of the mooring lines,
unnoticed. He had made his way at once to the wireless room. Once
inside, from his pocket he had produced wires and pliers.
For half an hour or more he worked feverishly and with a skill in
handling his tools that showed he was an expert mechanician. Indeed,
the man had once been a skilled electrician, but a crime he had
committed had forced him to flee his country and leave his
employment and become a common sailor.
Every now and then, as he worked, he would stop and tip-toe to the
door of the wireless room. He had no wish to be caught napping for
he knew the power of Jack’s fist and the heavy penalty that would be
visited upon him were he caught in the fiendish work upon which he
was engaged.
Tirelessly he connected wires to terminals and finally he produced
from his pocket an oblong black object formed, apparently, of metal.
He connected wires to this and then, with a diabolical grin, planted
it beneath the wireless table. He had completed his work just in
time to dart from the cabin as Jack’s quick, firm step was heard
ascending the companion ladder. So that the young wireless lad was
not the victim of an illusion when he thought he saw a human figure.
Alvarez slipped in under a canvas boat cover while Jack was making a
search. In his place of concealment he chuckled evilly to himself:
“Caramba! What a revenge is mine on this dog of a Yankee boy! Did he
think that he could insult and beat a Spaniard without suffering?
Todos los Santos, no! A few moments now and my revenge will be
complete.”
When Jack reéntered the cabin, the Spaniard had crawled from under
the boat cover and taken up a place of vantage at a porthole where
he could see into the cabin and watch Jack’s every movement.
“Will he never go near the wireless key!” he exclaimed impatiently
to himself as Jack, half-a-dozen times, appeared to be on the point
of retiring. The young wireless operator felt strangely restless and
disinclined to sleep. At last the wireless apparatus caught his eye.
“Guess I’ll see if everything is in shape,” he murmured to himself.
“I won’t have much time to effect repairs after we sail to-morrow.”
Alvarez’s eyes glowed like live coals and his yellow fingers
clinched as he watched the lad approach the key.
He was like an evil serpent watching some victim nearing its fangs.
Jack pressed down the key.
There was a deafening explosion.
Amidst a glare of red flame and lurid smoke, the young operator
staggered backward and fell unconscious on the floor of the cabin.
In his forehead was a jagged gash from which the blood streamed over
his white, lifeless face.