The Ocean Wireless Boys on War Swept Seas

CHAPTER I

THE GOLD SHIP

The newspapers announced in large type that the Kronprinzessin Emilie, the crack flyer of the Bremen-American line, was to carry from the United States to Germany the vast sum of $6,000,000 in bullion. On her sailing day the dock, from which she was to start on what destined to prove the most eventful voyage ever made since men first went down to the sea in ships, was jammed with gaping crowds. They interfered with the passengers, and employees of the company had to jostle their way among them as best they could.

The thought of the vast fortune stowed within the tall, steel sides of the liner had attracted them, although what they expected to see of it was difficult to imagine. But just as a crowd will gather outside a prison where some notorious malefactor is confined, feasting their eyes on its gray walls without hope of seeing the lawbreaker himself, so the throngs on the Kronprinzessin Emilie’s pier indulged their curiosity by staring at the colossal casket that held such an enormous fortune.

Among those who had to win their way through the crowd almost by main force, were two tanned, broad-shouldered youths carrying suitcases and handbags.

“My, what a mob, Jack!” exclaimed one of them, elbowing himself between a stout man who was gazing fixedly at the vessel’s side – and showed no disposition to move – and an equally corpulent woman whose mouth was wide open and whose eyes bulged as if she almost expected to see the ship gold-plated instead of black.

“Yes, gold’s a great magnet even if it is stowed away inside the specie room of a steamer,” replied Jack Ready. “We ought to feel like millionaires ourselves, Bill, sailing on such a ship.”

“A sort of vacation de luxe,” laughed Bill Raynor. “What a chance for the buccaneers of the old days if they could only come to life again. Then there would be real adventure in sailing on the Kronprinzessin.”

“I guess we’ve had about all the adventure we want for a time, Bill,” replied Jack, as they finally gained the gang-plank and two white-coated, gilt-buttoned stewards grabbed their hand baggage. “The Pacific and New Guinea provided what you might call ‘an ample sufficiency’ for me in that line.”

“We earned this holiday, that’s one thing sure,” agreed Bill, “and the best part of it is that the sale of those pearls gave us enough funds for a holiday abroad without putting too much of a crimp in our bank accounts.”

He referred to the pearls the boys’ native chums in the Pamatou Islands in the South Pacific had presented them with, after their narrow escape from death in the sea-cave and the subsequent wreck on a coral reef, during the memorable Pacific voyage and adventures, which were described in detail in the volume of this series which immediately preceded the present book. This volume was called, “The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific.”

In the first book of this series, which was called “The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Atlantic,” we were introduced to Jack Ready, then the young wireless operator of the big tank steamer Ajax. His chum, Bill Raynor, was a junior engineer of that craft. A strong friendship sprang up between the two lads, which their subsequent adventures on that voyage cemented into a lasting affection.

Jack also won the approval of Jacob Jukes, head of the great shipping combine that owned the Ajax and a vast fleet of craft, both passenger and freight, besides, by his masterly handling of a difficult situation when the millionaire shipping-man’s yacht burned in mid-Atlantic.

This incident, and others which proved that the young wireless man was level-headed and cool, even in the worst emergency, resulted in his being transferred to the passenger service on board the West Indian service craft, the Tropic Queen. The thrilling events that accompanied the vessel’s last voyage were set forth in the second volume of the Ocean Wireless Boys series, entitled, “The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Lost Liner.”

Still another book related how Jack and his chum took to the seas again on different vessels, only to be reunited in the strangest manner. “The Ocean Wireless Boys of the Iceberg Patrol,” as this was named, told something of the work of the craft detailed by Uncle Sam to the duty of patrolling northern seas, sending wireless warnings of icebergs to trans-Atlantic liners – a work of infinite usefulness which, had it been instituted earlier, might have averted the loss of the Titanic, the greatest marine disaster in the history of the world. This was followed by an account of the exciting Pacific adventures already referred to.

The boys, and their employer, Mr. Jukes, agreed with them, and felt that after their experiences in the South Seas with the millionaire’s expedition in search of his lost brother, they had earned a holiday; and their determination to tour Europe was the outcome.

But even as they stepped on board the “Gold Ship,” the machinery of war was beginning to rumble in Europe, and before many hours had passed, the storm of well-nigh universal war was destined to begin. Of this, of course, they had no inkling, as they busied themselves in establishing their belongings in their main-deck cabin. These preparations had hardly been completed when the siren boomed warningly, and a tremor ran through the big vessel. As she backed out of her pier, the brass band began to play and the crowds on the decks, and on the docks, waved wildly, cheered and shouted last messages which, by no possibility, could have been heard above the din.

“Well, off at last, Jack,” said Raynor, entwining Jack’s elbow in his own as the two leaned, side by side, on the railing, bidding good-bye to New York’s wonderful skyscraper skyline as it slid past. “How does it feel to be a passenger?”

Jack’s eyes sought the lofty wireless aerials swung far above them between the two masts.

“It feels mighty odd to think of somebody else sending out the T. R.” he said slowly, naming the wireless method of saying “Good-bye,” on sailing.

“Well, I never saw such a fellow!” exclaimed Raynor. “For goodness’ sake forget your everlasting coherers and keys and converters and the rest of them and enjoy taking life easy. But – hullo!” he broke off, “there’s someone we know.”

Approaching them was a dapper little man, with a neat black moustache and dressed in a careful, almost dignified manner.

“Why, it’s Raymond de Garros, that French aviator we saved from the sea off Florida when we were on the old Tropic Queen!” exclaimed Jack.

“That’s the man. But what in the world is he doing here? I thought he was in France organizing an aeroplane corps for the army.”

“So did I. The newspapers have had several despatches about his work. But we shall soon find out about the reason for his being on board.”

A minute later they were warmly shaking hands with the little Frenchman, who, with many gesticulations and twirlings of his moustache, assured them how glad he was to “greet zee two brave boys zat save my life from zee sea.”

“You’re the last person we expected to see,” said Jack, when first greetings were over. “We didn’t even know you were in America.”

The little Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and looked about him uneasily. Then he buttonholed the boys confidentially.

“No one know zat I am here but my government,” he said in low tones.

“You are on a secret mission of some kind?” asked Jack.

“Can I trust you to keep somethings to yourselves if I tell you what I am do in Amerique?” asked the aviator.

“Of course, but if you don’t wish – I didn’t mean to appear inquisitive,” Jack hastened to say.

“Zat is all right, my friend!” exclaimed de Garros. “You save my life. I should be ungrateful if I seemed secretive wiz you. I have been in Amerique buying and shipping aeroplanes to France from one of your manufacturers.”

“But I thought France already had a powerful air fleet,” said Bill.

The little aviator’s next words were astonishing to the boys, who shared the common impression about the French strength in the air.

“Before many days are past we shall need all and more aeroplanes than we have,” he said. “I wish we had twice as many. But I can say no more now. But my advice to you is to watch zee wireless closely. You are going abroad on pleasure?”

“Yes, we thought we’d earned a vacation,” said Jack.

The little Frenchman’s rejoinder was a shrug and a smile.

“Your vacation may be what you Americans call a ‘strenuous one,’” he said meaningly, and with an emphasis the boys could not fathom. “By the way, on board this ship I am Jules Campion. There are reasons for my real name being unknown for the present. Au revoir, I go to arrange my luggage. We shall meet again.”

And he was gone, leaving the boys to exchange puzzled glances.

CHAPTER II

WAR IS DECLARED!

“Vell, Yack Retty, you yust like to hang aroundt undt see me vurk, hein?”

Hans Poffer, the yellow-haired, red-cheeked wireless operator of the Kronprinzessin Emilie asked the question, on the afternoon of the third day out. Jack had discovered in young Poffer an acquaintance he had made in Antwerp when he was on board the Ajax, and had renewed the friendship, to Poffer’s great delight, for the German wireless man had had trouble with his instruments the first day out which Jack had adjusted for him.

Since that time Jack, to Bill Raynor’s amusement, had spent most of his time in the wireless room enjoying, as Poffer put it, “watching me work.” But there was another reason beside his deep-seated interest in everything appertaining to his profession that made Jack haunt the Kronprinzessin’s wireless coop. De Garros, with whom he had had several conversations since their meeting on board, had repeatedly told him to be on the lookout for something “that would before long come over the wires.” Once, in discussing the boys’ plans for amusing themselves in Europe, the aviator had said meaningly, “if you ever get there.” But what he meant by these words he had steadfastly refused to explain, telling Jack that he would find out in good time.

“Me, if I gedt idt a holliday,” said Poffer, after greeting Jack a day later, “I go by as far avay from der vireless as I couldt gedt idt. I gedt sick undt tired hearing idt all day ‘tick-tick’ undt sending idt all day der same ‘tick-tick’ alretty. Donner! I’m hungry again. Holdt idt mein key a minute vile I gedt idt mineself a bite.”

The stout German slipped his wireless “ears” from his head and extended them to Jack, who, good-naturedly, took them. Then he made off for his cabin where he kept constantly a stock of provisions to satisfy his appetite between meals.

“Well, I’m a fine chump,” smiled Jack, as he slipped into Hans’ vacant chair. “No wonder Bill says I’m crazy. Off for a holiday and the first thing I know I find myself back on the job. Hullo, here’s a message coming. K. P. E., that’s our call. Funny sort of sending, too. Doesn’t sound like a commercial operator.”

Jack crackled out a reply.

“This is the Kronprinzessin Emilie,” he flashed back; “what do you want?”

“Tell your captain to lie to in his present position till further orders,” came the reply.

“Well, I like your nerve,” flashed back Jack, thinking somebody was trying to play a wireless joke on him. “Don’t you know we are carrying the European mails from New York? You stick around where you are and we may bump into you on the way back again.”

“Never mind about that. Obey orders at once,” came back bruskly.

“Say, never mind that comedy,” implored Jack. “I’m busy. Ring off.”

“No trifling there, young man,” was flashed back. “This is the British cruiser Essex. We want to overhaul you.”

“But you can’t stop a mail steamer.”

“In this case we can. War has been declared by England upon Germany and Austria. Lay to or it will be the worse for you.”

A step sounded behind Jack. He turned quickly, thinking it was someone who wanted to send a message, in which case he was anxious to “cut out” the man he thought was playing a senseless joke on him. The newcomer was de Garros.

“Ah, sitting at zee wire, eh? I suppose our always hungry Teutonic friend iz taking ze light lunch somewhere. Ah, any news? I saw you working ze key as I came in.”

“No news since I came on,” said Jack, carelessly. “I was just trying to convince some deep sea joker that he couldn’t fool me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Why, somebody just flashed a message to the ship that they were the British cruiser Essex and that war had been declared between England and Germany and – ”

He got no further. De Garros’s hands flew out and seized his shoulders.

“Zat was no joke, mon ami,” he exclaimed; “it was zee truth.”

“The truth? How do you know?” asked the naturally astonished Jack.

“It has been in zee air for months in diplomatic circles. I thought zee declaration would have come before this. It was for that that I was in Amerique buying aeroplanes.”

“What, is France in this, too?” demanded the astonished Jack.

“Yes, and Russia also. Russia declared war two days ago. Then came France, zee second member of zee Triple Entente, as zee is called, and now, as was expected, comes England to help against the German barbarians.”

“But how did you know all this?” demanded Jack. “There was nothing in the papers when we left New York, but something about a row between Austria and Servia.”

“Which caused all the trouble,” came the reply; “or, rather, zee match to zee powder. But zee ask me how I know zee declaration of war of Russia and France. I am not the only man on zee ship zat does. Captain Rollok, he knows, zee officers know, like me zey have been getting wireless messages in code. Zey have been warned to look out for English cruisers in case England joined France and Russia. Zis Gerrman ship with six million dollars in gold on board would be a fine prize for Great Britain. My friend, before many hours have passed, you are going to have some excitement.”

“Great gracious, then that message wasn’t a joke and that British cruiser may overhaul us and take all that bullion?”

“If she can catch us, – yes. She will also make prisoners of the Germans on board and take the ship to an English port.”

“What had I better do?”

“Here comes young Poffer now. Tell him of zee message and get it to zee captain at once. If we are caught we may be delayed indefinitely and zee haste is imperative with me at zee present time.”

The German wireless man entered the cabin, gnawing at a huge pretzel. At Jack’s information of the message that had come, he dropped it to the floor in his astonishment and stood staring for a moment.

“Himmel!” he exclaimed, when he found his voice. “Englandt is go var midt Yarmany! Undt a Bridish sheep chase us. Ach du lieber, if they catch us, Hans Poffer goes by a prison yet midt nudding to eat but bread undt vater – ”

“Never mind about that now,” interrupted Jack quickly; “take that information to Captain Rollok at once. Take it yourself. Don’t give it to a steward. If the passengers knew of this, there’d be a panic in a jiffy.”

Poffer, still with his mouth and eyes wide open, hurried off on his errand.

“Captain Rollok will probably come back himself,” declared de Garros, “and vee will be ordered out of the cabin. Ve had better go now. But vee must not say a word of zees till zee time comes. Vee have more as two thousand passengers on board and if zey zink a warship chase us, —sacre!”

CHAPTER III

ON DECK ONCE MORE

Jack was lolling in a deck chair fifteen minutes later, still digesting the astonishing news that had come out of space, when a deck steward approached him and, with an air of caution, leant over the lad and said:

“Captain Rollok would like to see you in the wireless room at once, please.”

“Now what’s up?” wondered Jack, as greatly astonished by this message, he made his way to the radio cabin. “I guess I’m in for a call down for sitting in at the key. Poor Poffer, I’ll see that he doesn’t get into trouble if I can help it, and as for me – I’m a passenger now and captains have no terrors for me.”

These thoughts occupied him as far as his destination. Within the cabin were Captain Rollok, a giant of a man, with a fresh complexion and huge blond beard, one of his officers and Hans Pollak, the latter looking in fear of his life as the big captain berated him, in German, with force and vigor. As Jack entered the cabin, the great bulk of the captain swung round on him.

“So you are de young mans who sits in at der vireless vile dis cabbage-head goes stuffing himself midt pretzels, is it?” he demanded, with what appeared great severity, but with an underlying twinkle in his eyes.

Jack contented himself with nodding and a brief admission that he had taken Poffer’s place at the key while the latter refreshed himself. He half-expected an outburst from the big German but, to his astonishment, the captain clapped him on the back with a force that almost knocked him off his feet.

“Ach, du lieber!” he exclaimed; “it was goot dot you vod dere, uddervise dis foolish Poffer would haf left der key anyvay undt dot British cruiser would have overhauled us. Now I got a proposition to make to you. You are a vireless man. Our second operator is sick undt idt is necessary dot dere is someones at der vireless all of der time. Vill you take der chob?”

Jack hardly knew what to say. The proposal had come so abruptly that he found it hard to make up his mind.

“You would want me to help out all the way to Europe?” he asked.

“We are not going to Europe,” was the reply. “I am going to run back for der American coast undt try to dodge capture. Six million dollars is a big enough prize to make der search for us pretty active. I don’t believe dere would be a chance for us to reach der udder side.”

“Well,” said Jack, after some consideration, “I guess my holiday is off anyhow, and I might as well get down to work now as later on. All right, Captain, you can count on me.”

“Goot for you. I vill see dot you are no loser by idt,” said the big German, and so Jack, by a strange combination of undreamt-of circumstances, became the wireless man of the “gold ship,” whose subsequent adventures were destined to fill the world with wonder.

Poffer’s hours of duty ended at dinner time that evening, and by the time Jack sat down at the key, it was dark. No more word had come from the British cruiser, and so far the Kronprinzessin’s course had not been altered. A hasty message in cipher had been sent to the offices of the line in New York, but so far no orders to turn back had come through the air.

However, Jack had not been on duty an hour before the expected command came. The passengers strolling and sitting about the decks were suddenly aware that the big ship was slowing up and being turned about. The incredulous ones among them were speedily convinced that this was actually the case when it was pointed out that the moon, which had been on the starboard side of the ship in the early evening, was now to be seen off the port quarter.

Rumors ran rife throughout the great steel vessel. There had been an accident to the machinery, there were icebergs ahead, some plot against the security of the gold in the specie room had been discovered – these, and even wilder reports, were circulated. The captain and the other officers were besieged for explanations, but none were forthcoming, for the time being.

Shortly before midnight, however, the captain in person entered the smoking room with a telegram in his hand.

“Gentlemen,” he announced to those assembled there, “I am sorry to say that var has been declared bedween England and Germany, Great Britain siding against my Vaterland mit France and Russia.”

He held up his hand to quell the hub-bub that instantly broke loose. When a measure of quiet was restored, he resumed:

“Id is therefore imbossible for the voyage of this ship to continue. As you haf observed, her course has been altered. Ve are on our way back to America.”

“To New York?” demanded a score of voices.

The captain shook his head.

“New York vill be vatched more carefully than any udeer port on der Atlantic coast,” he said. “I haf not yet decided for vere I vill make; but I ask you all to take der situation philisophically and try to quiet any alarm among der lady passengers.”

The turmoil of questions and answers and excited conversation broke out again, and in the midst of it the captain’s broad form disappeared through the doorway. A few moments later, Raynor was in the wireless room after a fruitless search for his chum in other parts of the ship.

“Say, what are you doing sitting at that key?” he demanded. “Have you gone to work for the ship?”

“Looks that way, doesn’t it?” smiled Jack.

“Did you know that we are running away from British cruisers?” asked Raynor, breathlessly.

“Knew it before the ship was turned around,” said Jack, calmly. “But I couldn’t have told even you about it at the time. It was confidential. But there’s no reason why you shouldn’t hear it all now,” and he launched into a narration of the events just passed which had had such a strange culmination. He was in the midst of it, when one of the junior officers of the ship appeared.

He told the boys they would have to close the door of the wireless room and cover the ports. Not a ray of light must be visible about the ship, he informed them. In the darkness even the glow of a single port-light might give a clue as to the whereabouts of their quarry to the lurking British cruisers. In the passengers’ quarters of the great ship, similar orders were issued. Stewards went about blanketing portholes and turning out all unnecessary lights. By ten o’clock, except in the “working” quarters of the ship, – and there, they were carefully concealed, as in the wireless room, – there was not a light on board.

In order to insure obedience to his orders, the captain had had the cabin lights disconnected from the dynamos at that hour. On the darkened decks, little groups of timid passengers, who refused to go to bed, huddled and talked in low tones, constantly gazing seaward to catch sight of a tell-tale searchlight which would tell of pursuit or interception.

Through the darkness, the great ship was driven at top speed without warning lights of any description. Watches were doubled, and on the bridge, the unsleeping captain kept vigil with his anxious officers.

Through the long hours, Jack sat unwinkingly at his key. But it was not till the sky was graying the next morning that anything disturbed the silence of the air. Then came a break in the monotony. The British cruiser Essex was speaking to the Suffolk. But the messages were in code and told nothing except that Jack caught the name of the liner and knew the radio talk between the warships concerned her.

At breakfast time the passengers assembled in the saloon, for the most part anxious and haggard after sleepless nights. The captain spoke encouragingly, but even his words had little effect. Every one on board felt and showed the strain of this blind racing over the ocean with watchful naval bull-dogs lying in wait ready to pounce on the richest prize afloat on the seven seas.

CHAPTER IV

ICEBERGS AHEAD!

That night a dense fog fell. But the pace of the fleeing liner was not slackened by a fraction of a knot. Without running lights, and with darkened decks and cabins, she raced blindly onward through the smother, facing disaster if she struck an obstacle. The passengers, already nerve-racked for the most part, almost beyond endurance, named a committee which was sent to the captain to protest against the reckless risk he was taking in ploughing ahead at top speed through the blinding mist.

They returned with a report that the captain had refused to slacken speed. With reckless fatalism, it appeared, he was prepared to lose his ship in a disaster rather than run the chance of its capture by cruisers of the country with which his ruler was at war. A new feeling, one of indignation, began to spread through the big ship. Little knots gathered and angrily censured the captain’s action. Some even visited him in person, but while he was polite to all, he firmly refused to reduce speed or display lights.