The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific

The millionaire’s face glowed and suddenly lost its careworn look.

“That’s the best part of it,” he explained. “But come to my cabin, captain – yes, Ready, you and Raynor may come, too,” he added as he intercepted anxious looks on the boys’ faces.

Inside the cabin the millionaire spread on the table the yellowed, scribbled bit of paper that just then meant more to him than any document he had ever seen in his life.

“I’ll read aloud,” he said, and then, in a clear voice, he recited the contents of the missive.

“Any one finding this please notify my brother Jacob Jukes of New York, who will reward him lavishly for the trouble. This is being written on board ‘Bully’ Broom’s schooner, South Sea Lass. We are all prisoners and the 'Tear of the Sea’ is in the ruffian’s possession. We are being taken, as I overheard, to Bomobori, in New Guinea, with what object I cannot say. May Heaven help us in our desperate strait. I am throwing this, with a prayer to Heaven that it may be found, from the window of the cabin in which I am confined.

    Jerushah Jukes.”

“I know Bomobori well,” exclaimed Captain Sparhawk, as Mr. Jukes finished reading. “I was there in '87 and again in '89.”

“What sort of a place is it?” inquired Mr. Jukes.

“Not much of a town,” was the reply. “It is at the mouth of a river that penetrates a wild country. If ‘Bully’ Broom wished to hide his captives, he could not have taken them to a better place.”

“Sparhawk,” and the millionaire’s voice was vibrant with determination, “how long will it take us to get there?”

“I should say not more than a week. But we should have to re-coal at Tahiti if we are to make the run at top speed. How about that, Raynor?”

“You’re right, captain,” said the young engineer. “I’ll guarantee to run the Sea Gypsy’s engines faster than they were ever run before, but I’ve got to have the coal to do it with.”

“That steamer is through coaling us now?” asked the millionaire, after he had made a few calculations on a scrap of paper.

“They emptied the last of their load an hour ago,” said Captain Sparhawk.

“Good,” was Mr. Jukes’ response. “Send the captain to me and I will give him my check. Raynor, how soon can you have steam up?”

“In an hour, sir,” responded the young engineer.

“Splendid; make all the time you can. Every moment is valuable now. Ready – ”

Jack was all attention. Into the millionaire’s manner had come a snap and a grip of affairs that had not been there since they had sailed. He had something tangible to go upon now, and was plainly prepared to make the most of it.

“Ready,” he went on, “I want you to raise Tahiti at once. Order coal to be ready for us when we arrive and have a force of men engaged to hustle it on board without loss of time.”

“Yes, sir,” rejoined Jack, hurrying from the cabin.

Within a few minutes the entire atmosphere of the ship appeared to be charged with electricity and bustle. Black smoke volleyed from the stack and the roar of escaping steam soon came from the relief pipe. Anai and his companion, almost in tears at the thought of parting with the boys, were sent ashore, and final preparations made for the start.

Shortly before sun-down Raynor reported all ready in the engine room.

“Very well, captain,” said Mr. Jukes, “you may get up your anchor.”

The necessary orders were soon given and as the chains rattled home through the exhaust pipes the yacht swung her bow gracefully seaward. A big crowd of canoes and the small tramp, which had also taken up anchor, accompanied her some distance out to sea.

The natives raised their voices in melancholy songs as they paddled, and from time to time cried out:

“Come back, white men.”

Among them Jack and Raynor recognized Anai and the other young Kanaka. Both lads felt a genuine regret at leaving the brave, likeable young natives, but ahead of them they felt lay experiences which for the time being put all other emotions out of their minds. The Sea Gypsy, rushing ahead at top speed, soon left the rusty tramp, her consort, far behind. By dark only the summit of the island was visible on the horizon. It sank quickly from sight, and when the first stars appeared the Sea Gypsy was alone on the sea.

CHAPTER XVII. – AN ENCOUNTER AT BOMOBORI

It was on a clear day a little more than a week later that the lookout announced land dead ahead. All on board knew that it must be New Guinea, the wild and little known country where Mr. Jukes had confident hopes of finding his lost brother. Captain Sparhawk made an excellent “land-fall,” as sailors call it, and by night they came to anchor off Bomobori.

It was a beautiful scene. The waves dashed against a golden strand. Behind lay vast and mysterious forests, looking dark and uninviting in the evening light. Beyond the forests rose great mountains veiled in the bluish mist of the far distances. As darkness fell, the lights of Bomobori began to twinkle, casting reflections in the still waters of the harbor and river, the mouth of which latter could be seen to the north of the town.

“Well, I’m ready to go ashore,” remarked Raynor, as he joined Jack on deck at the conclusion of his duties in the engine-room. “It will certainly feel good to put foot on shore once more.”

“Indeed it will,” agreed Jack, warmly. “I’m anxious to get a look at New Guinea too. It’s a country about which very little is known – I mean so far as the interior is concerned.”

“Well, we are likely to have plenty of opportunity for exploration,” said Raynor. “I heard Mr. Jukes telling the captain that he believed, from what he had heard about ‘Bully’ Broom at Tahiti where he is well known, that the rascal has a secret hiding place in the interior somewhere.”

“Then it’s likely to take a long time to locate him,” said Jack. “This is a pretty big country and very densely wooded, with big mountains and rivers galore. I’m afraid it’s a needle and hay-stack job.”

“I expect Mr. Jukes means to get a clue in Bomobori, where Broom is probably well known,” hazarded Raynor.

“That is probably his idea,” said Jack. “Anyhow, he is not a man who would give up his purpose for any ordinary difficulties.”

It was decided not to leave the yacht till the morning. It can well be imagined then that the sleep of the boys that night was not as sound as usual. Both lay awake wondering what lay before them, and whether they would succeed or fail in the mission, for that evening Mr. Jukes had appointed them members of the expedition, and declared that he would rely upon them to the uttermost to aid him.

It was then that Jack had made a suggestion. The yacht was to be left in the harbor with a crew to guard her, but communication with her might be important, even necessary, if they were driven to some other part of the coast and were unable to return to Bomobori.

Jack’s suggestion was that, with the spare parts of the ship’s wireless, of which a big stock was carried, he should construct a portable radio apparatus by means of which they could at all times be in touch with the yacht. He had an idea that he could do this easily. Thurman, who had been conducting himself in an irreproachable manner, could be left in charge of the Sea Gypsy’s plant with perfect safety, the boy felt confident. And so, subject to his success with a portable set, it was arranged.

“This doesn’t appear to be much of a town,” observed Raynor, as they landed the next day, a little before noon, in a warm, gentle shower of rain such as frequently swept across the island at that time of the year.

“Well, you could hardly expect to find it a New York or London, you know,” rejoined Jack.

In truth Bomobori was a very fair specimen of a town in that section of the world. Along the water front, back of which squatted a line of tin-roofed warehouses, were moored native craft from up the river with bamboo cabins and great lattice sails that housed a whole family of natives. In spite of the rain it was warm and steamy, and a strange assortment of odors greeted their nostrils as the boat was run up to the principal dock and made fast.

The population was a very mixed one. Pallid white men, who looked like Frenchmen for the most part, rubbed elbows on the water front with Chinese, Lascars, Malays, Javanese and the wild-looking Papuans from the interior with their frizzed hair and ornamental cloaks of bird skins and long spears. Here and there a stout German in white ducks waddled by with a sun-helmeted Englishman. There appeared to be quite a lot of trading going on.

But they were anxious to hurry on to the hotel where Mr. Jukes hoped to begin the inquiries which he was sanguine would result in his finding his brother. The hostelry for which they were bound lay some squares back from the water front. It was situated, like most tropical hotels, in a park in which flowers and shrubs of all kinds grew luxuriantly, and bright colored birds flew with harsh cries, like (bright) jewels, among the brilliant foliage. It was a two-story affair in front of which a fountain plashed coolingly in the hot, heavy air. Verandas, upon which every room opened, completely surrounded each story.

They entered the office where the hand baggage they had brought was picked up by barefooted, white-garmented servants. Mr. Jukes was bending over the register writing his name and those of his party when Jack caught sight of somebody lounging in a bamboo chair in the reading room that nearly took his breath away.

“Well, if that isn’t – ”

“What is it, Jack?” asked Billy quickly.

“Look at that chap there reading a paper. It’s Donald Judson – Donald Judson, as sure as you’re a foot high!”

CHAPTER XVIII. – DONALD JUDSON AGAIN

Jack was right; the boy sitting in the reading room was indeed the formerly ne’er-do-well son of the man who had headed the plot to steal the naval code, though what he could be doing in Bomobori neither of the boys could guess. But so changed was he in appearance from the flashily-dressed, aggressively-conceited Donald Judson they had known, that for a moment both boys doubted the evidence of their eyes.