The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Lost Liner

“What has happened?” asked Jack.

“No time explain details. Hurry! Hurry! – ”

Jack tried to get the unseen operator once more, but a silence that was far more eloquent than words alone greeted his efforts. He turned to see the captain, in his white uniform and gold-laced cap, standing behind him.

“What is this S.O.S., Ready?” he demanded. “What craft is in distress?”

“An airship, sir. The Adventurer, bound from New Orleans for Havana, Cuba.”

“By Neptune! I recall now reading that two aviators were going to make such a foolhardy attempt.”

“What kind of an air-craft is she, sir? Do you recall?”

“Why, one of those flying-boats, as they are called, I believe.”

“A big aëroplane fitted with a boat’s hull?”

“That’s the idea. But did they give you their position?”

Jack handed over the figures.

“Here they are, sir. But the current from the drifting airship was so weak that I cannot be absolutely certain as to their accuracy.”

“Well, we’ll have to take them for what they are worth,” said the captain, scanning them.

“Roughly, they are on our course, sir,” ventured Jack.

“Yes, we can almost make a landfall on them if you got the positions right. I’ll have full speed ahead signaled. Poor fellows, their plight must be desperate!”

He hastened off to give the necessary orders, while Jack went back to his instruments; but, although he tried with all his might to get another whisper, he could hear nothing.

Either the wrecked airship had gone to the bottom, or else, water having reached her storage batteries, she could no longer send out word.

But Jack raised another ship, – the City of Mexico of the Vera Cruz line.

“What’s biting you?” the flippant operator inquired.

“Just got word that a wrecked airship is floating about on the sea,” flashed back Jack, and gave the latitude and longitude.

“Why, we’ll be there almost as soon as you,” was the reply.

“All right, let’s make it a race,” called Jack. “It is one for a good cause.”

“Surest thing you know. See you later.”

The City of Mexico’s wireless man cut off. The third officer came into the wireless room.

“Ready, the old man wants you to make out a bulletin for the passengers. They’ll go wild over this.”

Jack quickly typed off a bulletin.

“Shortly before noon, in communication with wrecked and drifting flying-boat Adventurer. She is about twenty miles to the Southwest. We are hurrying at top speed to her assistance and should be there in a little over an hour’s time.

“Ready, Chief Operator, S. S. Tropic Queen.”

The excitement that followed the posting of this notice on the bulletin board at the head of the saloon stairs may be imagined by those who have passed long, dreamy, uneventful days at sea, when even the sight of a distant sail provides all manner of topics of conversation.

But now they were steaming at top speed toward the hulk of a flying-boat – that is, provided she was still on the surface. The ship buzzed and hummed with vibrant excitement. Passengers lined the rails, and some of the more excitable even tried to swarm into the rigging, from which exalted positions they were swiftly ejected.

Black smoke poured from the Tropic Queen’s funnels, and the speed of her accelerated engines caused a humming vibration to run through her frame like the twanging of a taut fiddle string. On the bridge, white-uniformed officers stood, with glasses in hand, all on the alert to catch the first black speck on the sparkling sea which might reveal the location of the wrecked air adventurers.

Forward, on the forepeak and in the crow’s nest, lookouts had been doubled. And excitement was added to the race to the rescue when it became known that the City of Mexico was speeding from the southward on the same errand of mercy.

CHAPTER XVII – A DERELICT OF THE SKIES

“What a wonderful thing wireless is!” remarked Sam, as the two young operators stood gazing from the upper deck where their “coop” was perched.

“Yes, if that flying-boat hadn’t carried even the small, weak equipment she has, it would have been all off with them,” agreed Jack; “that is, if they are not at the bottom now.”

“Oh, I hope not!” cried Sam.

“Same here. But still, the sudden way that message cut off looked odd.”

The boys said little more, but kept their attention concentrated, waiting for the first sharp, quick cry that would announce that the derelict of the skies had been sighted. It was nerve-racking, the waiting for that shout.

It seemed that hours had passed, when suddenly there came a sharp bark from the bows. A keen-eyed salt stationed there had seen something even before the officers on the bridge had sighted it through their binoculars.

“What is it, my man?” hailed Captain McDonald through a speaking trumpet.

“Can’t just make out, sir. It might be a big whale, but it looks to me like a boat.”

The officers scrutinized the object pointed out through their glasses. It lay some miles from the ship, spread out darkly on the blue, gently-heaving sea.

“Can you see any human beings on board it?” demanded Captain McDonald anxiously of Mr. Metcalf.

“No, sir, I – yes, I do, too. One man. He is standing up, waving.”

“Give me the glasses, Metcalf.”

The captain took the binoculars.

“Yes, you’re right; there’s a man on board. But how long he will keep afloat, I don’t know. Lucky the sea is calm.”

“You may well say that, sir. In my opinion, whatever he is standing on is due to sink before long.”

“My opinion, too. But hullo, what is that coming up over the horizon there?”

“That smoke, sir? That must be the City of Mexico.”