The Ocean Wireless Boys on War Swept Seas

“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.

This was the condition of affairs when Jack came on duty accompanied by Bill Raynor, who had agreed to share his lonely vigil, for, from being one of the most sought out places on the ship, the wireless room was now deserted by the passengers, for strict orders had been given against the sending or receiving of any wireless messages lest the watching cruisers should get definite information of the liner’s whereabouts and pounce upon her.

There was little for Jack to do under this “ukase” but to lean back restfully in his chair, with the receivers over his ears on the lookout for what might be coming through the air. He and Raynor chatted, discussing the wild flight of the “gold ship,” intermittently, as the hours passed. But suddenly Jack became alert. Out in the dark, fog-ridden night, two ships were talking through the air. They were, as he learned after a moment of listening, the Caledonian of the English Anchor Line and the Mersey, which also flew the British flag.

The young wireless man listened for a time and then “grounded” with a grave face.

“What’s up now?” asked Raynor, noticing this. “If it’s the cruisers, I don’t mind, for only the Germans and Austrians would be held as prisoners. I’d kind of like to be ‘captured,’ as a novelty.”

“This trouble’s worse than cruisers,” rejoined Jack, in sober tones.

“What is it then?”

“Icebergs,” said Jack, sententiously.

“Icebergs at this time of the year?” asked Bill, incredulously, for bergs are rare in August on the usual steamer lanes, though occasionally seen.

“That’s what,” rejoined Jack; “the Caledonian was telling the Mersey. She says they are sown thick to the northwest of us. You’ve got to remember that we’re a long way to the north of the usual steamer tracks now, so it’s not surprising that the ‘growlers’ are about.”

“No, but it’s mighty unpleasant,” said Raynor. “What are you going to do?”

“Tell the captain about it at once,” said Jack, decisively, rising and putting on his cap.

“I hope he puts on the brakes when he hears about it,” commented Bill. “I’m not particularly nervous, but going full speed ahead through the fog into a field of bergs doesn’t just exactly feel good.”

“I’m only glad that the passengers don’t know about it,” said Jack. “They’re scary enough now. If they knew about the bergs, I firmly believe some of them would have to be put in strait jackets.”

“Yes, about the only cool ones on board are the Americans and the English,” declared Bill. “I heard to-day that a party of American millionaires got together in the smoking room and laid plans to make an offer to buy the ship and run her across anyhow.”

“That sounds like the American spirit all right,” chuckled Jack. “What became of the idea?”

“The captain told them the ship was not for sale,” said Bill, “even if they offered to throw in the millions in the specie room.”

Jack found Captain Rollok and his officers in anxious consultation in the former’s cabin.

“Ha, so you haf the news, is it?” demanded the captain, as Jack entered.

“Yes, and not very good news, I’m sorry to say,” said Jack. “The Caledonian has just been telling the Mersey that there are icebergs ahead.”

The officers exchanged glances. They all looked at the captain. Evidently some orders were expected, with the greatest peril the sea holds lying ahead of the racing vessel.

One of them, – Second Officer Muller, who had the watch, – put his anxiety into words.

“Is it that you will change the course or reduce speed, Captain?” he inquired.

The big, bearded captain turned on him like a flash. He raised his massive fist and brought it down on the table with a crash that bade fair to split the wood.

“We keep on as we are going!” he exclaimed. “Rather than let this ship get into the hands of the English, I’ll send her to the bottom.”

“But the passengers!” exclaimed Jack; “surely – ”

“Herr Ready,” said the captain, “I am in command of this ship. The orders are full speed ahead.”

CHAPTER V

A CLOSE SHAVE

Bill Raynor received Jack’s news with a shrug.

“I’m not surprised, to tell you the truth,” he said. “I’ve met a good many Germans in the course of my sea-going years, and that’s usually their idea, – rather sink the ship than give it up.”