The Motor Rangers' Wireless Station

  “Unless we bub-bub-blow up,” said Ding-dong ominously.

  “Shucks, we haven’t gasolene enough even for that!”

  “And there’s none nearer than the island,” put in Nat. “Tell you what,boys, it’s tough on Mr. Jenkins, but there’s no help for it. We’ll haveto try and reach the island and then see what is best to be done.”

  “Well, there’s one good thing—we have a reputable physician on board nowinstead of that old Sartorius.”

  “Gug-gug-glory! I dur-dur-don’t believe he’s a dur-dur-doctor at all,”snorted Ding-dong.

  “Unless he’s a horse doctor,” quoth Joe, “and then any self-respectingsteed would kick those whiskers off him.”

  “All of which doesn’t help us in solving our problem,” struck in Nat.“We’re a good long distance from the island, but at that it’s nearerthan any other place where we could get gas, by my calculations. Can wemake it on what we’ve got in the tank?”

  “We’ve gug-gug-got to,” rejoined the _Nomad’s_ engineer with conviction.

  CHAPTER VII.

  ON “WIRELESS ISLAND.”

  The rugged outlines of Goat Island loomed over the _Nomad’s_ bow an houror more after the conversation just recorded. But the pace of thestalwart craft was pitifully slow compared to her usual rapid mode ofprogression. The entire ship’s company, some of them recruited undersuch strange circumstances, were on deck, with the exception, of course,of Mr. Jenkins and Dr. Sartorius. The latter had elected to remainbelow, but you may be sure that he was closely watched.

  It was growing rapidly dusk. Nat noted with increasing uneasiness theslow gait of the _Nomad_ and the still considerable distance to becovered by her before she reached her haven.

  “I’ll tell you,” he said to Joe, who stood beside him, “we’ll put awireless plant on the _Nomad_, and then in future if we get stuck we canat least flash word of our plight and get aid from some source orother.”

  “That’s a good idea,” agreed Joe; “if only we had such a plant on boardnow we could send out a message for the gasolene boat that supplies thefishing fleet and be all right in a jiffy.”

  But, fortunately for the boys, their troubles for the day at leastappeared now to be over. The _Nomad_ made her cove without furtherdifficulty, although, as Joe remarked, “there was hardly another turnleft in her.”

  The party landed in the dinghy which had been towed safely by its stouthawser. Mr. Jenkins, thanks to the care of Dr. Chalmers, showed signs ofrallying, and not long after he had been comfortably bestowed on a cotin the Motor Rangers’ hut he regained consciousness. Although the boyswere burning to ask questions which would aid in elucidating thepuzzling problem into which they had blundered, they were warned by Dr.Chalmers not to do so at the time.

  “Let us give him time to collect his thoughts and not pester him bytalking now,” he said. “Since I have heard your stories, I am just ascurious as you are to find out the truth of the matter, and just wherethis Dr. Sartorius fits into the puzzle; for I am sure that he is afactor, and no beneficent one, in the case.”

  * * * * *

  A little later Dr. Chalmers decided that it would not be necessary toremove the injured man to the mainland that night. In fact, he wasinclined to think that such a course might prove harmful. They all,therefore, determined to remain on the island all night. The boys wereperfectly willing to adopt this course. They were all dog tired by thestrenuous day which they had passed through, as were, indeed, all of theparty. Dr. Sartorius sat sullenly in one corner of the shanty all theevening, only speaking in monosyllables, but the boys did not troublethemselves about him. After a hearty supper, all hands turned in andslept the sleep of the exhausted till morning.

  The first thing when he awoke Nat looked around for their queer guest.He was not in the shanty, and, leaving the others still asleep, Nat setout on a tour of investigation. Somehow he deeply mistrusted andsuspected this black-bearded stranger, and when he found him missing heat once surmised that all was not well. He bitterly regretted that theyhad not openly voiced their suspicions the night before, or at leastkept a watch on the man. But it was too late now.

  Full of apprehension, but of what he did not know, Nat hastened to thecove. The boat in which they had come ashore was gone, and, worse still,the _Nomad_ was missing from her moorings!

  “The scoundrel!” cried Nat indignantly. “This is some of his work, I’llbet a dollar. Oh, what wouldn’t I give to get my hands on him! But whatare we going to do now? Here we are practically marooned on this island.Thank goodness we have the wireless; otherwise we’d be in a bad fix.Nobody comes near this place but fishermen, and they don’t put infrequent appearances.”

  As he hurried back to the hut, burning with indignation, Nat formed atheory concerning the disappearance of the small boat and the largercraft. It was plain that Sartorius wished to get ashore without landingwith the party. Nat believed, in the light of recent events, that theman had a notion that the boys meant to communicate their suspicions tothe authorities. But how he had succeeded in running the _Nomad_ aloneand single-handed was a mystery which was not solved till later.

  When he burst into the hut, full of the story of the vanishing of thetwo boats, Nat found Dr. Chalmers bandaging Mr. Jenkins’ head andplacing fresh dressings upon it. The bandages had been extemporized froma stock of clean linen the boys had along with them. The group withinthe hut was listening eagerly to something that the injured man wassaying; but Nat’s news, which he blurted out as soon as he entered,quite drew away attention from their wounded guest, whose hurt, ittranspired, was nothing more than a bad scalp wound.

  “Boys, the boats have gone!” was the way Nat announced his news.

  The others stared at him only half understandingly.

  “Gone!” echoed Joe, the first to find his voice.

  “Gug-gug-gone!” sputtered Ding-dong.

  “Do you mean they have been stolen?” demanded Dr. Chalmers.

  “That’s just what I do mean, sir.” And Nat proceeded to impart all thathad occurred, not forgetting, of course, the disappearance of Dr.Sartorius.

  “Well, this is a nice kettle of fish,” blurted out Joe angrily. “Oh, butweren’t we the chumps to take that fellow on board! I wish we’d left himto continue his way to Mexico, and let it go at that!”

  “Too late now to cry over spilt milk,” declared Nat. He was going to saymore when Mr. Jenkins, who had been listening to their talk,interrupted.

  “Did I hear you mention the name of Sartorius?” he inquired in a feeblevoice, although one that vibrated with a keen interest.

  “Yes,” said Nat, and rapidly told how they came to include the name ofthe black-bearded man in their conversation.

  “And he was here and is gone?” demanded Mr. Jenkins so excitedly thatDr. Chalmers had to beg him to calm himself.

  The others stared at Mr. Jenkins. His hands clenched and unclenched.

  “Oh, the precious scoundrel!” he choked out; and then added quickly,“Look in my coat and see if you can find some papers, a thick bundleheld together with an india rubber band!”

  Then, and not till then, did the Motor Rangers recall what the ship’sdoctor had told them about a slashed coat. In the rush of eventsfollowing the start of the return run, this fact had completely slippedtheir minds. A glance at the coat showed a slash over the breast pocket.Inside there were no such papers as the injured man described. Thepocket was empty, in fact.

  Mr. Jenkins groaned when he heard this.

  “Oh, why didn’t I recover consciousness sooner?” he exclaimed, lyingback weakly. “That rascal has taken the result of years of work andthought with him. I am ruined!”

  Dr. Chalmers happened to have with him, in a sort of pocket emergencycase, some soothing tablets. He crushed one of these in a tin cup ofwater and gave it to Mr. Jenkins. In a few seconds he spoke to him in aquiet tone:

  “Suppose you tell us wh
at you know about this man Sartorius, and how youcame to be on the same ship, and also how you met with your accident—ifit was an accident.”

  “It was not an accident,” rejoined Mr. Jenkins emphatically, “the manSartorius—who is not a doctor, but only styles himself such—came behindme on the companionway and shoved me so suddenly that I lost my balanceand fell headlong. I turned in time to see him, but not to save myself.I had been on guard against attack, but not against such an attack asthat. Then, having rendered me unconscious by the fall, he robbed me ofthe papers I have mentioned, for which he had tracked me across thecontinent.”

  “Did you know that he was on board the _Iroquois_?” asked Nat, while theothers formed an interested circle.

  “Not till the ship had sailed. Then I encountered him suddenly in apassageway. From that moment I was on my guard, but, as you know, I didnot succeed in warding off the attack I apprehended. In fact, I neverdreamed that it would come in that way.”

  “What were these papers he was so anxious to get hold of?” asked thedoctor; and then, as the other hesitated, “You may speak withconfidence. I am sure that no one here will disclose anythingconfidential you may tell us.”

  Mr. Jenkins scanned all their faces eagerly. It seemed as if he wantedto satisfy himself that what the doctor had said was right, that hecould rely on them to retain his secret.

  “Gentlemen,” he said in low tones, “those papers were the plans of aninvention which I had just brought to perfection after years of laborand research. You have heard, of course, of the reward offered by theGovernment to the man who could perfect a dirigible torpedo? That is tosay, a torpedo that would be under the control of the operator who sentit on its death mission, from the moment it left the side of the shipthat launched it to the instant that it exploded.”

  The boys nodded. They all read several scientific papers and magazinesand had, of course, heard of the reward that Mr. Jenkins mentioned.

  “Well, I had invented and perfected such a projectile,” continued Mr.Jenkins, his eyes glowing like two coals in his pale cheeks as hetalked.

  “What, you had invented a torpedo which could be governed from a ship’sside and absolutely controlled by the operator?” Nat could not helpasking. The thing seemed fantastic, improbable; he even thought thatpossibly the man’s mind might be wandering. But before Mr. Jenkins couldreply, Dr. Chalmers struck in with an exclamation.

  “Pardon me, but you are not the Professor Jonas Jenkins, late instructorof physics and chemistry at Columbia University, New York City, whowithdrew from the faculty to perfect some experimental work, the natureof which was kept a profound secret?”

  “I am,” was the quiet reply, “and that experimental work was identicalwith the plans and papers of which I have just been robbed.”

  “Namely, a dirigible torpedo wholly under control at all times?”

  “Yes, sir. My torpedo was governed by a principle entirely novel in suchlines. Torpedoes have been experimented with which have been governed bywires, at best a clumsy and inefficient device. My torpedo wascontrolled by a new principle entirely—namely, by wireless!”

  “Ber-ber-ber-by wer-wer-wer-wireless!” sputtered Ding-dong eagerly.

  “Just so. You understand wireless?” inquired Professor Jenkins.

  “A lul-lul-little bub-bub-bit,” stammered Ding-dong.

  “We’ve got a plant here, which Ding-dong—William Bell, I mean—erected,”struck in Nat.

  “A wireless here on this island?”

  The question came from the injured man in anxious, almost quaveringtones.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Then we’ve a chance to head off that rascal yet!”

  Mr. Jenkins raised himself on his cot.

  “Can’t you send out a message to all coast stations to alarm theauthorities to be on the lookout for the man when he lands? He canhardly escape notice in that boat.”

  “Jumping ginger snaps! The very thing!” cried Nat. “What a fine lot ofdummies we were not to think of that before; but I guess losing theboats turned us all topsy-turvy. Get busy, Ding-dong!”

  But Ding-dong was already at his instruments. He flashed on his sendingcurrent and presently the whine and crackle of the urgent message “_ToAll Stations_” was audible even in the living hut through the open doorof the wireless shed.

  CHAPTER VIII.

  AN AERIAL APPEAL.

  While Ding-dong was sending his wireless appeal flashing and cracklinginto the ether, Dr. Chalmers turned to Professor Jenkins again.

  “You have not yet told us what connection this man Sartorius has withthe case?” he hinted.

  “Sartorius is no more his name than it is mine,” was the rejoinder. “Hisright name is Miles Minory, and he was dismissed from the Universityshortly before I left for being engaged in some shady financialtransactions. He had worked as my assistant once, and in some waylearned of my secret researches. Of a singularly acute mind, heperceived at once the financial possibilities of the device. Afterapproaching some capitalists, he came to me with a proposition to sellout, he, of course, to get a large reward from the capitalists forpersuading me to do so. I refused, and told him that I would market mywireless torpedo, when completed, in my own way. Not long after, myrooms were broken into in my absence and my papers tampered with; but,luckily, long before this I had removed the important ones to a place ofsafety, knowing Minory’s character and that he was likely to adoptcrooked methods when others failed to gain his end.

  “From time to time I became unpleasantly aware that I was being watched.The secret surveillance got on my nerves, but I persisted with my workuntil I perfected it. I carried out my last experiments in a remotecoast town on the north shore of Long Island. One night I was attackedon my way from my experiment station to my home. Minory did not appearin this outrage, but I knew he instigated it. As in his other efforts toobtain my papers, he failed in this also.

  “But it decided me that the vicinity of New York was too dangerous aplace for me to carry on my work. I was not sure even that my life wassafe if I persisted in holding out against the ring that wanted to seizemy invention. In this dilemma I turned to a friend who owns a smallranch in Mexico, not far from Mazatlan. He offered me freely the use ofthis secluded spot for as long a time as I wished to use it, and Ijumped at the offer. Without loss of time I booked passage for SanFrancisco through a third party, in order to throw my enemies off mytrail. When I embarked on the _Iroquois_ it was with a light heart, but,as I told you, I was not long left undisturbed in my fancied security.Although that beard Minory wears is as false as the name he traveledunder, I knew him even in the disguise he had adopted. I was on guard,but—well, the rest you know.”

  During the recital of this remarkable story they had listened without aword of interruption. Now, however, everyone had questions to ask, allof which Mr. Jenkins readily answered. We shall not detail theconversation here, as Professor Jenkins’ narrative as already set downappears fully to cover it. In the midst of the talk, and while Joe wasfixing up the best breakfast he could on the hut stove, Ding-dong, hisface red with excitement, came running in.

  “I’ve sent out a full description of the m-m-man and the two b-b-boatsto all coast stations within reach,” he exclaimed. “But tell me onething, professor, could this Sus-ar-Sartorius run a mum-mum-motor boat?”

  “I don’t know,” was the rejoinder, “but one thing I can tell you, he isa slick enough customer to be able to do almost anything.”

  “From the way he fixed that carburetor and those plugs it certainlyappears that way,” commented Joe, looking up from the frying pan; “whydo you suppose he wanted to delay the _Nomad_, anyhow?”

  “To mum-mum-make a further sus-sus-search through the Professor’strunks, I guess,” was Ding-dong’s reply.

  “What! He was looking in my trunks?” cried Mr. Jenkins.

  “Yes, sir; Ding-dong caught him at it,” put in Joe.

  “The cunning scoun
drel! He is cleverer than even I thought,” cried theprofessor. “In one of my trunks was a working model of the wirelesstorpedo. If he secured that it would be of invaluable aid to whoever hadthe plans. In fact, without it as a key they would have some difficultyin following out my calculations and designs.”

  “So that was the reason he was so anxious to come ashore with us!” criedNat, a light breaking in on him; for it would have appeared morereasonable to suppose that, having rifled the professor of his papers,the thief would desire to keep on the high seas. “I see it all now. Heknew that your trunks would be shipped ashore with you, Professor, andin some way he also knew that they held what he hadn’t yet obtained, theworking model. He must have calculated that on the way between the_Iroquois_ and the shore he would have time to ransack your baggage andget hold of it.”

  “And his desire to lay hands on it gave him nerve enough to tamper withthe engine and endanger his own life as well as ours in that gale,”supplemented Joe.

  “It is all as clear as day now,” cried Nat; and then in a chagrinedvoice he muttered, “What a pack of boneheads we’ve been! Just think, wehad him right in our power and he’s slipped through our fingers like somuch water!”

  “Never mind,” consoled Dr. Chalmers, “you couldn’t very well have actedon what knowledge you had up to the time that Professor Jenkinsrecovered consciousness. I think, in fact, that——Hark!”

  It was Ding-dong’s “wireless alarm” clanging out the call for GoatIsland.

  “On the jump! Run like a jack-rabbit now, Ding!” cried Nat excitedly.“This may be news of the rascal!”