The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific

  "Now I'll have to get help," said the boy to himself. "The captain's gota medicine chest and bandages, but we have no doctor. I'll go and findthe skipper."

  It was a hard task for Jack to stagger across thatbounding, reeling floor, carrying the limp and unconscious Raynor.]

  Out upon the dripping decks, over which a wave crest would every now andthen curl, with a roar like that of a waterfall, Jack once more emerged.Clawing at hand-holds and desperately clinging on now and then when awave threatened to tear loose his grip, he wormed his way forward. As hereached the bridge deck, he heard a thunderous roar forward, and the_Sea Gypsy_, as if she had been freed of a burden, made a sudden plungeskyward, with her bow pointing almost straight at the obscured heavens.

  "There goes the fore-deck load of coal," thought Jack, as he made hisway to where, in the lee of the pilot house some obscure figures stoodhuddled. Ten minutes later he and the gaunt form of Captain Sparhawkwere bending over Raynor, as he lay white and still, in his bunk. Withrough skill the captain dressed the wound.

  "It's a wonder that Mr. Jukes wouldn't have brought a doctor along," hemuttered. "He's carrying a rapid-fire gun, so why not sawbones, too?"

  "Where is Mr. Jukes?" demanded Jack suddenly.

  "In his cabin, I guess. I haven't seen him since this ocean tantrumbroke out."

  "The--the rapid-fire gun you spoke about?" asked Jack.

  The other looked at him in some confusion.

  "Confound my habit of talking to myself," he exclaimed. "Did you hearthat?"

  "I couldn't help it," apologised Jack. "Are we going to fight any one?"

  "You must ask Mr. Jukes that," answered the captain, non-committally."It's up to him to tell what he wants to. All I know is that there isone on board. Maybe he brought it along to shoot clay pigeons with.Maybe not. I don't know."

  "Well," he added, "I've got to get for'ard again. I guess our youngship-mate will do now. He had a nasty crack though. Both of you arelucky you're not in Davy Jones' locker."

  All through the rest of that tempestuous night Jack sat by his chum,dozing off at times and then waking with a start to hear the uproar ofthe hurricane as they struggled through it. The dawn showed a troubledsea, leaping at the yacht as though to engulf her. The wind almostflattened Jack against the deck house as, Raynor having sunk into a deepsleep after an interval of consciousness, the young wireless man set outto see what chance there was for breakfast.

  The companionway to the dining saloon on the deck below was in the afterpart of the ship. As he was about to descend an unusually big wavelifted the _Sea Gypsy_ dizzily skyward, and then rushed her downward.There was a heave and a crash from the stern and Jack saw the after deckload of coal vanish like a black avalanche, to be swallowed up in themaw of the sea.

  "Worse, and more of it," he muttered, as some of the crew who hadnarrowly escaped being overwhelmed, set up a shout; "this will be badnews to give poor old Billy."

  CHAPTER IV.--THE DERELICT.

  Two days later the hurricane had blown itself out. The storm-stressedcrew were set to work putting things to rights and the yacht put on moreof her normal appearance. But she had been sadly battered for all that.Two boats were stove in, ventilators smashed and stanchions bent andtwisted by the fury of the waves.

  The flat, oily sea that succeeded the wild turmoil of the hurricane,heaved gently without a ripple as Jack and Raynor, the latter recoveredbut still wearing a bandage round his head, stood looking over the railinto the glassy waters.

  So transparent was the ocean that, under them, they could see great fishswimming about slowly and lazily, as if life held no hurry for them. Nowand then a great shark glided by, nosing about the ship for scraps. Hissharp, triangular dorsal fin stuck from his back like a blue steel knifecutting the surface and glistening like a thing of metal. About thesegreat tigers of the deep, two smaller fish usually hovered. These werepilot fish, the strange sea-creatures that invariably accompany sharks,and are supposed by sailors to pilot them to their prey.

  Then there were queer-looking "gonies," with their flat heads wingingtheir way above the water and every now and then dropping, with a screamand a splash, in a group of a dozen to fight furiously over somedrifting morsel. After these tussles they appeared to "run" over thewater to give their heavy, awkward bodies a good start upward. Then,having attained a certain height, down they would flop again, likeweights shooting through the air, hitting the water with a heavy splashand sliding, with a white wake behind them, for some feet.

  Schools of nautilus, too, gave them something to look at as the delicatelittle creatures, with their thin, membranous sails set, drifted byunder the gentle breeze that hardly ruffled the water.

  "Doesn't look much as if this ocean could ever have kicked up theructions it did, eh, Billy?" remarked Jack, after a long silence.

  "It does not," replied Raynor, with a rueful grin, "but I owe it thiscrack on the head."

  "And the loss of that coal," chimed in Jack. "No wonder you look glum,old fellow. We'll never make port on what's below."

  "Not a chance of it," was the rejoinder, "about all we can do is to usethe sails if the worst comes to the worst."

  "Well, as we don't appear to have any port in view, and nothing to dobut to keep on drifting about like another Flying Dutchman, I don't seethat it much matters where we fetch up," commented Jack, with someirritation.

  It was at that instant that there came an interruption. The voice of thesea-man at the look-out forward broke the spell.

  "Steamer, ho!" he shouted.

  "Where away?" came a hoarse voice from the bridge, that of Mr. Jolliffe,the first officer.

  "Three p'ints on the starbo'd bow."

  "Let's go forward and have a look," suggested Jack. "You're not on watchfor some time yet."

  "I'm with you," agreed Raynor. "Anything for variety's sake. Wonder whatship it is?"

  "Too far off to make out yet," said Jack, as, far off, they could justabout see, by straining their eyes, a small dark speck on the distanthorizon.

  "I don't see any smoke," said Raynor. "Perhaps it's a sailing ship afterall."

  "We'll know before long," was Jack's reply.

  During an interval in which the _Sea Gypsy_ drew steadily toward thecraft that had, by this time, excited the attention of all on board, theboys saw Mr. Jukes emerge from his cabin and take his place on thebridge beside Captain Sparhawk. That bronzed mariner handed themillionaire his glasses and Mr. Jukes' rather fat, pallid face took onan unwonted hue of excitement as he handed them back.

  The boys standing on the main deck just below the bridge heard the ownerof the yacht putting sharp questions. He showed more animation than hehad at any time during the voyage. The sight of the other craft appearedto affect him curiously.

  "She's a schooner, Sparhawk."

  "Undoubtedly, sir."

  "But although she has her canvas set she is making no way."

  "That appears to be correct. But there is little wind. Odd though thatshe doesn't signal us."

  Mr. Jukes snatched up the glasses again from the shelf where he had laidthem down.

  "Blessed if I can make out a soul on board her, Sparhawk," he exclaimedpresently. "Here, try what you can do."

  He handed the binoculars over to the master of the _Sea Gypsy_. CaptainSparhawk took a prolonged observation. When he, in turn, laid theglasses down his thin, mahogany-hued face bore a puzzled look.

  "It's queer, sir, but I don't seem to be able to make out a living souleither."

  "A derelict, perhaps?"

  "Possibly," assented the captain, and no more was said as, with all eyesfixed on the strange schooner, the _Sea Gypsy_ drew nearer. The boyscould now make out every detail of the other craft. She was atrig-looking schooner, painted black, with a flush deck except for herafter house and a small structure astern of the fore-mast. Her canvaswas set but it flapped idly in the light breeze as she swung to and froon the Pacific swells. No guiding hand could be seen at her wheel
. Not asoul was visible on her deserted decks.

  There is no more melancholy sight than a sea derelict, the aimless preyof winds and currents, drifting sometimes for years over the tracklesswastes of the ocean. The boys felt something of this as all doubt as tohuman occupancy of the schooner vanished.

  "Deserted, I reckon," hazarded Jack. "Although her canvas appearsperfect, her hull sound and----"

  He broke off sharply. From the abandoned ship there had suddenly come asound which, under the circumstances, was particularly depressing andeven startling.

  It was the measured tolling of a bell, like a funeral knell.

  CHAPTER V.--THE "CENTURION."

  "Hark!" cried Raynor, as the two boys exchanged glances.

  "I have it," exclaimed Jack the next instant. "That's only the tollingof the ship's bell as the schooner rolls on the sea."

  "My, it gave me a jump though," admitted Raynor. "Hullo, they areslowing down. Must be going to board her."

  "Evidently," agreed Jack, as the _Sea Gypsy's_ propeller revolved moreand more slowly.

  Captain Sparhawk descended from the bridge. The ponderous form of Mr.Jukes followed him. The millionaire's face bore a look of strangeexcitement.

  "Of course that can't be the schooner," the boys heard him say to thecaptain, "but still I can't pass it unsearched."

  His eye fell on the boys.

  "Lads, we are going to board that schooner and try to find out somethingabout her," he said. "Do you want to go along?"

  These were the first words the boys had had with their employer in somedays. Of course both jumped at the chance, and before many minutespassed, one of the yacht's remaining boats was being sent over the seaat a fast clip toward the derelict. Close inspection showed theschooner's condition not to be as good as it had seemed at a distance.Her paint was blistered and the oakum calking was spewing out of hersun-dried seams like Spanish moss on an aged tree. Her sails weremildewed and torn in many places and her ropes bleached and frayed.Mingling now with the incessant, melancholy tolling of the bell, camethe monotonous creak of her booms and gaffs as they swung rhythmicallyto and fro.

  No name appeared on her bow, although blurred tracings of white paintshowed that one had once been inscribed there. But there was ayellow-painted figurehead; a stern, Roman-nosed bust of a man,apparently intended for an emperor or a warrior.

  "We'll row round the stern and take a look at her name," decided CaptainSparhawk. "We'll have to climb aboard from the other side anyway. Thereis no means of scrambling up from this."

  The boat was turned and rowed under the graceful stern of the derelict.On it, in bold, raised letters, surrounded by a fanciful design, stoodout, in fading colors, the lost craft's name.

  "_Centurion_, San Francisco," read out Jack, with an odd thrill. Therewas a sudden exclamation from Mr. Jukes, who had not yet been able tomake out more than the first few letters.

  "What's that?" he exclaimed, in a voice so sharp and tense that the boysturned and stared at him, as did the boat's crew and Captain Sparhawk.

  Jack repeated his answer and, to his astonishment, Mr. Jukes, theiron-jawed, self-possessed business man, who had never shown signs ofpossessing any more emotion than a stone, suddenly sunk his head in hishands with a groan.

  "Too late after all," they heard him mutter unsteadily. But when heagain raised his face, although it was ashy pale, he appeared to havemastered himself.

  "Well, we've reached the end of our journey, Sparhawk," he remarked in avoice that he rendered steady by an apparent effort. "Let us go onboard, however, and see if we can find some trace of the unfortunates ofthe _Centurion_."

  The captain looked as if he would have liked to ask a great manyquestions, but something in Mr. Jukes' face rendered him silent. He gavethe necessary orders and the boat was pulled round to the other side ofthe schooner. Here they were glad to find some dilapidated ropesdangling which afforded a means of getting on board. Two sailors, afterfirst testing their weight-bearing qualities, scrambled up them likemonkeys, and, under the captain's orders, went hunting for a Jacob'sladder which would support Mr. Jukes' ponderous weight. One was foundand lowered, and soon all stood on the silent decks which for so longhad not echoed the footsteps of a human being.

  "Away forward and muzzle that bell, some of you," ordered the captainbriskly. "The sound of the thing gets on my nerves."

  "Send them all forward," supplemented Mr. Jukes. "Tell them to searchthe forecastle, anything to keep them busy. We will examine the cabinsand officers' quarters."

  "Are we to accompany you, sir?" asked Jack hesitatingly.

  For a fraction of a second the millionaire seemed plunged in thought.Then he arrived at one of his characteristic quick decisions.

  "Why not?" he asked, half to himself it seemed. "Later I shall havesomething to say to all of you. You have wondered at the object of thiscruise, no doubt?"

  Captain Sparhawk nodded gravely.

  "I have guessed you had some great end to serve in it, Mr. Jukes," hesaid.

  "An end which has now been reached, I fear," said the millionairesolemnly. "But come, let us proceed with our examination."

  CHAPTER VI.--A MYSTERY OF THE SEAS.

  At first glance Jack saw that the main cabin of the _Centurion_ wasfitted up with a luxuriousness not common to mere trading schooners. Asilver hanging lamp of elaborate design, silk curtains at the sternports, book-cases filled with handsomely bound volumes and the thickcarpets on the floor, clearly indicated that whoever had occupied it hadbeen above the class of the rough and ready South Sea trader.

  In one corner stood a desk as handsome in its appointments as the restof the furniture. But it had been roughly dealt with. The front had beensmashed in, drawers pulled out and papers and documents scattered aboutall over the cabin floor. The door to a sleeping cabin leading off themain apartment was open. Within was the same disorder. Even mattresseshad been ripped open in a hunt for something, the nature of which theboys could not guess.

  Mr. Jukes hastily rummaged through the contents of the desk, selectingsome papers, casting aside others as worthless, and gathered up on hishands and knees those on the floor. Then every cabin was searched and ineach the millionaire took a few papers, but the look of anxiety on hisface did not change, and the boys judged he had not found what he was insearch of.

  "Not a solitary clue," he exclaimed with a heavy sigh as, dust-coveredand perspiring from his exertions, he sank down at the long dining tablein the main cabin. For a time he appeared lost in thought and the othersstood about silently. To Jack it was almost awe-inspiring, to see thisover-mastering man of affairs, who bullied whole corporations into hisway of thinking, sitting there in the cabin of the derelict schoonerutterly at a loss, and apparently defeated. At length Mr. Jukes spoke.His first words were a surprise:

  "I suppose you all have heard of my brother, Jerushah Jukes?" he asked.

  "The traveler and explorer?" asked Captain Sparhawk. "I guess every onein America knows of him, Mr. Jukes."

  Paying no attention to the captain's reply, the millionaire went on.

  "The papers reported some months ago that he had set out for CentralAfrica."

  "I read the account," said Jack, "but----"

  Mr. Jukes waved his hand. The boy fell into an abashed silence; in asecond the millionaire had changed once more from a crushed, defeatedhuman being into Jacob Jukes, millionaire and king of commerce.

  "He did not go to Africa," he said. "Instead, his destination was theSouth Pacific. He chartered this schooner, the _Centurion_, and the lastI heard of him was when he set sail from San Francisco. If no news ofhim was received within a certain time I promised him to come in searchof him. You see," he added with a simplicity new from him, "he was myyounger brother and I promised my mother on her death-bed always to lookafter him."

  There was a pause. In the silence of the long-deserted cabin they couldhear the dismal creak of the neglected rudder and the bang-banging ofthe swingin
g spars above.

  "We were poor then, miserably poor, and my mother never lived to see therise of our fortunes, for as I advanced in business I helped my brotherup, too. But his bent was not for finance. He had a streak of theadventurous in him. But I put it to paying purpose. I seldom lose on anyventure." Unconsciously as it seemed, the hard vein in Jacob Jukes hadcropped out again. "I decided to put my brother on a paying basis. Theresults were good. Concessions in South America, gold mines in Alaska,and certain South African enterprises were put through, largely throughhis instrumentality.

  "And now, to get down to the present time. The _Centurion_ was charteredto obtain for Mrs. Jukes, who has a craze for expensive and rarejewelry, the 'Tear of the Sea,' the most famous pearl of the South Seas.I had obtained information of its whereabouts in the PomoutouArchipelago through means which are not important to relate here. Ithought that an expedition to purchase the 'Tear of the Sea' and,incidentally, other pearls, would be a good investment and keep mybrother, who was getting restless, in occupation.

  "In the meantime, however, a dishonest employee managed to get wind ofwhat was about to take place and furnished the information to a firm ofEuropean jewelers with agents in New York and all over the world. Fromthat moment, I rushed through the _Centurion's_ expedition with allpossible speed, for I knew the conditions of competition in the Pacific.There is little more law among pearl traders than there is north offifty-three. My brother knew this as well as I did and realised thenecessity for haste. Moreover, we knew that the European firm wasanxious to obtain, for a royal customer, the very pearl that I wasafter. In addition, this firm was known as one of the most unscrupulousin gaining its ends, and maintained, in the South Pacific, a system ofspies and bullies which brought most of the pearl hunters' prizes intotheir hands. Ugly stories have been told of their methods of gainingtheir ends--and--and I am afraid the fate of the _Centurion_ will haveto be added to the black list."