John Goldfrap - The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific

Twenty days out from San Francisco in the vast, heaving desert of the sea, twenty days of storm, sunshine and calm, the Sea Gypsy , the great white yacht of Jacob Jukes, head of the big Atlantic and Pacific Shipping Combine, was making her way lazily through the dreamy South Seas. The vessel was capable of great speed, being known as one of the fastest craft of her kind. But she was bound on a mission which might take a long time to consummate, and economy of coal, which was piled even on her decks, to re-enforce the supply in the bunkers, was necessary.

What this mission was remained, so far, a mystery to every one on board except Mr. Jukes himself, the iron-jawed and impenetrable organizer of the expedition. Up to this time he had shown no inclination to unburden himself of his secret, and although the craft was equipped with powerful wireless of the most modern type, the yacht had received no messages, nor had she sent any, under orders from Mr. Jukes.

On this particular evening Jack Ready leaned against the door of the wireless-room, a converted deck cabin, and covertly watched the heavy-shouldered, bull-necked form of the millionaire shipping man as the latter gazed over the rail across the vacant waters at the gorgeous sunset.

It was a true pageant of the heavens, such as is only to be seen in the Southern ocean. Great cloud-masses rose in wondrous forms, like glorified castle walls and turrets, glowing with purple and gold and red. Jack found himself following Mr. Jukes’ gaze. Although such spectacles had been almost nightly ones since they had steamed into the tropics, there was something wild and sinister about the present one that thrilled him.

Captain Septimus Sparhawk, the brown, gaunt captain of the yacht, whose thin face was decorated by two little dabs of grayish whiskers forward of each ear, passed by.

“Nothing to do but to look at the sky, eh?” he asked Jack, as a suspicion of a smile crept over his face.

“That’s about all, sir,” rejoined Jack, with a laugh. “I expect to see spiders spinning webs on my instruments every day. I haven’t touched the key since we sailed.”

The captain shook his head. He was an old and loyal employee of the shipping man, and not much given to words. But, apparently, now he felt called upon to express himself.

“It’s a queer business, lad,” he said, “and it may get queerer still before we find out what it’s all about. I’m as much in the dark as you or the cabin boy. But right now that sunset worries me more than anything else.”

“You’re on the look-out for a storm?” asked Jack, noting a sudden look of anxiety in the captain’s pale blue eyes, surrounded by a network of tiny wrinkles, due to long gazing into salty gales.

“Worse than that, Ready,” was the rejoinder. “This is the hurricane season in these parts and the glass, – I’ve just taken a squint at it, – is dropping as if it never meant to stop.”

“If I could use the wireless – ” began Jack.

“We could probably get a weather reading from some other ship,” interrupted the captain, starting off, “but as it is, we might as well not have it on board at all. The thing’s got me stumped.”

He carried himself off on his long, thin legs but paused to speak to Mr. Jukes. The ship-owner, although Jack could not hear what was said, appeared to be agitated somewhat by the captain’s words, for he began puffing rapidly at his after-dinner cigar, sending out smoke like the exhaust of a locomotive funnel, a sure sign, as Jack had observed, that he was disturbed.

“I’ll make all snug, sir,” the boy heard the captain say, as he turned away, “and then we will be prepared for whatever happens.”

“Very well, Sparhawk,” answered Mr. Jukes, in a somewhat louder voice than he had used hitherto, “and be sure to see to it that the deck load of coal is secured safely. They tell me the bunkers are running low.”

As has been stated, the Sea Gypsy’s decks were piled high fore and aft with coal, kept in place by wooden bulkheads, which did not add to the appearance of the ship and encumbered progress from bow to stern. Only amidships, where the cabins were situated, was the deck clear. As the captain ascended the bridge he turned and gave an order to a petty officer and presently the crew could be seen at work lashing big tarpaulins down over the coal which was so important to keep the Sea Gypsy moving on her mysterious mission.

The news that the coal supply was running low in the bunkers was a surprise to Jack. He made for Billy Raynor’s cabin where the young chief engineer of the yacht was writing up his “log.”

“Yes, it’s right,” he rejoined to Jack’s question, “the loss of that deck load would be a serious matter. We’re a good many hundred miles from land and will have to tap the supply before long.”

“Billy, what on earth do you suppose is the object of this voyage?” demanded Jack abruptly.

“Blessed if I know, but I’m well satisfied with my promotion and job,” declared Raynor. “Cruising these wonderful seas in a yacht that’s a beauty, even if her decks are all littered up like a cattle boat’s, just about suits me.”

“That’s all right, you’ve got something to do,” complained Jack. “But look at my case. I have to polish up my instruments every day to keep them from getting rusty.”

“Serves you right for not stopping ashore and enjoying yourself,” chuckled Raynor teasingly. “Since you sold that ‘Universal Detector’ of yours to the government you could surely afford to.”

“Just as if I could kick my heels on shore doing nothing,” was Jack’s indignant reply, “but it does seem as if it’s about time we knew something of what this voyage is for.”

“Maybe it’s just a pleasure cruise to allow Mr. Jukes to get away from his business troubles,” hazarded Raynor.

Jack shook his head in decided negative.

“There’s more in it than that,” he declared positively. “Mr. Jukes is first of all a man of business. He wouldn’t come skylarking across the Pacific for three weeks if he was just out for a cruise. He’d go where he could keep in touch with the market and Wall Street.”

“That’s so,” Raynor was compelled to agree. “Well, I suppose when he gets ready to spill some information he’ll do it. In the meantime my job just suits me. But what made you ask about the deck coal?”

“Because Captain Sparhawk says we’re in for a bad blow, maybe a hurricane.”

Raynor’s usually cheerful face became suddenly serious.

“When did he say that?” he asked.

“Just now. They’re putting tarpaulins over it now. If we dropped it, we’d be in a bad fix, eh, Billy?”

“We’d have about coal enough left for two or three days,” rejoined Raynor.

“And after that – ?”

“It would be a case of ‘merrily we drift along.’”

The door gave a sudden sharp slam. A puff of wind, sweeping suddenly over the hitherto breathless sea, had banged it shut.

Jack jumped up and swung it quickly open again.

“Here she comes,” he cried excitedly.

At the same instant the Sea Gypsy gave a sidelong lurch that sent both lads helter-skelter across the cabin. Outside came a sudden bawling of voices and a distant, disquieting roar that grew louder every second.

Directly they recovered their sea legs, both lads made for the cabin door. A wonderful but alarming spectacle met their eyes. The sunset had been blotted out as if by magic. In its place was a ragged, inky-black cloud curtain that was being swept across the sky as if invisible, titanic hands were swiftly pulling it.