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CHAPTER XX.
HANK EXPLAINS
Joe laughed at Hank’s last question.
“Of use? Why, man alive, since wireless has been introduced, it has averted some great sea disasters and been the means of saving thousands of lives, not to mention its commercial value.”
“Do tell! It’s saved a lot of ships, hey?”
Hank looked really interested now.
“It certainly has. Some time ago the Prinz Joachim, of the Atlas Line, from New York to the West Indies, grounded on a remote island of the Bahama group more than a thousand miles south of New York. In the old days she’d have stuck there, while the passengers took to the boats or played Robinson Crusoe on the island. But nowadays what happened? Why, Henry Muller, her wireless man, was sent for by the captain, and he at once began pumping out the call for the home office of the line in a Broadway skyscraper.
“Almost by the time the last of the passengers, aroused by the shock, had come on deck to learn the cause of it, the captain was able to assure them that New York had the news and that the home office had flung out a call for rescue ships along the whole length of the Atlantic Coast. At the same time, of course, the vessel’s own wireless was on the job, too.
“Well, several ships were quickly located in the vicinity, and before long a small fleet was rushing to the Joachim’s aid. There was no fear on board. In fact, William Jennings Bryan, who was a passenger, could not resist the opportunity to make a speech. He suggested that they form a republic on the island, and that, as he could not be elected president of the United States, they make him chief executive of the island realm.
“Then take the case of the steamer Momus, carrying one hundred and twelve passengers, that caught fire off Cape Hatteras. Every effort was made to fight the blaze, which started among cotton bales in the forward hold; but to no avail. In this emergency, wireless signals were flashed in all directions.
“Before long they were answered. The Comus, a sister ship, heard them and informed the Momus that she was seventy-eight miles away and would come at top speed to the rescue. The two ships, by constant interchanging of their positions through the night, came together at two o’clock in the morning. Naturally, every passenger was up and about, but on the other hand there was no panic. The fact that wireless was on board gave a feeling of security to all, which they certainly would not have had otherwise.
“All the passengers were taken off in safety, and the relief ship stood by till the Momus was beached in shallow water and the fires drowned out. Twelve hours afterward the water was pumped out. The passengers re-embarked and the ship resumed her voyage. Incidentally, the ship and her cargo, valued at three million dollars, were saved. Not the least remarkable feature of this rescue was that throughout the whole affair the general manager of the line at his desk in New York was kept in constant touch with the situation and directed the operations.
“But I’m preaching a regular sermon,” broke off Joe.
“No, no; heave on, Joe. I like to hear about it,” declared Hank, who, to tell the truth, was anxious to stave off the inevitable time of explanation of his presence on the island, which he felt was close at hand.
“To switch to the naval uses of the wireless, then. The torpedo boat Beale was overtaken by a heavy storm off the Virginia capes. The waves were mountain high and it soon became clear that unless assistance came, and that speedily, the long, lean craft would be unable to ride out the gale. The S. O. S. signal, which means ‘in dire distress,’ was sent out, and was read by the wireless station at Norfolk. It was quickly passed on to Washington and received by the assistant secretary of the navy, who at once got into communication with the Beale. He asked for further details so that he could despatch relief intelligently. The Beale responded, and all this within a few minutes, that she was awash and making bad weather of it. This reply was in the secretary’s hands in time to enable him to send relief ships out from Norfolk, and the Beale and her crew were saved.
“There is one other field in which the wireless plays an important part. That is in the capture of criminals. A runaway now stands a much greater chance of being caught at sea than he does ashore. In former years the exact reverse was true. A man who tries to flee from America to Europe to avoid the consequences of a crime is, so to speak, like a runner caught between bases. The wireless spreads a net about him from which he cannot escape.
“One notable case occurred in 1911. A crime had been committed in London, and the search for the man who did it was carried on by an immense corps of police and detectives all over Europe working in harmony. London, Paris, Berlin were all searched, but without results. The runaway had vanished utterly.
“While the search was at its height and hope of capturing the man had been about given up, a wireless call was picked up one night at a station on the Irish coast from the captain of a trans-Atlantic steamer in mid-ocean. It asked for a detailed description of the man who was wanted. It was sent, and the captain of the vessel replied that he believed that he had the man, for whom a fine-tooth comb search had been conducted, on board his ship.
“Excitement ran high. People on both sides of the Atlantic awaited more details, but the ship got out of range for a time and was not heard from till the station at Cape Race, Newfoundland, picked up a message from the captain to say that he was sure he had the criminal wanted on board. He asked that detectives be ready when the ship came into quarantine on the St. Lawrence River, for she was bound for Quebec.
“The criminal was trapped like a wild beast. While the ship was still three days from port, the police began to gather. Newspapers from all over the country rushed men to the place where it had been arranged by wireless to board her. And all this time, the man wanted had no idea that the net was being drawn about him. It was not till he was actually under arrest that he learned what wireless had done toward his capture. And this is only one of a number of such cases.”
“Do tell,” exclaimed Hank amazedly; “that thing is a sort of a conjurer, be’ant it?”
“It is all of that,” smiled Joe; “but now tell me, Hank,” he said, “how did you happen to come here in the nick of time to let me out? What brought you here, anyhow?”
Hank looked grave. A troubled expression came over his sunburned face.
“I allowed I’d just sail out here and straighten matters out,” he stammered.
“What matters?”
“Why, that thing about soaking your chum on the head and carrying him off to the cave. I had no part in it. Honest Injun, I didn’t, and I was too scared of old Israel and the rest to do anything.”
“Humph,” remarked Joe, “but you didn’t try to help him at all.”
“I was going to after we got back from taking Minory out of the cave, but when we did he had gone. Got clear away in that little old boat. It was all old Israel’s fault. He’d do anything for money, Iz would. When the Minory chap flashed a big roll on him, it was all off. It’s lucky things didn’t turn out worse.”
“Where are your uncle and the others now?” demanded Joe.
“Honest, I don’t know,” rejoined Hank, looking Joe straight in the eyes. “They haven’t shown up at Martinez. I reckon they are scared and are waiting till things blow over a bit before they show their heads.”
“That sounds plausible,” answered Joe. “Are you through with them?” he added.
“Yes, sir,” was the emphatic reply. “I want to live straight. I never had much use for old Israel, but this last bit of business sickened me. I came out here to see you fellows to tell you that I was your friend, and that if I hear anything about that bunch I’ll tell you.”
“That’s good of you, Hank,” said Joe warmly.
“No, tain’t, but I’m glad you believe. I was afraid that maybe you’d have me arrested.”
“But you wanted to put yourself right, so you came anyway.”
“Yes, I jes’ had to.”
“Well, that was brave of you, Hank,” declared Joe, “and from now on we’ll count you as our friend.”
“You sure can do that. I’ll do anything I can for you.”
“You showed that this afternoon. But, as you came over, did you see anything of a boat leaving the island?”
“A launch?”
“I guess that’s what they came in,” responded Joe, and he then related all that had occurred that afternoon. Hank exclaimed angrily and blamed himself for not stopping the launch as he heard Joe tell of the escape of the men after locking him in the closet.
“I could have stopped that launch plum easy, if I’d only known,” he said, “but I thought that they were just visitors.”
“So they were and very unwelcome ones, too,” laughed Joe, who, now that his troubles were over, could, as usual, see the humorous side of them as well as the serious.
“There’s something else I want to tell you,” said Hank, as he picked up his hat and prepared to go.
“What’s that?”
“Well, you remember what old Israel said about you fellows not having any rights on this island?”
“Yes, what of it?”
“Just this, that if it hadn’t been for that affair of Minory’s, they meant to attack you.”
“They did!”
“Yes, siree. Old Israel, he allowed he’d drive you off the island even if he had to drive you into the sea.”
“Well, that’s pleasant.”
“And the first step was to be the wrecking of your wireless contraption.”
“Thank goodness, they are where they can’t do us any harm now! I guess they’ll lie low if they’re wise. There’s a law in California, you know.”
“Old Israel, he never took no account of the law, nohow,” declared Hank with a sort of grudging admiration, “and if you’re wise you’ll keep a good lookout for him. When he gits sot on a thing, he most generally always put it through, and he’s sure determined to drive you off Goat Island.”
CHAPTER XXI.
IN THE MIDST OF ALARMS
Joe had plenty to ponder after Hank had left. Of course, he had heard from Nat of the mysterious “Nemo” call, and, in view of what he had heard from the reformed member of the Harley family, it looked to him very much as if old Israel had had some hand in the affair. Then, too, there was Hank’s remarkable change of front. Joe had at first questioned the youth’s sincerity but after a time his manner left no room to doubt that his proffer of friendship was genuine. Joe was very glad that this was so, for, in case old Israel returned and tried to make trouble, Hank would prove a valuable ally.
“I reckon I’ll see if I can raise the Nomad and flash Nat the news of the afternoon,” thought Joe, upon whose hands the time was beginning to hang heavily.
If anyone was on board the Nomad, this would be an easy thing for Joe to do, for by this time the wireless outfit, that the boys had agreed would prove a valuable addition to the Nomad’s equipment, had been installed.
But before Joe could reach his instruments the wireless “alarm clock” began ringing loudly, sounding the Goat Island call. Joe hastened to the apparatus and sent out a reply. Then he adjusted the head band and the receivers and began listening. The message that came made his cheeks tingle with pleasure. It was from the Chief of Police of Santa Barbara and was as follows:
“Congratulations. Good work. Man on Vesta bank robber badly wanted. Probably a reward case.”
Joe felt a distinct feeling of pleasure over the despatch. It demonstrated in no uncertain way the practical utility of their plant. But the boy felt somewhat disappointed that the two miscreants who had so roughly used him had not been apprehended. He was not a revengeful lad but he would certainly have liked to learn of the men’s capture.
Presently he set about the task of raising the Nomad by wireless. But, although he tried for more than an hour to get some response, he failed to do so.
“That’s queer,” thought the boy. “Nat said that he would surely be on his way back before dark. Well, I suppose I’ve got to make up my mind to spend a solitary evening of it.”
As it grew dark he cooked his supper and ate it with a hearty appetite. Afterward he read for a while and then, feeling drowsy, determined to turn in.
“I guess there’s no chance of Nat’s coming back to-night,” he thought as he extinguished the light.
How much later it was that he awakened, he did not know, but some impulse made him go to the window and look over toward the wireless hut. To his astonishment a light was shining in the casement of the structure that housed the instruments.
Joe’s heart gave a great bound.
“It’s Israel Harley!” he exclaimed under his breath. “What am I to do? He’s sure not to be alone and Nat’s revolver is locked in his trunk.”
The boy was no coward, as those who have followed the Motor Rangers’ adventures know, but the situation was one that might have tried stronger nerves than Joe Hartley’s, gritty as he was.
He saw a shadow cross the lighted window as whoever was within the wireless hut moved about.
“I don’t like this a bit,” muttered Joe to himself, as he cast about for the best means of coping with the situation. “Those fellows are just about as bad as bad can be and I’ve had one experience with ruffians already to-day. I don’t feel like having a second struggle.”
The light burned steadily on, but whoever was within the hut did not pass the window again.
“They may be demolishing the instruments and smashing things up generally right now,” said Joe to himself as he watched and waited.
The thought was like a tonic to him. He determined to delay no longer but, come what might of it, to surprise the intruders and trust to luck for the outcome. He selected a short, heavy oar from some that lay outside the shanty. It made quite a formidable weapon when wielded by a muscular lad like Joe, and as his fingers closed on it he felt ready to give battle to a whole tribe of Harleys.
In a quiver of excitement and suspense, he crept forward almost noiselessly over the soft sand. What the outcome of the affair would be he did not know nor did he dare to think. But he was determined at all hazards to guard the valuable equipment of the wireless station.
“At any rate, I’ll give a good account of myself,” he thought as he advanced toward the lighted hut.
Nevertheless he caught himself wishing more than once that his chums were with him. About twenty feet from the hut he paused and listened intently. He fully expected to hear the noise of breakage as the vandals destroyed the instruments.
But to his astonishment all was utter silence. The only sound to be heard was the breaking of the waves on the sandy beach below.
“Funny I don’t hear any voices, either,” he muttered. “There must be more than one of them. Old Israel’s not the sort of man to come alone on an enterprise of this kind.”
Once more he paused after advancing a few steps, but as before no suspicious sounds broke the stillness.
“It can’t be spooks,” he thought, and the next minute had to smile at himself for entertaining such a silly notion.
“No, it’s human beings all right, and ones who have no good intentions toward us or they wouldn’t come sneaking around here like thieves in the night. I suppose that they saw that the Nomad had gone from her moorings and that the shanty was dark and assumed that there was no one here.”
He advanced still further and was now quite close up to the hut. Still all was silence within. Had it not been for the light in the window he would have deemed that he was the victim of a delusion. But there was no mistaking the fact of the light, and no mistaking, also, that it was a human agency that had kindled it.
“Thought there was no one here, eh?” muttered Joe, gritting his teeth. “Well, Harley and Co., here’s where you get the surprise of your young lives.”
He stepped forward with brisk determination and prepared to thrust the closed door open.
But the next instant he stopped dead.
“Well!” he ejaculated in startled amazement.
From within the hut had come the last sound in the world he expected to hear. It was the whine and crackle of the spark. Somebody was sending a message!
CHAPTER XXII.
AN UNEXPECTED STUDENT
“Open the door!”
Joe spoke in an authoritative voice as he rattled the portal of the hut. It was locked inside, and at the first turn of the handle the crackling and sputtering of the spark had ceased.
“Hurry up, now,” hailed Joe again as a scuffling sound followed his first order, but no audible reply issued from within.
“It can’t be old Israel and his crowd,” thought the boy as he listened, “and it can’t be those two rascals who were here this afternoon. Either one of those lots would have flung the door open long ago and rushed out on me. Who in the world can it be, then? Somebody trying to play a joke? They’ll find it a pretty unpleasant one.”
Joe waited a minute or two and then as no move was made by whoever was within to open the hut door, he hailed again in an angry voice.
“You’d better obey. It will be all the worse for you if you don’t.”
Footsteps sounded inside and Joe gripped his oar, prepared to bring it down with a crash on the head of whoever appeared. He was not going to take any chances. There followed the sounds of fumbling with a lock and the next minute the door opened. Out stepped a figure so utterly unlike any one that Joe had expected to see that he almost dropped his oar in his astonishment.
The intruder who had caused Joe so much disquietude was a slender stripling of a youth of not more than fifteen. He had a pale, studious face, big, frightened eyes and walked with a limp.
“Don’t hit me! Don’t!” he begged as he saw Joe standing there with lips grimly compressed and the oar raised ready to strike.
“Caught you right in the act, haven’t I?” spoke Joe, as fiercely as he could.
“Yes, sir,” said the lad in a thin, wavering voice.
“What do you mean by trespassing here?” demanded Joe.
The lad stammered something and Joe, touched in spite of himself by the youth’s wan, pale look, spoke more kindly.
“I’m not an officer or a judge,” he said, “but I’m in charge here, and you are trespassing on private property.”
The boy looked alarmed.
“I’m – I’m sorry,” he said, “I suppose I’d better get out.”
“Tell me what you came here for before you do that,” said Joe. “I’m interested in knowing.”
“I didn’t think there’d be any harm. I came over in my sailboat.”
A sudden thought struck Joe.
“Is this the first time that you’ve been here?” he demanded.
“No,” confessed the lad, hanging his head; “I’ve often come over here when you were all away.”
“And you thought that was the case to-night?”
The lad nodded.
“But what object brought you?”
The boy’s eyes kindled and his pale cheeks flushed.
“I love the wireless,” he said, speaking more firmly; “I wanted to use it and I had no other opportunity.”
“You can operate?”
The boy nodded and once more his eyes brightened.
“Yes, a little bit. I’m not very good at it yet.”
“You’re good enough to sign your name ‘Nemo,’ though, aren’t you?” shot out Joe on a hazard. A conviction had been growing in his mind that this sickly-looking lad must be the “Nemo” who had so mystified them. The stranger’s face turned crimson. He hung his head and looked embarrassed.
“How did you guess it?” he asked, after a considerable pause. And then he went on, “It’s no use beating about the bush. My name is Jim Dolliver; I come from Powell’s Cove. My dad is a small rancher and hasn’t much use for me because with this game foot I’m not able to do much work. I begged him to let me take up wireless telegraphy and make a future for myself, but he says that it’s ‘all foolish rot.’ I heard about you boys building this plant out here, and one night when I knew you weren’t here I sneaked over in my boat and began practice on a real key. You see I’d learned the Morse alphabet and the theory of wireless at home and practiced with a home-made key. I found it came easier than I expected, and the habit of coming over here kind of grew on me. That night when I got the call for Goat Island, I just couldn’t help answering it, but I got scared and cut off. It was wrong of me, I know, to sneak in and use your apparatus this way, but I just couldn’t help it.”
“And what are you going to do now?” asked Joe, watching the lad keenly.
“Say good-bye, I guess; that is, if you don’t arrest me for trespassing. I’ve always been very careful with your instruments, and I know I haven’t injured them, but I see now that I ought never to have come here at all.”
He was starting toward the beach, but Joe detained him.
“Look here, sonny,” he said, “I don’t see why there should be any objection to your using our plant for practice if you want to. Of course, I’d have to consult my chums and – ”
“Then you’re not angry?”
“Not a bit. I think you’ve shown a whole lot of grit and pluck in taking all the pains you have to get real practice on a real wireless set. I mean to tell Nat and Ding-dong – those are my chums – about you, and we’ll see what can be done.”
“Oh, that’s awfully good of you!”
“Not a bit, and now you’d better be getting back home. It’s quite a sail from here to Powell’s Cove, and your folks will be wondering where you are.”
“I haven’t got any folks, only just my dad,” was the pathetic reply; “and dad, he don’t take no account of where I go. He’s got a friend stopping with him, though, that’s powerfully interested in you fellows over here.”
“Is that so?” asked Joe rather indifferently.
“Yes, he’s always talking about you and about the wireless. From what I’ve heard him telling dad, he hasn’t got much use for you, either.”
“How is that, Jim?”
“Why, he says that you are interfering busybodies, and that if it wasn’t for you, he’d be out of the country by this time instead of having to hide his head.”
Joe grew suddenly interested.
“What sort of a looking fellow is this friend of your father’s, and when did he come to stop with him?” he asked.
“Oh, about two weeks ago. I don’t like him a bit. He’s got a big, black beard and looks at you ever so fiercely. He don’t go out much, and whenever there’s a rig or anything coming along the road, he beats it for the cellar. ’Pears to me like he’s scared of something, and – Why! what’s the matter?”
There was reason for the question, for Joe had suddenly developed a wild fit of excitement and was clasping Jim Dolliver’s hand.
“Your coming here to-night was the best thing that ever happened, Jim,” he cried. “Gracious,” he added to himself, “there isn’t a doubt in the world but that Jim’s father’s friend is Miles Minory.”
