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The Project Gutenberg EBook of The Ocean Wireless Boys on War Swept Seas, by
Wilbur Lawton

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Title: The Ocean Wireless Boys on War Swept Seas

Author: Wilbur Lawton

Illustrator: Arthur O. Scott

Release Date: May 30, 2014 [EBook #45841]

Language: English

Character set encoding: ASCII

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[Illustration: "Thank heaven you came before it was too late."--Page
108]

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                  THE
                          OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS
                                   ON
                             WAR SWEPT SEAS

                                   BY

                         CAPTAIN WILBUR LAWTON

         AUTHOR OF "THE BOY AVIATORS' SERIES," "THE DREADNOUGHT
             BOYS' SERIES," "THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON THE
              ATLANTIC," "THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS AND THE
                LOST LINER," "THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON
                              THE PACIFIC"

                         With Illustrations by

                            ARTHUR O. SCOTT

                                NEW YORK
                         HURST & COMPANY, INC.
                               PUBLISHERS

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                            COPYRIGHT, 1917,
                                   BY
                            HURST & COMPANY

------------------------------------------------------------------------

                                CONTENTS

                       CHAPTER                        PAGE
                     I THE GOLD SHIP                     5
                    II WAR IS DECLARED!                 15
                   III ON DECK ONCE MORE                23
                    IV ICEBERGS AHEAD!                  32
                     V A CLOSE SHAVE                    38
                    VI SMOKE ON THE HORIZON             49
                   VII A SHOT AT THE RUDDER             55
                  VIII LAND HO!                         61
                    IX A STRANGE QUEST                  69
                     X UNDER OLD GLORY                  78
                    XI THE "HERR PROFESSOR" AGAIN       84
                   XII THE ARMED CRUISER                90
                  XIII A MESSAGE IN CODE                96
                   XIV THE CATTLE SHIP                 103
                    XV JACK'S BRAVE LEAP               113
                   XVI AWAITING ORDERS                 120
                  XVII WHAT BEFELL IN THE AFTER CABIN  128
                 XVIII A RASCAL BROUGHT TO BOOK        135
                   XIX THE "BARLEY RIG"                147
                    XX THE HIDDEN MINE                 154
                   XXI THE NORTH SEA                   160
                  XXII A NIGHT OF ALARMS               167
                 XXIII MEETING AN OLD FRIEND           173
                  XXIV THE SKY SLAYER                  179
                   XXV IN THE GLARE OF THE FLAMES      187
                  XXVI TWO YOUNG HEROES                194
                 XXVII "THE GERMANS ARE COMING!"       201
                XXVIII FAST TRAVELING                  207
                  XXIX THE UHLANS!                     215
                   XXX "YOU ARE A SPY!"                221
                  XXXI COURT-MARTIALED                 227
                 XXXII THE LONG NIGHT                  233
                XXXIII THROUGH BULLET-RACKED AIR       243
                 XXXIV A FLIGHT OF TERROR              248
                  XXXV THE BULLY OF THE CLOUDS         254
                 XXXVI A MYSTERIOUS CAPTURE            260
                XXXVII THE MIGHT OF MILITARISM         266
               XXXVIII MILITARY CROSS-EXAMINATION      272
                 XXXIX SHATTERING THE SHACKLES         278
                    XL OLD GLORY AGAIN                 285
                   XLI WAR IN TIMES OF PEACE           292

------------------------------------------------------------------------

               THE OCEAN WIRELESS BOYS ON WAR SWEPT SEAS




                               CHAPTER I.

                             THE GOLD SHIP.


The newspapers announced in large type that the _Kronprinzessin Emilie_,
the crack flyer of the Bremen-American line, was to carry from the
United States to Germany the vast sum of $6,000,000 in bullion. On her
sailing day the dock, from which she was to start on what destined to
prove the most eventful voyage ever made since men first went down to
the sea in ships, was jammed with gaping crowds. They interfered with
the passengers, and employees of the company had to jostle their way
among them as best they could.

The thought of the vast fortune stowed within the tall, steel sides of
the liner had attracted them, although what they expected to see of it
was difficult to imagine. But just as a crowd will gather outside a
prison where some notorious malefactor is confined, feasting their eyes
on its gray walls without hope of seeing the lawbreaker himself, so the
throngs on the _Kronprinzessin Emilie's_ pier indulged their curiosity
by staring at the colossal casket that held such an enormous fortune.

Among those who had to win their way through the crowd almost by main
force, were two tanned, broad-shouldered youths carrying suitcases and
handbags.

"My, what a mob, Jack!" exclaimed one of them, elbowing himself between
a stout man who was gazing fixedly at the vessel's side--and showed no
disposition to move--and an equally corpulent woman whose mouth was wide
open and whose eyes bulged as if she almost expected to see the ship
gold-plated instead of black.

"Yes, gold's a great magnet even if it is stowed away inside the specie
room of a steamer," replied Jack Ready. "We ought to feel like
millionaires ourselves, Bill, sailing on such a ship."

"A sort of vacation _de luxe_," laughed Bill Raynor. "What a chance for
the buccaneers of the old days if they could only come to life again.
Then there would be real adventure in sailing on the _Kronprinzessin_."

"I guess we've had about all the adventure we want for a time, Bill,"
replied Jack, as they finally gained the gang-plank and two
white-coated, gilt-buttoned stewards grabbed their hand baggage. "The
Pacific and New Guinea provided what you might call 'an ample
sufficiency' for me in that line."

"We earned this holiday, that's one thing sure," agreed Bill, "and the
best part of it is that the sale of those pearls gave us enough funds
for a holiday abroad without putting too much of a crimp in our bank
accounts."

He referred to the pearls the boys' native chums in the Pamatou Islands
in the South Pacific had presented them with, after their narrow escape
from death in the sea-cave and the subsequent wreck on a coral reef,
during the memorable Pacific voyage and adventures, which were described
in detail in the volume of this series which immediately preceded the
present book. This volume was called, "The Ocean Wireless Boys on the
Pacific."

In the first book of this series, which was called "The Ocean Wireless
Boys on the Atlantic," we were introduced to Jack Ready, then the young
wireless operator of the big tank steamer _Ajax_. His chum, Bill Raynor,
was a junior engineer of that craft. A strong friendship sprang up
between the two lads, which their subsequent adventures on that voyage
cemented into a lasting affection.

Jack also won the approval of Jacob Jukes, head of the great shipping
combine that owned the _Ajax_ and a vast fleet of craft, both passenger
and freight, besides, by his masterly handling of a difficult situation
when the millionaire shipping-man's yacht burned in mid-Atlantic.

This incident, and others which proved that the young wireless man was
level-headed and cool, even in the worst emergency, resulted in his
being transferred to the passenger service on board the West Indian
service craft, the _Tropic Queen_. The thrilling events that accompanied
the vessel's last voyage were set forth in the second volume of the
Ocean Wireless Boys series, entitled, "The Ocean Wireless Boys and the
Lost Liner."

Still another book related how Jack and his chum took to the seas again
on different vessels, only to be reunited in the strangest manner. "The
Ocean Wireless Boys of the Iceberg Patrol," as this was named, told
something of the work of the craft detailed by Uncle Sam to the duty of
patrolling northern seas, sending wireless warnings of icebergs to
trans-Atlantic liners--a work of infinite usefulness which, had it been
instituted earlier, might have averted the loss of the _Titanic_, the
greatest marine disaster in the history of the world. This was followed
by an account of the exciting Pacific adventures already referred to.

The boys, and their employer, Mr. Jukes, agreed with them, and felt that
after their experiences in the South Seas with the millionaire's
expedition in search of his lost brother, they had earned a holiday; and
their determination to tour Europe was the outcome.

But even as they stepped on board the "Gold Ship," the machinery of war
was beginning to rumble in Europe, and before many hours had passed, the
storm of well-nigh universal war was destined to begin. Of this, of
course, they had no inkling, as they busied themselves in establishing
their belongings in their main-deck cabin. These preparations had hardly
been completed when the siren boomed warningly, and a tremor ran through
the big vessel. As she backed out of her pier, the brass band began to
play and the crowds on the decks, and on the docks, waved wildly,
cheered and shouted last messages which, by no possibility, could have
been heard above the din.

"Well, off at last, Jack," said Raynor, entwining Jack's elbow in his
own as the two leaned, side by side, on the railing, bidding good-bye to
New York's wonderful skyscraper skyline as it slid past. "How does it
feel to be a passenger?"

Jack's eyes sought the lofty wireless aerials swung far above them
between the two masts.

"It feels mighty odd to think of somebody else sending out the T. R." he
said slowly, naming the wireless method of saying "Good-bye," on
sailing.

"Well, I never saw such a fellow!" exclaimed Raynor. "For goodness' sake
forget your everlasting coherers and keys and converters and the rest of
them and enjoy taking life easy. But--hullo!" he broke off, "there's
someone we know."

Approaching them was a dapper little man, with a neat black moustache
and dressed in a careful, almost dignified manner.

"Why, it's Raymond de Garros, that French aviator we saved from the sea
off Florida when we were on the old _Tropic Queen_!" exclaimed Jack.

"That's the man. But what in the world is he doing here? I thought he
was in France organizing an aeroplane corps for the army."

"So did I. The newspapers have had several despatches about his work.
But we shall soon find out about the reason for his being on board."

A minute later they were warmly shaking hands with the little Frenchman,
who, with many gesticulations and twirlings of his moustache, assured
them how glad he was to "greet zee two brave boys zat save my life from
zee sea."

"You're the last person we expected to see," said Jack, when first
greetings were over. "We didn't even know you were in America."

The little Frenchman shrugged his shoulders and looked about him
uneasily. Then he buttonholed the boys confidentially.

"No one know zat I am here but my government," he said in low tones.

"You are on a secret mission of some kind?" asked Jack.

"Can I trust you to keep somethings to yourselves if I tell you what I
am do in Amerique?" asked the aviator.

"Of course, but if you don't wish---- I didn't mean to appear
inquisitive," Jack hastened to say.

"Zat is all right, my friend!" exclaimed de Garros. "You save my life. I
should be ungrateful if I seemed secretive wiz you. I have been in
Amerique buying and shipping aeroplanes to France from one of your
manufacturers."

"But I thought France already had a powerful air fleet," said Bill.

The little aviator's next words were astonishing to the boys, who shared
the common impression about the French strength in the air.

"Before many days are past we shall need all and more aeroplanes than we
have," he said. "I wish we had twice as many. But I can say no more now.
But my advice to you is to watch zee wireless closely. You are going
abroad on pleasure?"

"Yes, we thought we'd earned a vacation," said Jack.

The little Frenchman's rejoinder was a shrug and a smile.

"Your vacation may be what you Americans call a 'strenuous one,'" he
said meaningly, and with an emphasis the boys could not fathom. "By the
way, on board this ship I am Jules Campion. There are reasons for my
real name being unknown for the present. _Au revoir_, I go to arrange my
luggage. We shall meet again."

And he was gone, leaving the boys to exchange puzzled glances.




                              CHAPTER II.

                            WAR IS DECLARED!


"Vell, Yack Retty, you yust like to hang aroundt undt see me vurk,
hein?"

Hans Poffer, the yellow-haired, red-cheeked wireless operator of the
_Kronprinzessin Emilie_ asked the question, on the afternoon of the
third day out. Jack had discovered in young Poffer an acquaintance he
had made in Antwerp when he was on board the _Ajax_, and had renewed the
friendship, to Poffer's great delight, for the German wireless man had
had trouble with his instruments the first day out which Jack had
adjusted for him.

Since that time Jack, to Bill Raynor's amusement, had spent most of his
time in the wireless room enjoying, as Poffer put it, "watching me
work." But there was another reason beside his deep-seated interest in
everything appertaining to his profession that made Jack haunt the
_Kronprinzessin's_ wireless coop. De Garros, with whom he had had
several conversations since their meeting on board, had repeatedly told
him to be on the lookout for something "that would before long come over
the wires." Once, in discussing the boys' plans for amusing themselves
in Europe, the aviator had said meaningly, "if you ever get there." But
what he meant by these words he had steadfastly refused to explain,
telling Jack that he would find out in good time.

"Me, if I gedt idt a holliday," said Poffer, after greeting Jack a day
later, "I go by as far avay from der vireless as I couldt gedt idt. I
gedt sick undt tired hearing idt all day 'tick-tick' undt sending idt
all day der same 'tick-tick' alretty. Donner! I'm hungry again. Holdt
idt mein key a minute vile I gedt idt mineself a bite."

The stout German slipped his wireless "ears" from his head and extended
them to Jack, who, good-naturedly, took them. Then he made off for his
cabin where he kept constantly a stock of provisions to satisfy his
appetite between meals.

"Well, I'm a fine chump," smiled Jack, as he slipped into Hans' vacant
chair. "No wonder Bill says I'm crazy. Off for a holiday and the first
thing I know I find myself back on the job. Hullo, here's a message
coming. K. P. E., that's our call. Funny sort of sending, too. Doesn't
sound like a commercial operator."

Jack crackled out a reply.

"This is the _Kronprinzessin Emilie_," he flashed back; "what do you
want?"

"Tell your captain to lie to in his present position till further
orders," came the reply.

"Well, I like your nerve," flashed back Jack, thinking somebody was
trying to play a wireless joke on him. "Don't you know we are carrying
the European mails from New York? You stick around where you are and we
may bump into you on the way back again."

"Never mind about that. Obey orders at once," came back bruskly.

"Say, never mind that comedy," implored Jack. "I'm busy. Ring off."

"No trifling there, young man," was flashed back. "This is the British
cruiser _Essex_. We want to overhaul you."

"But you can't stop a mail steamer."

"In this case we can. War has been declared by England upon Germany and
Austria. Lay to or it will be the worse for you."

A step sounded behind Jack. He turned quickly, thinking it was someone
who wanted to send a message, in which case he was anxious to "cut out"
the man he thought was playing a senseless joke on him. The newcomer was
de Garros.

"Ah, sitting at zee wire, eh? I suppose our always hungry Teutonic
friend iz taking ze light lunch somewhere. Ah, any news? I saw you
working ze key as I came in."

"No news since I came on," said Jack, carelessly. "I was just trying to
convince some deep sea joker that he couldn't fool me."

"What do you mean?"

"Why, somebody just flashed a message to the ship that they were the
British cruiser _Essex_ and that war had been declared between England
and Germany and----"

He got no further. De Garros's hands flew out and seized his shoulders.

"Zat was no joke, _mon ami_," he exclaimed; "it was zee truth."

"The truth? How do you know?" asked the naturally astonished Jack.

"It has been in zee air for months in diplomatic circles. I thought zee
declaration would have come before this. It was for that that I was in
Amerique buying aeroplanes."

"What, is France in this, too?" demanded the astonished Jack.

"Yes, and Russia also. Russia declared war two days ago. Then came
France, zee second member of zee Triple Entente, as zee is called, and
now, as was expected, comes England to help against the German
barbarians."

"But how did you know all this?" demanded Jack. "There was nothing in
the papers when we left New York, but something about a row between
Austria and Servia."

"Which caused all the trouble," came the reply; "or, rather, zee match
to zee powder. But zee ask me how I know zee declaration of war of
Russia and France. I am not the only man on zee ship zat does. Captain
Rollok, he knows, zee officers know, like me zey have been getting
wireless messages in code. Zey have been warned to look out for English
cruisers in case England joined France and Russia. Zis Gerrman ship with
six million dollars in gold on board would be a fine prize for Great
Britain. My friend, before many hours have passed, you are going to have
some excitement."

"Great gracious, then that message wasn't a joke and that British
cruiser may overhaul us and take all that bullion?"

"If she can catch us,--yes. She will also make prisoners of the Germans
on board and take the ship to an English port."

"What had I better do?"

"Here comes young Poffer now. Tell him of zee message and get it to zee
captain at once. If we are caught we may be delayed indefinitely and zee
haste is imperative with me at zee present time."

The German wireless man entered the cabin, gnawing at a huge pretzel. At
Jack's information of the message that had come, he dropped it to the
floor in his astonishment and stood staring for a moment.

"Himmel!" he exclaimed, when he found his voice. "Englandt is go var
midt Yarmany! Undt a Bridish sheep chase us. _Ach du lieber_, if they
catch us, Hans Poffer goes by a prison yet midt nudding to eat but bread
undt vater----"

"Never mind about that now," interrupted Jack quickly; "take that
information to Captain Rollok at once. Take it yourself. Don't give it
to a steward. If the passengers knew of this, there'd be a panic in a
jiffy."

Poffer, still with his mouth and eyes wide open, hurried off on his
errand.

"Captain Rollok will probably come back himself," declared de Garros,
"and vee will be ordered out of the cabin. Ve had better go now. But vee
must not say a word of zees till zee time comes. Vee have more as two
thousand passengers on board and if zey zink a warship chase
us,--_sacre!_"




                              CHAPTER III.

                           ON DECK ONCE MORE.


Jack was lolling in a deck chair fifteen minutes later, still digesting
the astonishing news that had come out of space, when a deck steward
approached him and, with an air of caution, leant over the lad and said:

"Captain Rollok would like to see you in the wireless room at once,
please."

"Now what's up?" wondered Jack, as greatly astonished by this message,
he made his way to the radio cabin. "I guess I'm in for a call down for
sitting in at the key. Poor Poffer, I'll see that he doesn't get into
trouble if I can help it, and as for me--I'm a passenger now and
captains have no terrors for me."

These thoughts occupied him as far as his destination. Within the cabin
were Captain Rollok, a giant of a man, with a fresh complexion and huge
blond beard, one of his officers and Hans Pollak, the latter looking in
fear of his life as the big captain berated him, in German, with force
and vigor. As Jack entered the cabin, the great bulk of the captain
swung round on him.

"So you are de young mans who sits in at der vireless vile dis
cabbage-head goes stuffing himself midt pretzels, is it?" he demanded,
with what appeared great severity, but with an underlying twinkle in his
eyes.

Jack contented himself with nodding and a brief admission that he had
taken Poffer's place at the key while the latter refreshed himself. He
half-expected an outburst from the big German but, to his astonishment,
the captain clapped him on the back with a force that almost knocked him
off his feet.

"_Ach, du lieber!_" he exclaimed; "it was goot dot you vod dere,
uddervise dis foolish Poffer would haf left der key anyvay undt dot
British cruiser would have overhauled us. Now I got a proposition to
make to you. You are a vireless man. Our second operator is sick undt
idt is necessary dot dere is someones at der vireless all of der time.
Vill you take der chob?"

Jack hardly knew what to say. The proposal had come so abruptly that he
found it hard to make up his mind.

"You would want me to help out all the way to Europe?" he asked.

"We are not going to Europe," was the reply. "I am going to run back for
der American coast undt try to dodge capture. Six million dollars is a
big enough prize to make der search for us pretty active. I don't
believe dere would be a chance for us to reach der udder side."

"Well," said Jack, after some consideration, "I guess my holiday is off
anyhow, and I might as well get down to work now as later on. All right,
Captain, you can count on me."

"Goot for you. I vill see dot you are no loser by idt," said the big
German, and so Jack, by a strange combination of undreamt-of
circumstances, became the wireless man of the "gold ship," whose
subsequent adventures were destined to fill the world with wonder.

Poffer's hours of duty ended at dinner time that evening, and by the
time Jack sat down at the key, it was dark. No more word had come from
the British cruiser, and so far the _Kronprinzessin's_ course had not
been altered. A hasty message in cipher had been sent to the offices of
the line in New York, but so far no orders to turn back had come through
the air.

However, Jack had not been on duty an hour before the expected command
came. The passengers strolling and sitting about the decks were suddenly
aware that the big ship was slowing up and being turned about. The
incredulous ones among them were speedily convinced that this was
actually the case when it was pointed out that the moon, which had been
on the starboard side of the ship in the early evening, was now to be
seen off the port quarter.

Rumors ran rife throughout the great steel vessel. There had been an
accident to the machinery, there were icebergs ahead, some plot against
the security of the gold in the specie room had been discovered--these,
and even wilder reports, were circulated. The captain and the other
officers were besieged for explanations, but none were forthcoming, for
the time being.

Shortly before midnight, however, the captain in person entered the
smoking room with a telegram in his hand.

"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."

"But the fearful danger, Bill," protested Jack. "At any moment there may
come a crash and----"

"We've got iceberg detectors," said Bill, "and maybe they'll sound the
whistle and locate a big berg by the echo."

"They won't sound any whistle to-night," declared Jack. "That skipper is
determined not to give any cruiser the least inkling of his whereabouts.
I'm going to take a run on the deck, the wireless bell will call me if
something comes. Want to join me?"

"All right. But it's not much of a night for a stroll outside."

"Anything's better than sitting in that cabin waiting for
you-don't-know-what to happen."

"You're getting nervous, Jack."

"Not so much for my own sake as at the thought of all these thousands of
tons of steel being raced through this fog at a twenty-four knot clip
and icebergs ahead. It's sheer madness."

"Well, the captain's word is law at sea, so it's no use protesting. We
must hope for the best."

The upper decks were deserted except for the boys. On the lower deck the
passengers huddled in the darkness behind canvas screens erected to
prevent any chance ray of light from filtering out. It was an uncanny
feeling this, of speeding through an impenetrable pall of blackness with
the thought of the iceberg warning ever and anon recurring to both lads,
though they tried to talk of indifferent subjects.

The hours wore on and the fog did not lighten. Chilled to the bone,
although it was August, Jack and Bill had about decided to turn in when
there came a sudden sharp cry from the lookout forward. Involuntarily,
Bill clutched Jack's arm. The strain had affected them both more than
they cared to admit.

Suddenly, dead ahead of them, as it seemed, there reared, seen white
through the mist, a monstrous spectral form. It towered above the
steamer's masts and appeared to their alarmed imaginations to hang like
an impending cliff above the ship.

From the bridge came quick shouts. Orders were given and harshly echoed.
Somewhere down on the passenger decks, a woman screamed. Then came cries
of consternation. The next moment there was a slight shock and a long,
shuddering grind passed along the vessel's side. The mountainous ice
mass appeared to sheer off, but in reality the ship was swinging clear
of it. By a miracle she had escaped with a mere graze of her side. At
diminished speed, she continued on her course.

"Phew, what a narrow escape!" exclaimed Jack, as the fog shut in about
the monster berg they had sheered.

"I thought we were goners, sure," declared Bill, soberly. "A little of
that sort of thing goes a long way. I---- Hark!"

From the lower decks there now came the confused noise of a frightened
crowd. Now and then, above, could be heard the shrieks of an hysterical
woman. Sharp, authoritative voices belonging, as the boys guessed, to
the officers, who were trying to quiet the panic-stricken throngs,
occasionally sounded above the babel.

"They're coming this way!" cried Jack suddenly, as a rush of feet could
be heard making for the ascents to the boat deck, where the wireless
coop was situated. "Bill, we'll be in the middle of a first-class panic
in a minute."

"Yes, if that crowd gets up here among the boats, there's going to be
the dickens popping," agreed Bill. "What will we do?"

"Run into the wireless room. In the drawer of the desk by the safe there
are two revolvers. One's mine and the other belongs to Poffer. Get them
on the jump."

It did not take Bill long to carry out his errand, but in even the short
time that he had been absent, the forefront of the terrified crowd from
below was almost at the head of the companionway leading from the
promenade to the boat deck. Jack had stationed himself at the head of
it.

"Keep cool, everybody," he was shouting; "there is no danger."

"The _Titanic_!" shrieked somebody. "We've hit an iceberg. We'll sink
like her."

"The boats!" shouted a man. "We'll lower 'em ourselves. We're sinking!"

In the gloom Jack could see the man's face, round and white, with a big
yellow mustache.

[Illustration: "Keep cool, everybody," he was shouting; "there is no
danger."--Page 42]

The fellow shoved two women, wedged in the throng, aside, and addressed
himself to Jack, who stood at the head of the companionway.

"Let me pass, you!" he bellowed, seemingly mad with fear. "I want a
place in the first boat. I----"

Jack felt Bill slip a revolver into his pocket. But he did not remove
the weapon, the time had not yet come for its use.

"Stop that noise," he told the yellow-mustached man bluntly. "Ladies and
gentlemen," he went on, "there's no danger. We merely grazed the berg.
Thank heaven the ship was swung in time to save her."

"Don't believe him," shrieked the terrified man. "Stand to one side
there. The boats!"

He made a rush for Jack and struck heavily at the young wireless
operator. But before his blow landed, Jack had crouched and the next
instant his fist shot out like a piston rod. The fellow staggered back,
but could not fall because of the pressure of humanity behind him.

It is difficult to say what might have happened had there not been
cooler heads in the crowd. Reassured by Jack's cool manner, these began
quieting the more timid ones. Just then, too, Captain Rollok and some of
his officers appeared. All carried drawn revolvers, for a disorganized
rush on the boats would have meant that scores of women would have been
trampled and many lives lost in the confusion.

The captain's firm, stern tones completed the work Jack and Bill had
begun. He assured the passengers that an examination had been made and
that no damage had been done. He also promised thereafter to run at a
more moderate speed. Gradually, the excited crowd calmed down, and some
sought their cabins. The greater part, however, elected to remain on
deck throughout the night.

The next morning the fog had somewhat cleared and the break-neck speed
of the ship was resumed. Jack was just resigning the key to young Poffer
when the doorway was darkened by a bulky figure. It was that of a big,
yellow-mustached man, whom Jack recognized instantly as the man who had
led the panic of the night before, and whom he had been forced to deal
with summarily.

He furiously glared at Jack, and the boy noticed that under his left eye
was a dark bruise, a memento of the previous night.

"What did you mean by striking me last night?" he began angrily. "I
demand your name. I will have you discharged."

"My name is Ready," answered Jack calmly, "and as far as having me
discharged is concerned, I'm afraid that will be impossible. You see I'm
here in what you might call an extra-official capacity."

"Bah! don't be impudent with me, boy. I am Herr Professor."

"Oh, a barber," smiled Jack, amiably.

The yellow-mustached man fairly growled. His light blue eyes snapped
viciously.

"I am Herr----"

"Oh, yes, I see you're here," responded Jack calmly. "You seem to be in
rather a bad temper, too."

"Boy, I will see that you are punished for this. I am a gentleman."

"Really, it would be as hard to tell it on you this morning as it was
last night," responded Jack, in quite unruffled tones.

"Be very careful, young man. I have already told you I am Herr
Professor."

"Oh, don't hang out the barber pole again," begged Jack.

The other shot a glance full of venom at the perfectly cool youth before
him. Then, apparently realizing that there was nothing to be gained from
indulging in tirades, he turned abruptly on his heel and strode to the
door. On the threshold he paused.

"I am going to report your conduct to the captain at once," he said.
"You will find out before long what such gross impertinence to a
passenger means."

"I shouldn't advise you to tell him about your behavior last night,
though," observed Jack.

"Why not?"

"Because from what I've observed of him, he is a rather hot-tempered man
and he might feel inclined to throw you out of his cabin--and it's quite
a drop from there to the promenade deck."

"You will hear more of this," snarled the infuriated man; but at Jack's
parting shot he made off, looking very uncomfortable.

Poffer regarded Jack with a look in which admiration and awe were oddly
blended.

"I dink you haf for yourself made idt troubles," he remarked.

"Trouble! In what way?" demanded Jack. "The fellow is an arrant coward.
He----"

"Ah yah, dot is so, but den he is Herr----"

"Gracious, have you got hair on your brain, too?"

"Yah," was the innocent response. "He is a big Professor at a Cherman
War College. He is a great man in Germany, der Herr Professor Radwig."

"Well, Mr. Earwig, or whatever his name is, may be a great man as you
say, Hans, my boy, but he is also a great coward. As for his threat to
make trouble with the captain, that does not bother me in the least. To
begin with, I'm only a volunteer, as it were, and in the second place,
I'll bet you a cookie or one of those big red apples you're so fond of,
that Mr. Earwig will avoid discussing the events of last night as much
as he can. I've heard the last of him."

But in this Jack was wrong. In days that lay ahead of the boys, they
were to find that Herr Professor Radwig was ordained to play no
unimportant part in their lives.




                              CHAPTER VI.

                         SMOKE ON THE HORIZON.


Late that afternoon Jack, who had just come on deck, was in time to
notice an unusual thrill of excitement among the already overwrought
passengers. On the northern horizon was a smudge of smoke, and a dark
hull bearing down on them. Those who had glasses had already announced
the other craft to be a warship, although, of what nation, it was as yet
impossible to say.

Jack hurried to the wireless room. Young Poffer declared that he had
received no wireless, nor intercepted any message which might have any
bearing on the identity of the strange ship. On the bridge, the ship's
officers were in excited consultation. The warship was drawing closer
every moment. She was black and squat, with two fat funnels from which
volumes of dark smoke rolled. At her bow was a smother of white foam
showing the speed at which she was being pushed.

"Ach, now comes it!" exclaimed Poffer the next instant. He wrote rapidly
and then handed the message to Jack. The wireless boy read:

           "Heave to at once.

           "Dutton, commanding His Majesty's ship _Berwick_."

"I'll take it forward right away!" exclaimed Jack. "You listen with all
your ears for any more messages, Hans."

"You bet you my life I will undt den some," Hans promised. "Vot you
dink, dey shood us up, Jack?"

"I don't know. I suppose if we don't heave to, they will," said the
wireless boy as he hurried off.

"Chust as I thought," declared Captain Rollok, after he had read the
message.

"Shall I tell Hans to send back word we'll stop?" asked Jack.

"Stop! I vouldn't stop for der whole British navy," declared Captain
Rollok vehemently.

He stepped to the engine room telegraph and set it violently over to
"Full speed ahead." Then he picked up the engine-room telephone and gave
orders to pile on every ounce of steam possible. The great ship quivered
and then sprang forward like a grayhound from a leash. Clouds of black
smoke rose from her funnels, deluging the decks with ashes as force
draught was applied to the furnaces.

Jack hastened back to the wireless room. He found Poffer, pop-eyed and
frightened looking.

"There's another cruiser coming up on the other side!" he exclaimed. "I
just heard her talking to the _Berwick_."

"That's nice," commented Jack, as Bill Raynor and de Garros appeared in
the doorway.

"Hullo, Bill," he continued. "You'll have a chance to be under fire
now."

"What do you mean?" demanded young Raynor.

"Surely it is that the captain will stop?" asked the French aviator.

"Stop nothing," rejoined Jack. "He doesn't appear to care what he risks,
so long as he saves his ship."

"I thought I felt her speeding up," said Bill. "So he's going to cut and
run for it?"

"That's the size of it," responded Jack, while the Frenchman shrugged
his shoulders.

"They are not understandable, these Germans," he commented.

"Here comes it anudder message," struck in Hans, holding up his hand to
enjoin silence.

They all looked over his shoulder as he wrote rapidly.

"Your last warning. Heave to or take the consequences."

It was signed as before by the commander of the _Berwick_.

"My friends, this captain had better heed that warning," said de Garros.
"Englishmen are not in zee habit of what zee call 'bluffing.'"

But when Jack came back from the bridge, whither he had sped at once
with the message, it was to report the captain as obdurate as ever. His
only comment had been to call for more speed.

"I guess he thinks we can show that cruiser a clean pair of heels," said
Raynor.

"That looks to be the size of it," agreed Jack, "but he is taking
desperate chances. Let's go outside and see the fun."

The cruiser was coming toward them on an oblique line now. From her
stern flowed the red cross of St. George on a white field, the naval
flag of England. They watched her narrowly for some minutes and then
Jack exclaimed:

"Jove! I believe that with luck we can outrun her. The _Kronprinzessin_
is the fastest ship of this line, and if her boilers don't blow up we
may be able to beat that cruiser out."

"I hope so," declared Raynor, fervently. "I'm not exactly a coward but I
must say the idea of being made a target without having the chance to
hit back is not exactly pleasant."

"As I shall be in zee thick fighting not before very long, I might as
well receive my baptism of fire now as any other time," said the
Frenchman. "I expect to be placed in charge of zee aviation corps, and I
am told zee Germans have some very good aeroplane guns."

"Look," cried Bill, suddenly, "they are going to----"

A white mushroom of smoke broke from the forward turret of the cruiser,
followed by a screeching above their heads. Then came an ear-splitting
report.

"Great guns! Where is this going to end?" gasped Bill, involuntarily
crouching.




                              CHAPTER VII.

                         A SHOT AT THE RUDDER.


"_Ach Himmel!_" groaned Hans Poffer. "Suppose dey hit us vee----"

He got no further. There was another burst of smoke, a quick,
lightning-like flash and the same screech of a projectile. But this
time, accompanying the sound of the report, was a sound of tearing metal
and the ship shook as if she had struck on the rocks.

"The after funnel," cried Jack, pointing to a jagged hole in the smoke
stack.

"The next one may come closer," choked out Bill rather shakily.

On the lower decks there was the wildest confusion. Women were fainting
and the stewards and petty officers had all they could do to handle the
frightened throngs. The striking of the funnel was the occasion for an
angry and badly scared deputation to wait upon the captain and demand
that he stop the ship at once.

But the deputation did not reach the bridge. They were met at the foot
of the stairway leading to it by a polite but firm officer who informed
them that under no circumstances would the captain tolerate any
interference with his method of running the ship.

A third shot, which went wide, closely followed the one that had struck
the after funnel. It flew high above them and caused Jack to observe:

"I don't believe they mean to hit the hull, but only to scare the
captain into heaving the boat to."

"Looks that way," agreed Bill, "and as for the scare part of it, I guess
they've succeeded, so far as everybody is concerned but Captain Rollok
and his officers."

"We are gaining on zee cruiser without a doubt," asserted de Garros,
whose eyes had been fixed on the pursuing sea fighter for some minutes.

"Yes, but look, there comes another," cried Jack, suddenly, pointing
astern. "That must be the one Poffer heard signaling to the _Berwick_."

"We're in for it now," said Bill. "I wish that pig-headed captain would
heave to and let them take the gold and the Germans, if that's all they
are after."

"Hullo!" exclaimed Jack, suddenly, as they all stood waiting nervously
to see the next flash and puff from the cruiser's turret. "I can see a
gleam of hope for us. See what's ahead!"

Ahead of them the sea appeared to be giving off clouds of steam as if it
was boiling. As yet this vapor had not risen high, but it was rapidly
making a curtain above the sunny waters.

"Fog!" cried Bill, delightedly.

"It cannot be too thick for me," said de Garros.

"Perhaps Captain Rollok foresaw this and that was why he refused to
halt," said Jack. "Certainly, if we can gain that mist bank before we
get badly injured, we'll be all right."

It was now a race for the thickening fog curtains. The cruisers appeared
to realize that if the _Kronprinzessin_ could gain the shelter of the
mist, there would be but small chance of their capturing her. Increased
smoke tumbling from their funnels showed that they were under forced
draught. But as their speed increased so did that of the "gold ship."

The gun boomed again on the _Berwick_, the foremost of the pursuers. The
projectile struck the stern of the liner and knocked the elaborate gilt
work wreathing, her name and port, into smithereens.

"Aiming at the rudder," commented Jack. "That's a good idea from their
point of view."

"But a mighty bad one from ours if they succeed in hitting it," said
Raynor, with a rather sickly laugh.

Two more shots, one of them from the second cruiser, flew above the
fugitive liner and then the mist began to settle round her
swiftly-driven hull in soft, cottony wreaths. In five minutes more the
fog had shut in all about her.

Then ensued a game of marine blind-man's buff. Captain Rollok, having
steamed at full speed some miles through the fog,--and this time there
were no protests from passengers,--altered his course and deliberately
steamed in circles.

"Hark!" exclaimed Jack, during one of these manoeuvers. "What was that?"

Out in the fog somewhere they could hear a sound like the soft beating
of a huge heart. It was the throbbing of another vessel's engines. To
the fear of the chase now was added the peril of collision, for in the
fog, dense as it was, the captain would not permit the siren to be
sounded.

It was almost impossible to tell from which direction the sound was
proceeding. It seemed to be everywhere. Was it another peaceful vessel
like themselves, or a man-of-war? Much depended on the answer to this
question.

All at once, with startling distinctness, a huge black bulk loomed up
alongside them. Through the fog they caught a sudden glimpse of crowded
decks and great guns projecting from grim-looking turrets. It was one of
the British cruisers. By grim irony, the fog had delivered them into the
hands of their pursuers.

"Great Scott, it's all off now!" cried Bill, as they simultaneously
sensed the identity of the other craft.




                             CHAPTER VIII.

                                LAND HO!


But the strange cruise of the _Kronprinzessin Emilie_ was not destined
to come to an end then, although, for an instant, it appeared so.
Whether the Britisher was mutually astonished, and in the confusion the
right orders were not given, or whatever the cause was, before they had
more than glimpsed her grim, dogged outlines, she faded away in the fog
and was blotted out.

"Phew! A few more close shaves like that and I'd be looking in the
mirror to see if my hair hasn't turned gray," said Jack.

"I wonder they didn't take some action," commented Bill, "although I'm
glad they didn't."

"Perhaps zey was so astonished zey forgot to fire zee gun," suggested de
Garros.

"I guess that was it," agreed Jack, "but just the same it was a mighty
lucky thing for us they didn't come to their senses sooner."

"Yes, this thing of playing tag in the fog gets on my nerves," muttered
Bill.

By nightfall, they had steamed through the fog belt, but every eye was
anxiously turned astern as if their owners expected at any moment to see
the ram-shaped bows of the black British sea bulldogs come poking put of
the mist.

But nothing of the sort happened, however, though late that night, far
to the eastward of their course, they could see the glowing fingers of
the cruisers' searchlights pointing in every direction across the sea.
The next day passed without any untoward happenings, and when, the
morning following, Jack gazed from the wireless coop he saw, in the
first faint light of dawn, that they were steaming along a strange,
unfamiliar, rugged coast.

By the time the passengers were astir, the outlines of the coast had
become dotted with cottages and houses, and in the midst of breakfast
they steamed into a harbor, and the anchor was dropped with a roar and a
rumble. Like a flash, the tables in the saloon were deserted. There was
a general rush for the deck.

"Why, that house over there looks just like my home at Bar Harbor,"
cried one woman.

Ten minutes later her words were confirmed. It _was_ Bar Harbor, Maine,
into which the sorely-harried liner had taken refuge under the neutral
protection of the Stars and Stripes. Not daring to run into New York or
Boston, the captain had selected the world-famous summer resort as a
harbor that the English cruisers would be the least likely to watch, and
his judgment proved sound. And so ended the cruise of the "gold ship,"
in whose strange adventures the boys were ever proud of having
participated. An hour after the great liner's arrival, she was almost
deserted by her passengers who were choking the telegraph wires with
messages.

The wireless disseminated far and wide the news of her safe arrival, and
they learned, ashore, that for days the fate of the "gold ship" had been
the puzzle of the country. All sorts of wild guesses had been printed as
to her whereabouts. She had been reported off the coast of Scotland and
again in the English Channel. One rumor had it that she had been
captured, another that she had been sunk and most of those on board
lost.

Not one of these guesses, however wild or probable, came within striking
distance of the extraordinary truth of the "gold ship's" flight across
the war-swept seas. The day after their arrival, and while the town was
still seething with excitement over the great liner's presence in the
harbor, Jack received a telegram at the hotel where he, Raynor and de
Garros had taken up temporary quarters. The message was from Mr. Jukes
and read as follows:

    "Learned by the papers of your safe return. Kindly call at my
    office as soon as possible after your arrival in New York.
    Important."

"What's in the wind now?" exclaimed Jack to Bill Raynor, who was with
him when he got the message.

"I haven't the slightest idea," said Raynor; "but I have a sort of
notion in the back of my head that your vacation is over."

"If you can call it a vacation," laughed Jack.

"Well then, perhaps experience would be a better word," substituted
Bill, also laughing.

That evening, arrangements having been made about the shipment of their
baggage to New York, the boys and the young French aviator obtained
their tickets from an agent of the steamship company, for the line was
bearing all expenses, and took a night train for home.

Almost as soon as they reached the city, Jack visited Mr. Jukes' office.

"Thank goodness you've come, Ready!" he exclaimed as soon as he had
shaken hands with the lad, upon whom, since their adventures in the
South Seas, he strangely came to rely; "the _St. Mark_ sails to-morrow
for Europe. I don't know yet, in the middle of this European muddle,
just what ports she will touch at. That must be settled by her captain
later on."

"But Mullen is on the _St. Mark_," began Jack. "I wouldn't wish to usurp
his job and----"

"And anyhow, it's your vacation," interpolated the magnate. "I know all
that, Ready, and depend upon it, you won't suffer by it if you agree to
my wishes. It isn't exactly as wireless operator I want you to sail on
the _St. Mark_, it's on a personal mission in part. My son, Tom, is
among the refugees somewhere in France. I don't know where. I haven't
heard a word since this war started, but the last I know he was auto
touring north of Paris. He may even have gone into Belgium, for that was
a part of his plan."

"And you want me to try to find him?" demanded Jack slowly.

"Yes, I know it's a big job, but I know that if anyone can carry it
through, you can. Expense is no object, spend all you like but find the
boy. This suspense is simply killing his mother and worrying me sick."

"I'm willing and glad to take the job, Mr. Jukes," said the young
wireless man, "but, as you say, it's a big undertaking and has about one
chance in a hundred of being successful. Besides, you may have heard of
him and his whereabouts even before the _St. Mark_ reaches Europe."

"I'll take my chances of that," declared the millionaire. "It's action
that I want. The feeling that something has actually been done to find
him."

"On these conditions, I'll go and do my best," said Jack.

"Thank you, Ready, thank you. I knew you wouldn't fail me. Now about
funds. They tell me finances are all topsy-turvy over there now. Nobody
can get any American paper money or travelers' checks cashed. That may
be Tom's fix. You'd better take gold. Here."

He drew a check book out of a drawer and wrote out a check of a size
that made Jack gasp.

"Get gold for that," he said, as he handed it over, "and when that's
gone, Linwood and Harding, of London, are my agents. Draw on them for
what you need. And, by the way, is there anybody you want to take with
you?"

"I was going to say, sir," said Jack, "that for a task like this, Bill
Raynor----"

"The very fellow. I'll never forget him in New Guinea. A splendid lad.
But will he go with you?"

"I rather think he will," rejoined Jack with a twinkle in his eye.




                              CHAPTER IX.

                            A STRANGE QUEST.


Readers of earlier volumes of this series will recall Tom Jukes, who,
after being cast away when his father's yacht burned at sea, was found
by Jack's clever wireless work. This was the youth,--he was about Jack's
own age,--whom the wireless boy had been commissioned to find. Although
the task appeared, as Jack had said, one almost impossible of
accomplishment, still Jack was boy enough to be delighted at the
prospect of traversing war-ridden Europe and possibly playing a part in
the mightiest struggle of all time. As for Bill Raynor, he was wild with
excitement at the idea. Uncle Toby Ready, when he was told of the
intended trip, shook his head and muttered something about "playing with
fire," but he was eventually won over and presented Jack with a dozen
bottles of the Golden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man and
Beast.

"If so be as you meet up with the Kaiser, or the King of England, or the
Czar, just give 'em a bottle with my compliments," he said in bestowing
the gift. "By the flying jib, it might be the means of building me up a
big European trade. Think of it, Cap'n Toby Ready, P. O. H. R.
H.--Physician in Ordinary to His Royal Highness. If you don't run acrost
any of them skippers of state you can just distribute it around careless
like, and draw special attention to the directions and to my address in
case the prescription should require to be refilled."

Jack promised, but it is to be feared that the Golden Embrocation never
got nearer Europe than the cabin of the square rigger _Jane Harding_, of
Halifax, Nova Scotia, which happened to be in the Erie Basin unloading
lumber. Captain Podsnap, of the _Jane Harding_, was an ardent admirer
of, and believer in, Captain Toby's concoctions which, as the compounder
boasted, never were known to do harm even where they didn't do good. To
Captain Podsnap, therefore, Jack hied himself perfidiously and made over
to him the gifts intended for ailing royalty.

The _St. Mark_ was what is known as a "popular" ship. That is, she
usually crossed with full cabins. But on the present trip there were a
bare score of passengers in the first cabin, not many more in the
second, while in the steerage were a couple of hundred travelers, mostly
reservists of the various countries at war, returning to Europe to take
up arms.

As they steamed down the harbor, the docks on each side of the river
could be observed to be crowded with idle steamers of all sizes, from
small freighters to huge four-funnelled liners. With smokeless stacks
and empty decks, they lay moored to their piers, offering an eloquent
testimonial to the almost complete paralysis of ocean traffic that
marked the earlier days of the war. Off Tompkinsville, Staten Island,
the dreadnought, _Florida_, swung at anchor, grim in her gray war
paint,--Uncle Sam's guardian of neutrality. It was her duty to keep
watch and ward over the port to see that no contraband went out of the
harbor on the ships flying the flags of combatting nations and in other
ways to enforce President Wilson's policy of "hands off."

With dipping ensign, the _St. Mark_ slipped by, after a brief scrutiny
by a brisk young officer. Then, down the bay she steamed, which the boys
had traversed only a few days before on the hunted _Kronprinzessin_.

"Well, Jack, old fellow," observed Raynor, as Jack leaned back after
sending a few routine messages of farewell and business of the ship,
"off again on our travels."

"Yes, and this time, thank goodness, we're under Uncle Sam's flag, and
that means a whole lot in these days."

"It does, indeed," agreed the other fervently, "but have you any idea
what port we are bound for?"

"Not as yet. We are to get instructions by wireless, either from the New
York or London offices."

"This a queer job we've embarked on, Jack," resumed Raynor, after a
pause in which Jack had "picked up" _Nantucket_ and exchanged greetings.

"It is indeed. I only hope we can carry it through successfully. At any
rate, it will give us an opportunity to see something of the war for
ourselves."

"It's a great chance, but as to finding Tom Jukes, I must say I agree
with you that a needle in a hay stack isn't one, two, three with it."

A heavily built man, dark bearded and mustached, entered the wireless
cabin. He had a despatch ready written in his hand.

"Send this as soon as possible, please," he said, handing it to Jack.

As his eyes met those of the young wireless man he gave a perceptible
start which, however, was unnoticed by either of the boys. Raynor was
paying no particular attention to the matter in hand and Jack was
knitting his brows over the despatch. It was in code, to an address in
New York and was signed Martin Johnson.

"I'm sorry, Mr. Johnson," said Jack, "but we can't handle this message."

"Can't? Why not?" demanded the passenger indignantly.

"Because it is in code."

"What's that got to do with it?"

"While the war lasts we have instructions not to handle code messages or
any despatches that are not expressed in English that is perfectly
plain."

"That's preposterous," sputtered the passenger angrily. "This is a
message on a business matter I tell you."

"If you'll write it out in English, I'll transmit it," said Jack;
"that's what I'm here for."

The man suddenly leaped forward. He thrust a hand in his pocket and
pulled out a roll of bills.

"Can I speak to you confidentially?" he asked, turning his eyes on
Raynor.

"Anything you've got to say you can say before my friend," said Jack.

"Then, see here--there's a hundred dollars in that roll," as he threw it
on the desk, "forget that code rule a while and it's yours."

"Look here, Mr. Johnson," said Jack coldly, "I've already told you what
my orders are. As for your money, if it was a million it would be just
the same to me."

"Bah! You are a fool," snapped the other, angrily snatching up the money
and flinging out of the cabin, crumpling the code message in his hand.

"That infernal boy again," he muttered, as he gained the deck outside.
"This only makes another score I have to settle with him. These
Americans, they are all fools. Well, Von Gottberg in New York will have
to go without information, that's all, if I can't find some way of
getting at the wireless."

"Say, Jack," asked Raynor, as the bearded man left the cabin, "did that
fellow remind you of anybody?"

"Who, Johnson?" asked Jack idly. "Why yes, now that you come to mention
it, there was something familiar about his voice and his eyes, but for
the life of me I couldn't place him."

"Nor I, and yet I've a strong feeling that we've met him somewhere
before."

"Johnsons are as thick as blackberries," commented Jack.

"Yes, but I don't connect that name with this man. It was some other
name altogether. Oh, well, what's the use of trying to recall
it--anyhow, Mr. Johnson, whoever he is, hasn't got a very amiable
temper. I thought he was going to swell up and bust when you refused
that message."

But further comment on the irate passenger was cut short at that moment
by a beating of dots and dashes against Jack's ears, to which one of the
"receivers" was adjusted. He hastily slipped the other into place and
then turned to Raynor with a grin.

"It's our old friend, the _Berwick_," he said. "She's outside waiting
for us, but this time, glory be, we're flying Old Glory."




                               CHAPTER X.

                            UNDER OLD GLORY.


Sandy Hook lay behind a dim blue line on the horizon, and the long
Atlantic heave was beginning to swing the _St. Mark_ in a manner
disconcerting to some of the passengers, before they came in sight of
the cruiser that had led the _Kronprinzessin_ such a harried chase.

"Looks familiar, doesn't she?" commented Jack, as they slowed down and
the _Berwick_ steamed up alongside, about five hundred yards off.

"If it hadn't been for that lucky fog, she'd have looked more familiar
yet," declared Bill. "Look, they're lowering a boat."

From the cruiser's side a small boat, crowded with uniformed sailors,
and in the stern sheets of which sat a smart junior officer, dropped
and, propelled by long, even strokes of the oars which rose and fell in
perfect unison, was presently coming toward the liner. The _St. Mark's_
accommodation ladder was lowered, and in a few minutes the young British
officer was aboard.

Every passenger was lined up in the saloon and compelled to answer
questions as to their nationality, etc. All passed satisfactorily. Then
came the turn of the second cabin and the steerage. From the second
cabin, two admitted German reservists were taken as prisoners of war and
in the steerage six more were found. They took their apprehensions
stoically, although they knew that they would probably be confined at
Halifax or Bermuda till the close of hostilities.

Jack and Bill Raynor watched these scenes with interest.

"I suppose it will be months, maybe years, before some of those poor
fellows see their homes again," said Bill.

"Yes, but it's what you might call the fortune of war," responded Jack
briefly.

So expeditiously was the work of culling out the reservists done that an
hour after the _Berwick's_ officers had boarded the liner, the last of
the prisoners was off and the ship's papers had been inspected and
O.K.'d. With mutual salutes, the two craft parted, the _Berwick_ to lie
"off and on," looking for commerce carriers of a hostile nation, the
_St. Mark_ to resume her voyage to a Europe which was even then crowded
with desperate, stranded American tourists unable to obtain money or
passage home.

At dinner time Muller, the _St. Mark's_ regular operator, relieved Jack,
and he was free for the evening. He elected to spend his leisure time
reading up in a text-book, lately issued, an account of the workings of
a new coherer that had recently been brought out.

But the fatigues of the day had made him drowsy and he soon dropped off
to sleep in the chair he had placed on the upper deck in the shelter of
a big ventilator. Despite the time of year there was a cool, almost a
chilly breeze stirring, and most of the small number of first-class
passengers were either in the smoking room or the saloon.

How long he slept Jack did not know, but he was awakened by the sound of
voices proceeding from the other side of the ventilator, which masked
him from the speakers' view. One of the voices, which Jack recognized as
belonging to Martin Johnson, grated harshly on his ears.

"If it hadn't been for that cub of a wireless boy," Johnson was saying,
"that message would have been in the hands of Von Gottberg by this
time."

"And so you haven't been able to send word about the British cruiser?"
inquired the other speaker.

"No, and from the same cause. I shall have to see what I can do with the
night operator. He may not be so absurdly scrupulous, unless that young
whelp who was on day duty has been talking to him."

"Did you say, Herr Professor, that you had met him before?" asked the
last speaker's companion.

"Yes, confound him, on the _Kronprinzessin Emilie_. I was--er--I was
trying to organize an orderly retreat to the boats after the alarm had
been spread that British cruisers were after us, when this young
scoundrel attacked me brutally."

"Didn't you report him to the captain?"

"Well, you see there were--er--reasons which made it unwise to do so."

"You bet there were, Herr Professor Radwig,--for I know who you are now,
Mr. Johnson," muttered Jack to himself. "No wonder I thought I knew you
in spite of your disguise."

"What are your present plans?" asked Mr. Johnson's, or rather, Herr
Professor Radwig's companion.

"I shall have to see. You understand wireless, Schultz?"

"Intimately. Why, you have some idea--?"

"Never mind now. It is getting chilly. Let us go to our cabins. I will
talk to you more about this to-morrow."

The voices died away as the two left the upper deck. Jack, wide awake
now, sprang to his feet. Clearly there was some mischief concerning the
wireless in the air. But of the nature of the impending scheme he could
not hazard a guess.

"Anyhow, I'll just put Muller wise to what's going on," thought Jack.
"He's a decent, square fellow, who wouldn't stand for any monkey
business. How to deal with Herr Radwig is another matter. I guess I'll
sleep on it. If only those chaps on the _Berwick_ knew who they had
overlooked on their hunt for Germans, wouldn't they be mad as hornets!"




                              CHAPTER XI.

                      THE "HERR PROFESSOR" AGAIN.


It was not part of Jack's plan to apprise Muller of the identity of Mr.
Johnson. He did not wish to act prematurely in any way till he had
consulted Raynor and a plan of campaign had been worked out.

"That guy certainly won't try any monkey-shines with me," Muller assured
Jack slangily, but with a sincere ring in his voice, and Jack knew he
could trust him.

Then he sought out Bill, whom he found in the latter's cabin writing
letters.

"Well, Bill," he began. "I've solved the mystery of Mr. Johnson."

Bill's writing was instantly forgotten.

"You mean that peppery chap?"

"The same person. He's an old friend of yours. You were not mistaken
when you said that you thought you recognized his voice."

"The dickens you say?" Bill was all attention now. "And who is he?"

"Why,--as the nickel novels say,--none other than our old college chum,
Herr Professor Radwig."

"For gracious' sake!" Bill's expression left no doubt as to the
genuineness of his astonishment. "Old Earwig turned up again, eh?"

"Yes, and from some not very complimentary remarks he made about me,
Bill," continued Jack, "I don't think he'd be averse to doing me some
mischief, if he could."

"He'd better not try." Bill doubled his fists pugnaciously.

"The trouble is, I didn't overhear enough to find out just what his
little game is."

"That's too bad. It's a shame we didn't know his identity earlier. We
would have earned the thanks of that English cruiser."

"We certainly would. De Garros told me that Radwig is accounted a very
clever and dangerous man. He has invented explosives and is active in
the entire German military movement."

"By the way, where is de Garros?" asked Bill.

"I don't know any more than you do. After we left him at the depot in
New York on our return from Bar Harbor, I lost sight of him. In fact,
things have gone on with such a rush since then, that I haven't had time
to think of him till now. He told me, though, that he would take the
first ship possible to France."

"Well, to get back to old Earwig."

"Yes."

"Are you going to expose him?"

"Expose him to whom?"

"The captain, for instance."

"What would be the good? He has committed no crime. If he wants to
travel under a false name that is not our business so long as he does
not interfere with us."

"That's true, but just the same, if we are boarded by another British
cruiser, I'll have something to whisper in the boarding officer's ear,"
said Bill, truculently.

"I wish we knew who this Schultz was," confessed Jack.

"Does that name appear on the passenger lists?"

"On none of them. Besides, if it had, the man would have been questioned
by that officer from the _Berwick_. He quizzed everybody with a name
that even sounded German."

"That's so," admitted Bill; "he certainly went through the ship with a
rake. I guess old Earwig's friend has some American sounding name that
will carry him safe across the ocean no matter what happens."

Soon after, Jack sought his berth in the wireless room. As he approached
the opened door of the radio station, from which a flood of yellow light
issued, he saw, or thought he saw, two lurking figures in the shadow of
one of the boats. But even as he sighted them, they vanished.

For an instant, Jack assumed that they were two of the boat crew but, as
they scurried past an open port, he saw they wore ordinary clothes and
not the sailor uniforms of the crew.

"Odd," he mused. "Those fellows were certainly hanging around the
wireless room for no good purpose. If they had been, they wouldn't have
sneaked the instant they saw me coming. I'm willing to bet a cookie one
of them was Earwig and the other his precious pal who understands
wireless. Jack, old boy, it's up to you to keep your eyes open."

"Anything doing?" he asked Muller, as he entered the wireless room.

"Not a thing. Deader than a baseball park on Christmas Day," rejoined
Muller.

"You didn't see anything of our friend, for instance?"

"Who, Johnson? No, he hasn't been near here."

Jack nodded good-night and then turned in. But as the ship bored on
through the darkness his eyes refused, as they customarily did, to close
in his usual sound sleep.

His mind was busy with many things. It was clear that Radwig was
contemplating some use of the wireless which did not yet seem quite
clear. That it was his duty to checkmate him Jack was convinced, but as
yet he had little to go upon except the conversation overheard behind
the ventilator.

"I guess watchful waiting will have to be the policy," he murmured to
himself as he fell asleep.




                              CHAPTER XII.

                           THE ARMED CRUISER.


The next morning, when Jack and Bill turned out, there was quite a
flutter among the passengers. A large ship had been sighted in the
distance, coming rapidly westward. As she drew nearer it could be seen
that she was a monster craft of four immense funnels painted a sombre
black without colored bands to relieve the effect. Her upper works were
a dull brown and her hull, black.

Speculation was rife concerning her identity, but it soon became noised
about that the craft was the _Ruritania_ of the Anglican Line, which
had, apparently, been converted into an auxiliary cruiser by the English
Government on the outbreak of the war. The sight of guns mounted on her
fore and aft decks confirmed this.

On she came, a fine, grim spectacle in her dull paint. An absorbed
shipload watched her, leaning over the rails as she drew abreast.

"Lie to!"

The signals fluttered from her halliards and the same order was flashed
by wireless.

For the second time the _St. Mark's_ engines revolved more and more
slowly. The two big vessels lay opposite each other on the swells,
nodding solemnly. Before long a boat came bobbing over the seas from the
_Ruritania_.

"Now's your chance to give that fellow Earwig up," declared Raynor to
Jack, as, leaning in the door of the wireless room, they watched the
scene.

"Somehow it seems to me that would be a shabby trick," said Jack, after
a moment's thought. "I'll confess, though, that when the _Ruritania_
hove in sight such a thought came into my mind. But--oh, well, I guess
we'll let him get by this time."

"Maybe you'll be sorry for it later on," said Raynor, little guessing
that those words were prophetic. There was to come a time when Jack was
to bitterly regret having let Radwig escape capture by the British.

The inspection by the naval reserve officer of the _Ruritania_ did not
vary from that which the _St. Mark_ had already undergone at the hands
of the _Berwick_. Naturally, the German reservists having been already
given up, there was little to do but to overhaul the ship's papers. This
did not take long, and before half an hour had passed, the two
steamships saluted each other and parted company.

That afternoon Jack had a visitor in the wireless room. It was Mr.
Johnson. He opened the conversation ingratiatingly.

"I'm afraid I rather lost my temper the other afternoon," he said. "I
want to apologize."

"That's all right," said Jack briefly, choking back a longing to tell
Mr. Johnson that he was perfectly aware of his identity.

"I--er--perhaps what I offered was not enough," he continued. "I may
tell you now that I will double or triple the amount if you will send a
message for me,--using a code, of course."

Jack jumped to his feet, his eyes ablaze.

"See here, sir," he shot out, "you might offer me all the money there is
in Germany but it would not be of the slightest interest to me. Now if
you have nothing more to say, I'll ask you to leave this cabin before
I----"

The angry boy checked himself with his hands clenched and his eyes
flashing. A murderous look came into Mr. Johnson's bearded face, but he
appeared to be determined to keep himself in check.

"Do not be foolish," he urged; "have an eye to your own interests. As
for your reference to Germany----"

"You are going to say that you don't understand it," cut in Jack.

"Well, I must say I----"

"Don't go any further," interrupted the angry young wireless boy, "and
now 'Mr. Johnson,' or Herr Radwig, I'll ask you to leave."

Radwig looked for a moment as if he was about to choke. His face turned
purple and his hands clenched and unclenched nervously. The sweat stood
out in tiny beads on his forehead.

"What do you mean----?" he began.

Jack leaned forward and looked at him significantly.

"Just this, Herr Professor, that in spite of that fake beard and your
dyed mustache, I know you. Your reason for being disguised and going
under a false name is no business of mine _now_. See that you don't make
it so."

"You--you----" sputtered the man who was startled in the extreme.

"And furthermore," continued Jack, "we are likely to run across some
more British ships. If you annoy me any more, I shall point you out for
what you are. That will be all. Now go."

Utterly bereft of words, Radwig turned heavily and half fell out of the
cabin. He collided with Bill Raynor, who was just coming in. He fairly
snarled at Jack's chum, who airily remarked:

"Don't slam the door when you're going out!"

"You young whipper snapper, I--I----" choked out Radwig, and being too
discomfited to find words, ended the sentence by shaking his fist at the
two boys.

"Well," said Raynor, as Radwig vanished, muttering angrily to himself,
"it would appear as if you'd spilled the beans, Jack."

"It does look that way, doesn't it?" said Jack with a smile. "I rather
fancy our Teutonic friend will be good for a while now."




                             CHAPTER XIII.

                           A MESSAGE IN CODE.


"What happened?" was Raynor's next question.

"Oh, he came in here and offered me untold gold to send a code message
for him. I fancy that it was about the _Ruritania_, telling her
whereabouts and so on."

"So that was his game, eh?"

"Well, he didn't work it. I got mad and told him that he needn't bother
to conceal his identity from me, and that if he bothered me any more I'd
show him up to the first British officer that again boarded us."

"Phew! Going some. How did he take it?"

"I thought he was going up like a balloon for a minute," laughed Jack.
"Now, if we only could identify Schultz, we'd have both of them where we
want them."

"That's going to be a hard job," declared Bill. "They don't go about
together. At least, I've watched closely, but never saw Radwig talking
with anyone on board."

"No, I guess they keep pretty well under cover for fear of accident. I
wish I could have gotten a look at them that night I overheard them
talking."

"Yes, it would have simplified matters a good deal," Bill admitted,
"but, as you say, I don't think either of them will try to bother us
again."

The day passed uneventfully. In the afternoon they sighted a small
British freighter making her way west, and later on overtook a French
oil ship bound for Holland. Jack flashed them the latest war news, for
they had a small wireless outfit, and in return received the information
that two German cruisers were somewhere in the vicinity and that the
French ship was in fear of capture at any time.

That evening the wind blew rather hard. A high sea was whipped up by the
gale and the _St._ _Mark_, big as she was, rolled and pitched violently.
It was what sea-faring men would have called "a fresh breeze," but to
the passengers, that is, such of them as were unseasoned travelers, it
was a veritable storm.

Jack and Bill rather enjoyed the rough weather, coming as it did after a
monotonous calm. After dinner they ascended to the boat deck and paced
up and down, chatting for some time. Inside the wireless room Muller was
at the key. Now and then, as they passed and repassed, they would
exchange a word with him. It was on one of these occasions that Muller
hailed them excitedly.

"There's a ship just wirelessed the S. O. S.!" he exclaimed.

"Great Scott," cried Jack, "and on a night like this. What's the
trouble?"'

"Don't know yet. I'm trying to get them again. Notify the captain, will
you?"

"On the jump," cried Jack.

He despatched his errand in a few minutes, and was back in the wireless
room with instructions to "stand by" and get further information as soon
as possible.

"Anything new?" he asked Muller.

The wireless man shook his head.

"Nothing but that first S. O. S.," he said.

Suddenly there came a shout from Bill, who was standing in the door.

"Look, Jack, what's that off there?" he exclaimed, pointing to the
horizon.

A dull glow was reflected against the night sky in the direction he
indicated. Now it flashed bright as a blown furnace, and again it sank
to a faint glare. Jack was not long in deciding what it was.

"It's a ship on fire," he declared.

At almost the same moment a hoarse shout from the forward lookout and a
shouted reply from the bridge told that the glare had been observed from
there, too.

Possibly there is nothing at sea that thrills like the sight of a vessel
on fire. Jack, it will be recalled, had witnessed such a spectacle
before, but yet his heart bounded as he watched the distant glare now
bright and glowing, now dull and flickering.

"Hullo, the old man has rung for full speed ahead!" exclaimed Bill, as
the next moment the _St. Mark's_ speed was perceptibly quickened and her
course changed.

Several seamen in charge of the third officer, a Mr. Smallwood, came
trampling aft. They busied themselves loosening the fastenings of one of
the boats and getting it ready for launching. Presently they were
joined, and three additional craft were made ready for the work of life
saving.

All this time the glow had been getting brighter as the _St. Mark_
approached the burning ship. But the distance was as yet too great to
make out what manner of vessel she was.

"I'd give anything to get in one of those boats," observed Jack to Bill,
as the two lads watched the preparations for lowering away.

"So would I," agreed Bill. "Do you think there's a chance?"

"I don't know. I 'deadheaded' a radio for Mr. Smallwood to his sick
mother the day we sailed. That might have some influence with him. I'll
ask him anyhow."

Jack vainly pleaded with the at first obdurate officer, but after a long
interval, he returned to Bill with a smile on his face.

"It's all right," he announced. "It was a hard job to get him to
consent. I won him over at last. We go."

"Hurray!" cried Bill. "Now for some oilskins! It's not the sort of night
to be without them."

"I've got mine in the cabin," said Jack. "I'll borrow Muller's for you."

"Good for you. Gosh! Look at those flames. Seems to be a big steamer."

Both boys paused a moment to look at the awe-inspiring spectacle of the
blazing ship.

As they did so, something occurred which chilled the hot blood in their
veins and caused them to exchange startled, bewildered looks.

Over the dark, heaving waters that divided them from the blazing vessel
there was borne to their ears what sounded like an awful concerted groan
of agony. Again and again it came, rising and falling in a terrible
rhythm. It was not human. It sounded like the sufferings of demons.

"Wow! But that's fearful!" exclaimed Bill, paling. "What under the sun
can it be?"




                              CHAPTER XIV.

                            THE CATTLE SHIP.


The awesome sound continued while the boats were being lowered. The
weird nature of the uproar and its mystery made even the rough seamen
apprehensive. The more religious among them crossed themselves
fervently.

"Bad cess to it, if it don't sound like the howling of poor sowls in
purgathory," muttered one of them.

As the boat in which he and Bill were sitting beside Mr. Smallwood was
lowered, Jack glanced upward and had a view of the lighted decks, the
rails being lined with the heads of curious and excited passengers. Then
came a sickening swing outward as the ship rolled.

"Let go all or we'll be smashed!" shouted Mr. Smallwood.

For a moment, as the ship heaved back, it seemed indeed, as if the boat
was doomed to be dashed against her steel sides and smashed into
splinters. But in the nick of time the "falls" were let go "all
standing." The boat rushed downward and struck the top of a great wave
with a force that shook her. The next instant, the patent blocks opened
and on the crest of the great comber Mr. Smallwood's boat, and the
others, were swept off into the darkness.

Behind them arose a mighty cheer, but they hardly noticed it in the
excitement and danger of the launching.

"A bad night for this work," muttered Mr. Smallwood as the boat was
lifted heavenward and then rushed down into a dark profundity from which
it seemed impossible she could emerge. A blood red glow from the leaping
flames enveloping the stern of the doomed craft, which was a large,
single funneled steamer, lay on the roughened sea.

"Are there passengers on board, do you think?" asked Jack, rather
tremulously, as the blood-chilling uproar from the burning vessel
continued.

"Looks to me more like a freighter--hard there on the bow-oars,--meet
that sea,--she has no upper decks," replied the third officer.

"I don't see anybody on board her, either," said Bill, after an
interval, during which the boat escaped swamping, as it seemed to the
boys, by a miracle only.

"Let's hope they got away," said the third officer, "but that devil's
concert on board beats me. It's not human, that's one sure thing. What
in blazes is it?"

"It gives me the shivers," confessed Bill.

The noise grew positively deafening as they got closer. The intense heat
of the blaze and the shower of falling embers that enveloped them added
to their discomfort.

"Row toward the bow," roared Mr. Smallwood, cupping his hands, "or we'll
have the boats afire next."

Already several of the seamen had hastily extinguished portions of their
clothing that had caught, and burns on hands and faces were plentiful.
But as they pulled toward the blazing craft's bow, this annoyance was
avoided, the wind blowing the heat and embers from them.

All at once, as they swung upward on the crest of an immense comber,
Jack uttered a shout:

"The mystery's solved."

"What do you mean?" demanded Mr. Smallwood.

"The mystery of that horrible noise. That's a cattle ship yonder, and
the poor beasts are mad with fear."

The next wave gave them a clear view of tossing horns and heads as the
unfortunate cattle, penned on the burning craft, rushed madly about the
decks, in vain seeking some means of relief. It was a piteous sight, for
there was no way of saving them from being burned alive unless the ship
sank first.

"Oh, but that's awful!" gasped Jack, with a shudder.

"Look, look up on the bow!" cried Bill suddenly. "There's a man. He's
seen us."

"He's waving," cried Mr. Smallwood. "Hurrah! Give way, men! There's a
poor beggar roasting on that ship."

But the boat's crew needed no urging. In the lee of the burning cattle
ship the water was smoother and they could make better time. Silhouetted
against the glare, too, every man of them could see, by a twist of his
head, that solitary marooned figure on the bow of the fire ship.

As the first boat,--Mr. Smallwood's,--ranged in alongside the high steel
prow, Jack's quick eye caught sight of a rope dangling from the great
steel anchor chains. By what impulse he did it he could not have
explained, but as the boat ranged close alongside he poised for an
instant on the heaving gunwale and then launched his body forward into
space.

"Come back, boy!" shouted Mr. Smallwood. But by the time the words had
left his mouth, Jack was scrambling up the rope amidst the cheers of the
men in the tossing boats now far below him. It was the work of a few
moments only to gain the anchor chain, and to climb up them was, for a
lad of Jack's brawn and activity, an easy task.

"Thank heaven you came before it was too late," cried the solitary man
on the fore deck, staggering toward the boy with outstretched arms.

"Are you the only man on board?" demanded the boy, deciding to leave
explanations till later.

"No, Dick Sanders is sick in his bunk below."

"Where, down this hatchway? In the forecastle?" asked Jack quickly.

"Yes, I was too weak to carry him up, heaven help me," muttered the
other reeling weakly.

Jack did not stop to listen. He knew that within a few minutes his
shipmates would be on board and would rescue the half-crazed man on the
bow. It was his duty to go after the sick man below. Into the
ill-smelling darkness of the forecastle of the cattle ship he plunged,
clawing his way down an iron ladder. At the bottom he struck a match. As
its light flared up he heard a groan, and looking in the direction from
which it came he espied the emaciated form of a boy lying in a bunk.

"Have you come to save me?" gasped out the sick lad, who was almost a
skeleton and whose eyes glowed with unnatural brightness in his
parchment-like face.

"Yes, but you must do exactly what I tell you," instructed Jack.

"I will, oh, I will," choked out the other. "Only save me. I was afraid
I was going to be left here to die alone."

"Don't talk about dying now," ordered Jack. "Now clasp your arms round
my neck and hold on tight. Do you think you can keep your grip till we
get to the top of that ladder?"

"Yes--that is, I think so," returned the sick lad, who had been cabin
boy on the doomed ship.

"Then, hold on," ordered Jack as, having carried his pitifully light
burden across the forecastle to the foot of the ladder, he prepared to
ascend the rounds. Once or twice he had to stop on the way up, and
holding on with one hand, grasp Dick Sanders with his other arm to allow
the lad to recruit his strength. At last they reached the deck and Jack,
who was almost exhausted, laid his frail burden down with a sigh of
relief.

He looked about for his companions, who he fully expected to see on the
forecastle. There was no sign of them.

The lone man who had waved to them from the bow had also vanished. A
rope ladder, one end of which was secured inboard, showed the way they
had gone.

"Queer that they didn't wait for me," muttered Jack. "They must have
known I was below. I wonder----"

There was a sudden warning shout from somewhere.

"Look out for your life!" came in Mr. Smallwood's voice.

Jack looked up, startled. The burning ship was a flush-decked craft.
That is, her forecastle was not raised, but was on a level with the main
deck where the cattle pens were. The terrified creatures, in their
frenzy of fear, had broken loose from the flimsy timber structure, and
now, urged on by the flames behind them, were charging down in a wild
stampede upon Jack and the half-conscious form of the sick boy at his
feet.

It was not possible to effect a retreat down the forecastle hatch, for
his efforts to support himself on the journey up had been too much for
Dick Sanders' strength.

Jack looked about him. It was imperative to act with desperate
swiftness.

Now, not fifty feet from him was the advance guard of the maddened,
fear-crazed steers. In a few seconds, if he did not act swiftly, both he
and the lad he had rescued would be pounded by their sharp hoofs into an
unrecognizable mass.

Suddenly he formed a resolution. With desperate eagerness he stripped
off his oilskins and kicked off the light deck shoes he had not thought
to change in the hurry of embarkment. Then, picking up the fragile form
of Dick in his arms, he sped for the side of the forecastle.

As the long-horned steers swept down so close to him that he could feel
their breaths and see the whites of their frenzied eyes, the boy leaped
up and outward into the night.




                              CHAPTER XV.

                           JACK'S BRAVE LEAP.


What happened after the leap, Jack never knew clearly. He felt a wild,
half-suffocating rush through the air and then a sensation of choking
and strangling as a cold, stifling weight of water pressed in on him.
Down, down, down he plunged. It seemed as if he would never rise. In his
ears was an intolerable drumming. Everything was blood-red before his
eyes.

Then came a sudden blast of blessed air, following a swift upward rush,
and he found himself struggling in the wild sea with Dick Sanders
clinging desperately to him and almost making him go under again.

Luckily Jack, without conscious thought, had chosen the lee side of the
burning ship, where the boats hovered, for his leap for two lives. As
his head appeared above the surface, the bright glare of the flames
showed his form clearly to the anxious watchers who had witnessed his
daring dive.

"There he is! Hurrah!" shouted Bill Raynor, who was the first to see
him. "Hold on, Jack, old boy, we'll be with you in just a second."

"Keep up your heart! We'll get you!" bellowed Mr. Smallwood.

Jack essayed a feeble wave in response, with the result that he was once
more engulfed. But in a few moments he was safe and a dozen pairs of
strong arms had drawn him and Dick Sanders into Mr. Smallwood's boat.

"Heavens, lad, what a dive," cried the third mate admiringly, when Jack
was somewhat recovered and Dick lay covered with seamen's coats on the
floor of the boat.

"Gracious, we thought you were a goner!" exclaimed Raynor, "when the
cattle made the first charge. I guess you didn't hear it, being below.
We all came close to being caught. The man on the forecastle, who was
unconscious by the time we got on board, was reached in time to be
lowered into one of the boats. In the confusion, we thought you were
among us. It was not till we reached the boats again that we found our
mistake."

"In the meantime," said Mr. Smallwood, "those poor devils of steers had
reached the rail and not liking the look of the water any better than
the fire, charged back again. It was just as the second 'wave,' as you
might call it, was coming for you that we saw you weren't with us.
Suddenly we sighted you with that poor kid there," he nodded to the
bottom of the boat, "right in the line of their charge."

"If it hadn't been for your warning shout, I might not have been here
now," said Jack.

"I saw that and so I yelled with all my power," said the third officer,
"but lad," he went on, slapping Jack on the back, "when I saw what you
were going to do, I regretted having warned you."

"It was the only thing to do," said Jack. "We wouldn't have stood a
chance if we had remained where we were," and he explained that it was
impossible to find shelter on the flush deck or to retreat back into the
forecastle.

"Well, all's well that ends well," said Mr. Smallwood, "but it gave me a
turn when I saw you come sky-hottling off that bow. But,--great
Christmas,--look yonder."

He pointed back at the burning ship. By her own light they saw her pitch
heavily forward, hesitate an instant and then, without further warning,
and amidst a piteous bellowing that sounded like a death-wail, shoot
downward to the depths of the ocean. In an instant the light she had
spread across the rough sea had vanished, and by contrast, the night
appeared to have suddenly solidified about them in velvety blackness. A
moment later a blinding white light groped across the waste of tossing
waters and enveloped them in its glow. It was the searchlight of the
_St. Mark_ and it accompanied them with its cheering light till they
reached the ship's side.

They were greeted amid acclamation, and Dick Sanders was at once taken
charge of by the ship's doctor and some lady passengers. The man who had
been rescued had, by this time, however, sufficiently recovered to
accompany Mr. Smallwood, Bill and Jack to Captain Jameson's cabin, where
that officer was eagerly waiting to hear the details of the rescue.

The rescued sailor, whose name was Mark Cherry, soon told them the story
of the disaster to the _Buffalonian_, a British cattle ship which had
left New York for London several days previously. Early that evening the
craft had been overtaken by a German cruiser and ordered to surrender.
Every one on board was made prisoner, and some of the cattle taken, when
the British captain, seized by a sudden fit of anger, struck the German
commander in the face. He was instantly ironed, as were his officers,
Mark Cherry observing all this from under the cover of a boat where he
had been working when the cruiser took the cattle craft, and in which he
had remained hidden.

In revenge, apparently, for the British captain's attack on him, the
German commander had, on his return to his own ship, ordered the
_Buffalonian_ fired upon by the big guns. The hidden sailor crouched in
terror in his place of concealment while the cannon boomed. He thought
his last hour had come. The projectiles shrieked through the sternworks
of the ship and one, he thought, had struck amidships (which accounted
for the vessel's foundering).

At length, appearing to tire of this, the German cruiser put about and
steamed away. Cherry crept from his hiding place where he had remained
paralyzed with fright throughout the bombardment, and making for the
wireless room sent out the only signal he knew, the S. O. S., which he
had learned from a friendly wireless man, in case there ever came a time
when it would be a matter of life and death to him to use it. This
explained why no answer came to Muller's frantic calls after the first
distress signal.

It was only a few moments after this call that flames burst from the
shattered stern, and Cherry knew that unless help came, his hours were
numbered. So confused and terrified was he by his desperate situation,
that it was not till Jack's appearance on the scene, he remembered
little Dick Sanders, the cabin boy, lying sick in his bunk below. (It
may be said here that with care and good treatment the lad quickly
recovered his health, and he and Mark Cherry were put to work with the
crew of the _St. Mark_.) Thus, without further incident, the English
Channel was reached and Jack began busily to try to communicate with the
firm's London agents for instructions as to docking orders.




                              CHAPTER XVI.

                            AWAITING ORDERS.


While awaiting orders, which the wireless had told the _St. Mark's_
captain were not ready for transmission, the big liner stood "off and
on" at the mouth of the channel. It was wearing work, and all looked
forward eagerly to the day when their destination would be settled and
they could proceed.

Jack felt the monotony of it no less than anyone else on board, but he
spent a good many busy hours perfecting an attachment for a wireless
coherer which he hoped would prove of great value in the future, and
possibly prove as profitable as the Universal Detector, to which
allusion has already been made in "The Ocean Wireless Boys" and "The
Naval Code." One night, after working for some time at some rather
abstruse calculations in this connection, he decided to abandon the work
for the night and take a stroll on deck before turning in.

Raynor, he knew, was finishing up the last of a series of match games of
checkers, so he did not bother to look up his friend. Knowing that Bill
was busily engaged, Jack was rather surprised when, at his fourth or
fifth turn up and down the deck, which was almost deserted, a steward
stepped up to him with a note.

It proved to be from Raynor and read as follows:

    "Dear Jack:

      "Meet me at once in the stern where we can talk without being
    spied on. The steward will show you where. I have something
    important to tell you about Radwig.

                                                             "BILL."

"This is very peculiar," mused Jack, and then, turning to the steward he
asked:

"Did Mr. Raynor give you this?"

"Yes, sir, and he told me to bring you to where he was waiting, sir,"
was the obsequious response.

"All right, lead on," said Jack and then to himself he added: "I can't
in the least make out why old Bill should be so secretive. I might just
as well have met him in his cabin. But maybe he is being watched, and
thinks the place he has appointed would be better."

The steward led the way aft through a maze of corridors and passages. At
last they arrived far in the stern of the ship where the unlighted
passages showed no cabins were occupied. The twenty first-class
passengers had all been booked amidships, thus the hundreds of cabins
opening on the stern passages were unoccupied and nobody went near them.

"You've no idea why Mr. Raynor selected this part of the ship to meet
me?" said Jack, as he followed the man who lighted the way with an
electric torch.

"No, sir," he replied, with a shake of his head. "I suppose he had his
reasons, sir."

"No doubt, but this is an odd part of the ship to keep an appointment,"
said Jack. "We must be far away from the occupied cabins."

"Oh, yes, sir. Almost a tenth of a mile. Wonderful, ain't it, sir, the
size of these big ships? A fellow could yell his lungs out in this part
of the vessel, sir, and things, being as they are, and the cabins empty
and all, nobody could hear him."

"I suppose not," said Jack idly. "Are we nearly there?"

"Yes, sir. Just turn down this passage, sir. Right to the left, sir,
mind that step and--" Crash!

A great burst of light, as if a sudden explosion had occurred in front
of him blinded Jack, and at the same instant he felt a violent blow on
the back of the head. Then the bright light vanished with a loud report
and he seemed to swim for an instant, in blackness. Everything went out,
as if a light had been switched off, and the lad pitched heavily forward
on his face.

"Good, that will settle his hash for a while," muttered a voice, and
Radwig, a short, wicked-looking bludgeon in his hand, bent over the
senseless boy. By the German's side was another man, a short, thick-set,
clean-shaven fellow with a projecting jaw, known on the passenger list
as Mr. Duncan Ewing, of Chicago.

The light of the steward's torch illumined their faces as they stood
above the recumbent young wireless boy.

"I say, sir," muttered the man, "I know you've paid me well and all,
sir, but I didn't bargain for no murdering business, sir. I----"

"Don't be an idiot," snapped Radwig impatiently. "We haven't hurt him.
See, he's beginning to stir. Now then, Schultz----"

Radwig bent and took up the limp body by the head while Mr. Duncan
Ewing, who answered with alacrity to the name of Schultz, laid hold of
poor Jack by the feet.

"Now, steward," said Radwig, as they carried their burden into an empty
cabin, "keep a stiff upper lip till we dock, and then I don't care what
happens. You'll be well taken care of. Don't forget that."

"Yes, sir, I know, sir," said the man, whose hand was trembling as he
held the torch; "but I don't like the business, sir. If it wasn't for my
poor wife being sick and needing the money, and all---"

"That will do. Go get us the lamp you promised. In the meantime we'll
revive this young fellow and show you that he's not dead."

From a carafe of stale water that stood on the washstand, Radwig dashed
a liberal application in Jack's face. He loosened the lad's collar and
chafed his wrists. Jack moaned, stirred, and opened his eyes. For a
moment his swimming senses refused to rally to his call. Then, with a
flash, he realized what had happened.

"Radwig, you scoundrel!" he exclaimed, "what is the meaning of this
outrage?"

"Just a delicate little way of reminding you that it is not well to
thwart the wishes of Herr Professor Radwig," was the reply. "Schultz, my
dear fellow, shut that door. No, wait a moment, here comes our man with
the lamp. That's better."

He took the lamp from the steward, and set it in a frame on the wall
provided for it in case the electric light failed from any cause. The
steward, still pale and shaky, hurried away after one glance at Jack.

"And now," said Radwig, "we will leave you to your reflections, my young
friend. It will do you no good to shout. Under present conditions this
part of the ship is uninhabited. No one comes near it. As for trying to
force the door after we have gone, it would be wasted labor. I have
taken the pains to affix bolts to the outside of it. Bread you will
find, and some water, under the bunk. I advise you to be sparing of it,
for you will not get any more and now--_auf wiedersehn_."

He opened the door, motioned Schultz out, and turned a malevolent smile
on the boy. With a shout, Jack flung himself forward, but the door
slammed in his face.

He heard a laugh from outside, a laugh that made his blood boil and his
fists clench. He fell against the door and wrenched at it furiously. But
already the bolts outside had been shot into place and the portal held
firmly.

"Now don't lose your temper," begged Radwig mockingly from without;
"it's very bad, very bad for the digestion. I would recommend you to
spend your time mediating over the manifest advantages of being
obliging. Good-night."

Jack, listening at the bolted door, heard their footsteps die away down
the deserted passageway.




                             CHAPTER XVII.

                    WHAT BEFELL IN THE AFTER CABIN.


"Man overboard!"

Bill, making his way along the deck to the wireless room companionway,
heard the thrilling cry and joined the rush of passengers to the stern
rail from whence the shout had come. Radwig and Schultz stood there with
every expression of alarm on their faces.

The captain came hurrying up.

"What is it? What's the matter?" he demanded.

"Somebody fell overboard," declared Radwig; "we heard a splash and
hastened here at once to cut loose a life belt."

"Lower a boat at once," commanded the captain; "slow down the engines."

The petty officer to whom the command had been given, hurried off at top
speed to the bridge while the captain asked more questions of Radwig and
his companion. But they could tell nothing more definite than that they
had heard a splash and a cry and that was all. They had not seen who was
the victim of the accident.

The captain decided to call a roll of passengers and crew at once. While
the boat was lowered, and was rowed to and fro, on the dark waters, this
work went on. When it was over, there was only one person on board found
to be missing. This was, of course, Jack Ready. The cunning of Radwig
had evolved this clever plan to obviate the search that would be surely
made on the ship for the imprisoned young wireless lad when his absence
from duty was discovered. If the lad was believed to be drowned, of
course, no effort would be made to find him on board and he and Schultz
would be safe from the results of their rascality. It was a clever
though simple scheme and it worked to perfection, for after an hour of
investigation the captain was forced to conclude that Jack had, in some
inexplicable manner, fallen overboard and had perished.

But there was one person on board who did not accept this theory, and
that was Bill Raynor. By no figuring could he bring himself to believe
that Jack had fallen into the sea. In the first place, the rail was
almost breast high, and in the second, Jack was too good a sailor to
have lost his head and toppled from the ship.

"I am convinced he'll turn up," he told Mullen in the wireless room.

"Yes, but a thorough search was made for him without result," objected
the other.

"Never mind, something seems to tell me that he is all right," protested
Bill.

"I'm afraid you are deluding yourself," said Mullen, shaking his head.
"When he fell overboard----"

"You mean _if_ he fell overboard," interrupted Bill.

"Why, you surely don't doubt that!" exclaimed Mullen; "a splash is heard
and following that a canvass of the ship shows that Jack Ready is
missing. If he wasn't drowned, where is he?"

"I admit that it sounds like a poser," said Bill. "See here, I'm not
absolutely certain that he did go overboard at all."

"What?" Mullen stared at Raynor as if he thought he had suddenly been
bereft of his senses.

"I mean what I say," repeated Bill slowly. "I'm not sure that he did go
overboard."

"In that case he must be on board the ship."

"Exactly."

"But why should he be hiding?"

"He's not hiding."

"Then why doesn't he show up?"

"Because he's been hidden," replied Bill.

"Oh, that's too fantastic an idea," cried Mullen.

"I know it sounds wild--almost crazy, in fact, but I simply cannot help
feeling it."

"I wish I could think the same way," said Mullen, and the tone of his
voice left no room to doubt that he meant what he said.

In the meantime, how was it with Jack? Confined in the stuffy cabin,
lighted only by the smoky lamp, his head ached intolerably from the
cruel blow that had been dealt him. In fact, it was not till the
following morning that he felt himself again.

Neither of the men who had made him a prisoner came near the cabin in
which he was confined, and although he tried shouting for aid till his
throat was sore, nobody appeared to hear him. The boy began to be
seriously alarmed over his predicament.

Radwig had told him in so many words, that neither he nor Schultz
intended to return to the cabin. The water and bread left him would not
suffice for more than a few hours. By the time the cabin was entered by
some employee of the ship, it was entirely probable that the aid would
come too late. Luckily for him, his mental anguish was not increased by
knowledge of the story of his death by drowning that had circulated
through the ship. Had he known of this, it is likely that, plucky as the
lad was, he would have given way entirely to despair.

The cabin was an inside one, so that there was no porthole through which
he could project his head and call for aid. Examination of the small
chamber, even to the length of pulling up the carpet, showed that there
was no means of escape short of forcing open the door and that Jack,
strong as he was, was unable to accomplish, although he wore out his
muscles trying it.

The hours passed by with dragging feet until it seemed to the boy that
he must have been in the bolted cabin for years instead of hours. The
lamp guttered and went out, leaving him plunged in pitchy darkness. It
was the last straw. Jack flung himself on the bunk and buried his head
in his hands. How long he lay thus he did not know, but he was aroused
and his heart set suddenly in a wild flutter by the sound of approaching
footsteps and voices.

He shouted aloud:

"Help, for heaven's sake, help!"

Then he sat silent, hardly daring to believe that there was a
possibility of his rescue. More probably the voices and footsteps were
those of Radwig and his rascally accomplice.

In an agony of apprehension, Jack sat in the darkness waiting for the
answer to his cry for aid.




                             CHAPTER XVIII.

                       A RASCAL BROUGHT TO BOOK.


We must now go back to an occurrence that happened earlier in the
evening. The ship had finally received orders to dock at Southampton and
was proceeding at a fast clip up the Channel when the telephone in the
wireless room rang and a voice inquired for Bill Raynor. Summoned to the
wire by Mullen, Bill, who had just entered the station after a miserable
day of anxiety for Jack, replied and found that he had been called by
the ship's surgeon, Dr. Moore.

"There has been an accident," said the doctor; "one of the men has been
badly injured. He says he wants to see you without delay."

"But I know none of the crew," said Bill.

"This man evidently knows you, however," returned the doctor, "and I
wish you would come as soon as possible. He appears to be worrying over
something and says he cannot rest till he has seen you."

Greatly mystified, Bill obeyed the summons. On entering the doctor's
cabin he saw, stretched on the lower bunk, and swathed in bandages, the
figure of a man who turned a pair of sunken eyes on him.

"One of the stewards," whispered the doctor. "Poor fellow. Badly scalded
in the galley."

He turned to the sufferer.

"This is Mr. Raynor, whom you wanted to see," he said.

"Let him come here," said the man feebly.

Bill approached the man's side.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I want to ease my conscience of a great burden. Bend low so that you
can hear me. It hurts when I talk loud."

Bill bent over the pitiable, bandaged form.

"What do you want to tell me?" he said.

"That your friend, Mr. Ready, is a prisoner on this steamer," was the
reply that brought an exclamation of amazement from Bill.

He was half-inclined to believe the man was delirious for an instant,
but a moment later revised this opinion.

"How do you know this?" he asked, when he had recovered from his
astonishment.

"I helped the plotters who put him there," moaned the man. "They were
Germans, like myself, and they told me that if he was not shut up he
would betray them to the English authorities as soon as the ship docked.
They gave me money and I let them have the key to a cabin far in the
stern of the vessel. They forged a note to him and trapped him when, in
answer to it, I led him to where they were waiting."

"And he is there now?" cried Bill.

The man nodded slowly.

"So far as I know. They had screwed bolts on the door."

"He was not hurt?" demanded Bill.

"Not seriously; but they struck him on the head."

"The brutes," cried Bill.

"You know who they were, then?"

"I can guess--a man named Radwig and another named Schultz."

The bandaged man nodded again.

"You have named them correctly."

"Doctor!" exclaimed Bill, "you have heard what this man has said. Can
you leave him long enough to go with me to Captain Jameson?"

"Gladly, my boy. But of all extraordinary tales----"

"It is true, upon my word of honor," groaned the injured man. "The
number of the cabin is 14. The chief steward has the keys. I stole them
from his desk to open the stateroom and placed them back again without
his knowledge."

"And just to think," muttered Bill, as he and the doctor hastened from
the injured man's side, "that if it had not been for that accident we'd
never have known a thing about poor old Jack's plight till too late.
After all, that feeling I had was correct."

Captain Jameson summoned the chief steward as soon as he had heard
Bill's story and together the commander, and the others, hastened
through the maze of corridors leading to stateroom 14. Theirs were the
voices the boy had heard, and in ten minutes' time he was wringing
Bill's hand and telling, to an indignant group, the story of Radwig's
outrage.

The captain's indignation knew no bounds.

"I'll have those rascals in irons before we drop anchor!" he exclaimed.
"We are nearing Southampton now and if that man had not met with his
accident they might have landed and escaped scot free."

Jack was weakened by his trying experience, but he was not too exhausted
not to be able to accompany the officer to Radwig's cabin. A knock on
the door brought an immediate answer:

"Come in."

"Keep back," whispered the captain to Jack, "I want to see how far these
rascals will incriminate themselves."

Accordingly, Jack and the others kept out of sight as the door was
opened and Captain Jameson stepped inside, but as the portal was left
ajar, they could hear what went on within.

"You know my friend, Mr. Ewing," said Radwig, in oily tones, indicating
Schultz, who, it will be recalled, had adopted that alias, and who was
seated in Radwig's cabin engaged over a valise full of papers.

The captain bowed his acknowledgment of the introduction.

"And to what am I to attribute the honor of this visit?" said Radwig.
"Possibly something connected with the formalities of landing? I am
informed we shall be in harbor in a short time now."

"That is correct," said the captain bruskly, "and we shall land minus
one of the ship's company."

"You mean poor young Ready, the wireless operator," said Radwig. "It was
too bad about that unfortunate lad. If my friend and myself had been a
few seconds earlier we might have saved him before he went overboard."

"Well, of all the precious hypocrites," gasped Bill under his breath.

"He takes the grand trophy," breathed Jack, who had been told of the
cleverly arranged story of his death that had been circulated.

"There is not a question but that he is drowned, I'm afraid," came from
Schultz the next minute. Then was heard the captain's voice.

"Why, yes, gentlemen, there is," he said; "in fact, there is every
question for _here he is_!"

As if he had been an actor answering his "cue," Jack stepped into the
lighted doorway. At the sight of him, the two miscreants shrank back as
if they had seen a ghost.

"Oh, I'm real enough, Messrs. Radwig and Schultz," smiled Jack, as the
others crowded in behind him.

"And it will be my duty to hand you both over to the British
authorities," snapped the captain to the speechless pair.

Radwig made a sudden dart for the valise full of documents. His move was
so unexpected that before they could stop him he had hurled it out
through the open porthole. Then, with a snarl of rage, he flung himself
at Jack. But the captain's erect figure interposed.

"Stand where you are," he ordered, and Radwig found himself looking into
the muzzle of a revolver.

"Hold out your hands," he ordered and cringing, the two miscreants
obeyed.

"Jones," he added, addressing the chief steward, "oblige me by slipping
those handcuffs on the men."

The click of the steel bracelets appeared to arouse Radwig to speech.

"You--you--young whelp," he shouted, shaking his manacled fists at Jack.
"Whatever may be my fate, I'll remember you and see that you are
attended to if it takes every penny and every resource I have."

"Violence won't do you any good," commented the captain quietly, "and if
I know anything of the English law you are apt to spend quite some time
in Great Britain. Jones, march the prisoners to the smoking room and
detain them there till the ship docks."

Sullenly, the two prisoners shuffled out of the cabin and were marched
past wondering passengers to their place of detention. Three hours
later, when the ship docked, the boys saw them being taken ashore by
British officials. A thorough ransacking of their cabin had failed to
reveal any incriminating documents, although the valise which Radwig had
hurled out of the porthole undoubtedly had contained such papers.

At Southampton they learned that the _St. Mark_ was likely to be tied up
for some time. Rumors of mines and torpedoes made the owners unwilling
to risk her loss. The two lads, therefore, left the vessel, and
proceeded to London, where their instructions were to visit agents of
the line and learn if anything had been heard of Tom Jukes. They found
the city thronged with marching soldiers and territorials, while
everywhere proclamations calling on the men of England to enlist were
posted. Otherwise, however, everything appeared to be going on as if
there were no war.

Inquiry at the agents resulted in a meagre clue to the whereabouts of
the lad of whom they were in search. He had wired for funds from
Malines, a Belgian town, a few days before war was declared and the
Germans invaded Belgium. Since then nothing had been heard of him.

The magnitude of their task appeared greater than ever to the two lads
now that they had actually started the work. But Jack was not the sort
of lad to give up at the first difficulty.

"We'll go to Belgium," he announced, but right here a stumbling block
appeared.

There were no longer regular steamers running to Belgian ports, and the
small and infrequent craft that did venture had been warned by the
Admiralty that the North Sea was thickly sown with mines. It was a
journey full of peril but, nothing daunted, Jack and Bill journeyed to
Grimsby, a town on the east coast, where they were told they might be
able to engage passage on a trawler, provided they could find a captain
adventurous enough to take them across.

All this took up valuable time, for in the confusion and turmoil of war
time, business was harder to transact than in normal times. Two days
were consumed in London, but on the evening of the second they started
for Grimsby. As they took their seats in the train, a newsboy came along
shouting "War Extras." They bought some of his papers and settled back
to read them.

"Well, here's an encouraging item," said Bill ironically, as the train
moved out. He pointed to a despatch headed:

"Trawler destroyed by mines in the North Sea."

"We'll have to take our chances," decided Jack, "but, hullo--what's
this?" he exclaimed suddenly; "listen here, Bill."

He read excitedly from his paper:

"The two prisoners arrested as German military agents on the arrival of
the American liner _St. Mark_ at Southampton two days ago have, in some
mysterious manner, escaped. Four of their guards are under arrest. It is
hinted that bribery was used to effect the Germans' liberty."




                              CHAPTER XIX.

                           THE "BARLEY RIG."


It was with Captain Hoeseason of the trawler _Barley Rig_ that the boys
finally succeeded in striking a bargain to land them in Antwerp. The
captain of the craft, who was also her owner, was a giant of a man, more
than six feet tall in his great sea boots and dressed in rough
fisherman's garb. The boys found him in a small, waterfront inn, with a
thatched roof and red window curtains which bore the sign of the Magpie
and Shark, apparently, in the owner's estimation, a happy combination of
land and sea.

Captain Hoeseason declared that he knew the North Sea like a book and
that there would be no danger of encountering mines if they sailed with
him. His craft would be ready at the long fish dock at six the next
morning, he declared, and at that hour the boys presented themselves.

The crew of the _Barley Rig_ were a rough, weather-beaten looking set of
men, and almost immediately, upon the boy's arrival, they set to work,
under the hoarsely bawled orders of Captain Hoeseason, setting the
fisher craft's great red sails. At last all was ready. Under a brisk
breeze, that momentarily grew stronger, the trawler slipped out to sea.

"They're a rough-looking lot on this craft," observed Jack to Bill, as
the _Barley Rig_ began to toss about in a way that would have been
trying to less experienced sailors.

"Yes, I'm glad you've got that money in your money-belt," said Bill,
referring to the American gold they carried. "They have none of them
seen it, thank goodness, or we might have cause to worry."

"Oh, I don't know," declared Jack. "They may be honest enough for all
their rough looks. I imagine that the North Sea fishery doesn't tend to
make men very refined looking."

"At all events it hasn't had that effect on this crew," laughed Bill.

At noon they were summoned, by the cook's beating on a tin pan, to a
dinner of fried fish and boiled potatoes. The little cabin where they
ate it reeked of the fish that for years had formed the _Barley Rig's_
cargo, and was lighted, for it had no openings but the companionway
above, by a swinging, smoking lamp of what was known among the fishermen
as the "pot" variety. But it would have taken more than this to dull the
keen edges of the boys' appetites, whet to razor sharpness by the
freshening wind.

The cook, an old, bent man, with a wild blue eye, stood by his rusty
stove watching as they devoured what was set before them. Overhead they
could hear the trample of feet and the occasional impact of a big wave
as it broke in spray over the bow.

"It's getting rougher," remarked Jack.

"Seems to be," agreed Bill; "this is a small boat to be out in a storm."

"They say that the trawlers are fine sea boats," declared Jack.

There was no doubt that it was getting rougher. By mid-afternoon the
green seas with breaking, white tops, were leaping mountainously under a
scudding gray sky. Still, the captain of the _Barley Rig_ did not take
in a reef of his sails. He stood beside the tiller, which was gripped by
a young giant of a fisher in jersey and boots, giving an occasional
order and puffing vigorously at his stubby clay pipe.

Beside an occasional gruff word, Captain Hoeseason did not have much to
say to his passengers, but they noticed that his eyes followed them
constantly.

"I can't shake off an idea that the fellow has some mischief in mind,"
declared Bill, after he had noticed the furtive scrutiny the skipper of
the _Barley Rig_ was bestowing on them.

"Nonsense," declared Jack. "I made a few inquiries about him and he
appears to bear a good character. Anyhow, we are going among dangers
beside which this trip won't appear as anything, so don't get nervous at
the start off."

As dusk began to settle down, it showed a wild scene. The trawler
appeared to be alone on the troubled ocean; at least, no other craft was
within sight. The wind howled dismally through the cordage, and the
reefed sails tore at their ropes as if they would part at any moment.

"Bad weather, Captain," said Jack, as he and Bill stood bracing
themselves against a back stay.

"Oh, aye," rejoined the captain, taking out his pipe like a stopper to
permit himself speech, "but she'll be worse afore she gits better."

He was right. By nightfall, it was blowing a gale, and the big seas were
breaking over the _Barley Rig_, drenching everything. Water fell in
cataracts down the cabin companionway every time the hatch was opened.
Cooking was impossible, and the boys made their supper on hard ship
biscuit and water while a small flood washed about their feet.

"This is awful, Jack," remarked Bill after a lurch that had sent him
sliding across the cabin.

"Cheer up, old fellow, it might be worse," retorted Jack cheerily.

Bill gave a groan.

"I don't see how it could be, unless we go to the bottom," Bill grumbled
dismally. "You don't think there's any danger of that, Jack, do you?"

"Not a bit of it. This craft has weathered many a storm as bad or worse
than this, I don't doubt," declared Jack stoutly, although the laboring
of the storm-stricken _Barley Rig_ was beginning to get on his nerves.

Not long after the completion of their scanty meal, the captain came
below and snatched a bite. He was dripping from head to foot and
reported the gale as increasing in violence.

"My advice to you younkers is to turn in," he said. "You can have my
bunk--that one yonder. I'll be on deck all night and so will 'tother
lads."

The bunk in question was not much more than a shelf with some very
dubious-looking blankets piled untidily on it. But the boys were tired,
and so they clambered up and composed themselves to rest with the deck
within a foot of their faces, so low was the cabin ceiling.

For a time sleep was impossible. The buffeting blows that the big waves
struck the laboring trawler made her shake and creak as if she would go
to pieces at any moment. On deck the heavy trampling of sea boots kept
up without intermission. The smoky lamp swung drearily. The motion grew
so violent at times that they were almost pitched out of the bunk. In
some corner into which he had dragged himself, they could hear the old
cook snoring and mumbling in his sleep.

But at last, despite all this, tired nature asserted herself and they
dozed off, while outside, the storm howled and shrieked like a furious
and sentient creature aroused to frenzy and extermination.




                              CHAPTER XX.

                            THE HIDDEN MINE.


About midnight, Jack awakened with a start and a vague feeling that all
was not well. The _Barley Rig_ was still tossing violently and for a few
moments after he opened his eyes, the lad who had slept on the outside
of the bunk felt dazed.

Then he became aware that Captain Hoeseason was standing near to him,
feeling about under the mattress.

"He's trying to rob us," thought Jack. "What shall I do?"

The thought flashed across him that he had no weapon, and that Hoeseason
was probably armed. He was undecided whether to feign sleep or not, for
the captain of the _Barley Rig_ was apparently not yet aware that the
boy was awake, when he was saved the trouble of making a decision.

He was grasped roughly by the shoulder and violently shaken. The giant
captain, with an evil look in his eyes, stood above him, a huge seaman's
knife glimmering in his hand under the light of the guttering lamp.

"Now, younker," he said, in his hoarse tones, with a ferocious look, "I
ain't goin' ter beat about the bush. I've come after that money of
yourn."

"What money?" demanded Jack, deeming it wisest to "spar for time," and
see if he could not devise some way out of the dilemma.

"Now, don't play foxey, Mister Yankee kid," snarled the huge fisherman;
"you know as well as I do. The money in that belt I heard you talking to
your chum about."

"I know nothing about it," declared Jack. "When I paid you I gave you
almost all the money I had. I am looking to get fresh funds in Antwerp."

The man tightened his grip on the boy's shoulder and fairly yanked him
out of the bunk. He placed his knife between his teeth and compelling
Jack to hold his arms above his head he searched him. Jack's heart sank.
He knew the money belt was in the bunk under the pillow. Beyond doubt
this desperate ruffian would search the sleeping place before very long
and discover its hiding place.

"So it ain't on you," snarled Hoeseason, when he had finished his
search, "but I'll bet a guinea it ain't far away. Stand where you are
and don't move as you value your life while I overhaul the bunk."

A moment later an exclamation of savage delight burst from his bearded
lips.

"Ah! Here it is. See, younker, I was bound to find it and---- What
the----?"

As the giant of a man stood half-facing him, Jack gathered himself for a
crouching leap. He sprang straight at the man's legs and, catching him
entirely by surprise, brought him to the floor with a crash that could
be heard above the raging of the storm.

[Illustration: Jack gathered himself for a crouching leap and sprang
straight at the man's legs.--Page 156]

"Bill! Bill!" he shouted.

There was a stir in the bunk above.

"Help me, quick. He'll be too much for me alone."

"What in the world, Jack Ready----?"

"Don't ask questions. Come, quick!"

Bill clambered out of his bunk with alacrity as soon as he saw what was
going forward. Hoeseason, who had been, luckily for Jack, slightly
stunned by the fall, lay still. In his fall the knife had flown from his
hand and lay half-way across the cabin.

"The knife, Bill," panted Jack, "the knife before he comes to. I dare
not take chances with him."

Bill quickly fetched the weapon.

"So he did try to rob us after all," he said. "The precious ruffian, I
didn't like his looks from the start."

"Never mind about that now, Bill, but hustle and get some rope. We must
tie him, for when he comes out of this he'll be a match for the two of
us."

There were plenty of odd bits of rope lying about the cabin on lockers
that ran down one side of it. Bill procured several lengths, and in a
few moments, the semi-conscious giant was bound hand and foot.

In the meantime, Jack fastened the money belt round his waist once more.

"I wish we had pistols," he said, as they stood watching the slow return
of consciousness to the bound captain's face.

"Why, this fellow is harmless now," rejoined Bill.

"Yes, but you have forgotten the rest of the crew, haven't you?"

"Great Scott, I had for a moment. Do you think they are in league with
him?"

"I don't know, but they are bound to find out his plight sooner or later
and we shall have to reckon with them. We're in a tight place, Bill."

Captain Hoeseason began to stir. He rolled his eyes uneasily, and the
next moment discovered that he was tied fast.

"You young imps," he roared in stentorian tones, "cut me loose
instantly, or when I do get free I'll have such a vengeance on you as
will----"

"It won't do you any good to rave like that, captain," declared Jack,
"and, moreover, we----"

The sentence was never finished. The fabric of the _Barley Rig_ seemed
to heave suddenly upwards and then rush apart. There was a burst of
blinding flame, and a report that drove the ear drums in. The next
instant, as it seemed to them, there was an inrush of water on the tide
of which the boys were swept out into the darkness of the raging seas.

The trawler vanished almost as quickly as the terrific flash of flame
from the mine that she had struck, and which had ended her career for
all time.




                              CHAPTER XXI.

                             THE NORTH SEA.


The moments that followed were the most terrible that Jack had ever
known in his adventurous life at sea. Cast adrift in the dark night and
wild sea, he was at first completely bewildered. The very suddenness
with which the end of the _Barley Rig_ had come had benumbed him.

But ere long, the blind instinct of life asserted itself. He struck out,
hoping to find some wreckage with which to sustain himself, for in that
rolling, breaking sea, he could not have hoped to remain afloat long
without some support.

Wave after wave swept over the bravely battling lad, half choking him in
spite of the fact that he was an experienced and powerful swimmer.

"Great Scott!" he thought with dismay. "If I can't find some support to
cling to before long, I'm a goner. This is the worst ever."

In addition to the difficulty of fighting the baffling waves, Jack now
began to experience a fresh obstacle to keeping afloat. The weight of
the heavy money belt at his waist seemed to be drawing him remorselessly
down toward the depths.

At first, he had difficulty in accounting for the leaden feeling that
possessed him after being a short time in the water. But suddenly he
recalled the money belt with its weight of gold.

"I'll stick it out as long as I can," resolved the boy, "and then
unfasten the buckle and let the money sink."

A section of wreckage came within his grasp at that moment. He made a
wild grab for it, but a great wave swept it beyond his reach. He began
to feel numb and chilled and utterly incapable of battling for his life
much longer. An odd, reckless feeling of indifference came over him. His
movements became automatic, no longer consciously directed.

Suddenly he recollected the money belt that dragged at his body like a
leaden weight. He fumbled with the buckle with one hand while he trod
water. But the strap proved obdurate. His chilled fingers could not undo
it.

"It is the end," murmured the exhausted boy. "I'm all in, and can't keep
up the fight any longer."

A strange, dreamy sort of feeling crept over him. He felt the water
closing over his head. Then, suddenly he seemed to be dragged skyward.
His senses swam and he knew nothing more. When he opened his eyes, it
was daylight. He lay in the bottom of a small boat that was being tossed
about like a chip on the rough sea which, although it had moderated to
some extent, was still running high.

"Where on earth am I and what has happened?" he wondered in the first
few seconds of returning consciousness. "I remember that terrible
feeling that all was over, that I was drowning and----"

"Thank goodness you're all right again, old fellow."

"Bill!" cried the young wireless man wildly, as he recognized the voice,
"is that really you or your ghost? Am I dreaming or drowned?"

"Neither, I hope," rejoined Bill, helping his chum to raise himself in
the bottom of the boat, "but you came mighty near being the latter if I
hadn't providentially come within reach of you just in time."

"Thank heaven you did," replied Jack fervently, "but tell me, how did it
all happen? I don't understand. The last I can recollect is going under
and thinking that all was over."

"Which must have been just about the time I grabbed you by the hair and
got you on board somehow," continued Bill. "I don't know how I did it,
but I succeeded."

"But how did you come to be in the boat?" Jack wanted to know.

"Well, you see when we were both swept out of that cabin--I guess the
trawler must have been broken in half by the explosion,--when we were
both swept out, I didn't know what was happening and just struck out
blindly."

"Same here," observed Jack. "I was looking for a bit of wreckage to
float on, but none came my way."

"I don't know, though I guess I answer that description," chuckled Bill,
regarding himself with critical eyes. He was only half dressed, and the
few garments he had on, for it will be recalled that neither of the boys
had had time to dress, had been almost ripped from him. Nor was Jack in
any better plight.

"Anyhow," went on Bill, "the first thing I struck was this boat. It's
the small one that hung astern of the trawler. The explosion, which
struck about midships, I guess, hadn't harmed it and it must have torn
loose from its fastenings when the _Barley Rig_ sank. I clambered into
it and found it was half full of water. I managed, with an old tin
bucket, which luckily, hadn't been washed overboard, to bale it to some
extent, and--and then I heard you yell----"

"I don't remember crying out," interrupted Jack.

"Well, anyhow, you gave a good husky yowl and I glimpsed your head just
alongside. I hauled you aboard and laid you in the bottom of the boat
but I had not the least idea that it was you that I had the good fortune
to rescue till daylight. You can imagine how glad I was."

"But what are we going to do now? Have we oars?"

"No."

"Water?"

"No."

"Nor food?"

Bill shook his head.

"If we're not sighted and picked up we'll be in a bad fix, old fellow."

"I'm afraid so. I guess we're the sole survivors."

"Yes, poor fellows. One can't help feeling sorry even for that rascal
Hoeseason."

The boat, a small, not over tight ship's yawl, swung on the top of a
high wave. The boys eagerly took advantage of this to gaze out over the
crests of the tossing water-mountains.

But the heaving, steel-gray sea was vacant of life. All they could see
was a vast expanse of mighty rollers, desolate and cold under a leaden
sky. They exchanged blank looks.

"Bill, old fellow, we're up against it," came from Jack.

"Well, I've known times when things looked considerably brighter,"
admitted Bill dolefully.




                             CHAPTER XXII.

                           A NIGHT OF ALARMS.


Castaways on the open sea in a boat without water, food or oars!

It was a situation to frighten the bravest. To add to the peril of the
boys' position, they had too appalling evidence of the fact that the
North Sea was strewn with floating mines which, even the impact of a
small craft, like the one in which they were drifting at the mercy of
the winds and waves, would serve to detonate.

Small wonder, then, that after a while conversation grew more and more
desultory until at length they each sat silent, gloomily surveying their
predicament. Fortunately, there was no hot sun to beat down on them and
aggravate the thirst both were already beginning to feel. But even with
cool weather they could not hope to fight off the agonies of thirst for
long. Food, so far, was a secondary consideration.

Then, too, the frail nature of their craft gave them cause for anxiety.
The gale showed as yet no signs of breaking up. From time to time the
ragged tops of great waves were ripped off by the fury of the wind,
deluging the boat in spray. It was necessary to keep bailing constantly
if they hoped to remain afloat.

The constant buffeting to which they were subjected was dizzying and
nauseating. Both lads ached in every limb. In a way they were glad to
have the exercise afforded by bailing, for it went a long way to keeping
their minds employed and their limbs from stiffening in the cramped, wet
boat.

Yet their nerves showed no outward sign of a breakdown. From time to
time they exchanged sentences intended to be cheerful; but it was a
ghastly sort of merriment of which they soon tired. Thus the hours wore
away and darkness set in with a slight dimunition of the violence of the
wind and signs, by the clearing of the sky, that the break of the gale
was at hand.

But they dared not sleep through the hours of darkness, except in hasty
snatches. Had the bailing pail been left alone for even an hour, the
boat inevitably would have been swamped. By midnight, though, the sea
was much smoother. Their dizzied heads, racked by the incessant tossing,
became clearer. They looked about them. Suddenly Jack gave a shout.

"Look! Look yonder!"

A short distance off, and apparently bearing down on them, were the red
and green sidelights and the bright white mast-head signal of a steamer!

Bill broke into a shout.

"Hurray, Jack, we're saved!"

"Not so fast, Bill. They may not see us in the dark."

"That's so. I'd give a million dollars, if I had it, for a box of
matches and some good dry stuff to burn for a signal."

"Not having those things, there's no use worrying about them," returned
Jack quietly, "but say, Bill, see here."

His voice was anxious. He gazed nervously at the approaching lights.

"That steamer's coming right down on us. We can see both her
sidelights."

"Well, so much the better. She's bound to see us."

"Haven't you thought of another possibility?"

"What do you mean?"

"Of a great danger?"

"I don't understand you."

"She's headed straight for us and we can't get out of the way. If she
doesn't change her course, it will be a miracle if she doesn't run us
down."

"I hadn't thought of that," said Bill in sobered tones. "What can we
do?"

"Nothing but to sit tight and trust to luck."

Both lads now sat with anxious eyes fixed on the approaching lights.
Nearer and nearer they came, traveling fast.

"Shout, Bill, shout with all your might," enjoined Jack.

They began yelling at the top of their lungs. But those inexorable
lights, like the eyes of some savage monster, still bore down menacingly
on them. Already, in anticipation, they felt the impact of the sharp
bow, the crash of smashed timbers and the suction of the propellers
drawing them down to death.

"They don't hear us," said Jack. "If the lookout doesn't sight us, we're
lost."

The steamer was very close now. By straining their eyes they thought
they could make out the dark outlines of her hull and spars against the
clearing sky. Bill hid his face in his hands. He could not bear to look
at the Juggernaut of the seas advancing to crush them. Jack, with more
fortitude, sat erect with a thousand thoughts whirring through his
brain.

The mighty bow loomed above the tiny chip of a boat, throwing off a
great wave. The comber caught the light craft and flung it aside. What
seemed like a black cliff, with here and there a gleaming light piercing
its face, raced past them, and the boat, with two white-faced, shaken
boys in it, was left in the wake of the fast-moving steamer, safe, but
being madly tossed about by the wash of her propellers. The danger had
passed, almost by a hand's breadth, but it was some time before they
were sufficiently masters of themselves to discuss their escape.




                             CHAPTER XXIII.

                         MEETING AN OLD FRIEND.


Morning broke on a comparatively smooth sea, and two utterly exhausted,
sunken-cheeked lads, weak from exposure and lack of nourishment.

"This thing has got to end one way or another before long," declared
Bill, his voice coming in a sort of croak from his parched throat.

"Yes, I'm afraid we can't stick it out much longer, Bill," assented Jack
languidly.

"I'm beginning to see things," muttered Bill; "black objects dancing
about in the sun. Over there on the horizon, for instance, I can see a
dark cloud that looks like a tower. I know it isn't there, of course,
but----"

"But, Bill, by hookey, it is!" cried Jack.

"What, are you going crazy, too?"

"That's not a tower, but a steamer's smoke, Bill," declared Jack, after
prolonged scrutiny. In a few minutes Bill became convinced that his chum
was right.

"But will she pass near enough to see us?"

It was a question upon which much, indeed, their very existence, might
depend.

On came the cloud of smoke, and now they could see the funnel and then
the hull, of the steamer that was making it.

"Bill, I--I believe she'll pass near us."

Jack's voice trembled and his eyes shone as if he were a victim of
fever. Bill did not answer, but he clutched the gunwale with hands that
shook, and fixed his gaze on the oncoming vessel. Neither boy dared to
speak, but both of them felt that if the steamer did not sight them, it
would be more than they could bear.

They stood up in the boat when they thought the craft was near enough to
see and waved frantically, at the risk of upsetting the cranky little
affair.

"Bill, she's changing her course," came from Jack's parched and fevered
lips.

"I believe she is. Yes, see there!"

Three white puffs of steam burst from the ship's whistle. Then came the
booming sound of her siren thrice repeated. The sweetest music produced
by the finest musicians of both hemispheres could not have sounded as
good to the boys at that moment as did the harsh roar of the steam
whistle that showed them they had been sighted and that rescue was at
hand. From the steamer's stern flag-staff fluttered the Dutch ensign,
proclaiming that she was a ship of a neutral power.

This was an additional cause of congratulation to the boys, for had they
been picked up by a craft flying a belligerent flag, they might have
become involved in fresh difficulties. In half an hour the steamer, a
small freighter, was lying to not far off the drifting yawl, and a boat
had been lowered and was rapidly pulled toward the castaways. In a short
time they were on board, and after being refreshed and provided with
clothes, were able to tell their stories to Captain Van der Hagueen, the
stout, red-faced little captain to whom they owed their safety.

The _Zuyder Zee_, the name of the little steamer, was bound, to the
boys' great joy, for Antwerp. She carried salt fish and herrings from
Scotland and scented her entire vicinity with the aroma of her cargo.
But the boys, as Bill expressed it, would have thought "a limburger
cheese ship a paradise" after all they had gone through.

The next morning they steamed up the River Scheldt and came once more in
sight of the towers and spires of the historic city which, it will be
recalled, they had visited some time before on Jack's first voyage.
Captain Van der Hagueen told them that after discharging his cargo he
meant to lay up his ship, in which he was part owner, at Antwerp till
the war was over. The risk of floating mines in the North Sea was too
great to encounter, he declared.

It was in the earlier days of the war and Antwerp, a city strongly
fortified, had not been threatened, although every preparation was being
made to receive the enemy if they did come. Barricades were being thrown
up in the streets and the suburbs, and the thoroughfares were full of
the queerly uniformed Belgian soldiers the boys had been so much amused
at on their previous visit. Their amusement at Belgian soldiers had
given way, by now, however, to admiration and respect for the sturdy
little country of fighters that had managed to give a good account of
itself against the most formidable army ever assembled.

The boys decided to seek out their good friend M. La Farge, the Minister
of Government Railroads, who, it will be recalled, they had served on
their first visit, and whose appreciation in the form of two handsomely
engraved and inscribed gold watches were at that moment in Jack's money
belt, where he had luckily placed them for fear of robbery before they
embarked on the _Barley Rig_. It was fortunate that he had done so,
otherwise it is doubtful if they would have obtained access to his
offices, where they found him overwhelmed with work. The sight of the
watches, however, proved an "open sesame" to the Minister's presence,
and the boys--who had in the meantime provided themselves with new
outfits,--presently found themselves warmly shaking hands with their old
friend who was unfeignedly glad to see them.




                             CHAPTER XXIV.

                            THE SKY SLAYER.


After the first greetings were over, Jack plunged into an explanation of
their presence in Belgium in such stormy times. M. La Farge looked
grave, but promised to do what he could through diplomatic and other
sources to locate Tom Jukes.

"If, as you say, he has been traveling in state in a large auto, he
ought to be easy to locate," he assured them. "I will let you know what
I have been able to discover to-morrow morning. Every auto entering the
country is registered and its occupants kept track of. Rest assured I
shall do my best for the two young friends to whom I can never be
sufficiently grateful."

Jack thanked him warmly for them both, and explained that while in
London they had communicated with the American consuls in Paris and
Berlin, but that nothing had been heard at either place of Tom Jukes
being among the refugees beseiging the American representatives.

"Possibly I shall have better success. At least, we must hope so," said
M. La Farge. "Much of the telegraph system is still intact, fortunately.
At least rest on my promise that I will do all I can."

As they had already visited the American consulate in Antwerp, where
they had obtained no news, the two boys found themselves without
anything to do but kill time as best they could till the next day. As
they had spent much of their time on the Dutch steamer in sleep, they
did not feel like turning in early and so, at Jack's suggestion, they
visited a theatre. But it was a gloomy manner of spending the evening,
as it transpired. The inhabitants of Antwerp were more interested in the
bulletin boards announcing the inroads of the German troops than in
entertainments. There was an air of anxiety and depression abroad that
could not help but be contagious, and oppressed by the general
atmosphere, the boys decided before the end of the performance to return
to their hotel.

But Jack could not sleep. He lay awake tossing and turning for an hour
or more. In the street he could hear the regular step and quick
challenge of sentries. Occasionally, far off, came the sound of bugle
calls.

All at once he became aware of another sound. It was one that was
strange to him. He could liken it to nothing but the droning buzz of a
giant bumblebee. It was at first faint; hardly audible in fact, except
to strained ears, but it rapidly grew in volume, filling the whole air
with the steady vibrating buzz.

The sound irritated Jack, sleepless as he was.

"It sounds for all the world as if there was a big buzz saw or a
threshing machine at work," he mused. "Where on earth does the racket
come from?"

He lay awake listening for a few moments longer. Then he got out of bed
and tiptoed across the room where Bill lay snoring violently.

The lad looked out of the window. The street and a public square lay far
below him. Only a few lights shone on the thoroughfare. It appeared
deserted but for the sentries marching up and down unceasingly.

"Nothing there," said the boy to himself. "I guess I'll turn in again."

The buzzing sound had grown fainter now. It was hardly audible in fact.
But for some reason it lingered in Jack's mind. It was like half a dozen
things he could think of and yet he could not recall ever having heard
that precise sound before.

At last he dozed off, and then sank into a dream in which it seemed to
him that he was somewhere far out in the country lying under a shady
tree contentedly chewing on a bit of grass and gazing up through the
leafy branches at the bright sky. But suddenly everything clouded over.
The landscape grew dark and sinister, and the leaves of the tree above
him began to toss and sway in a harsh wind.

In his dream, Jack arose and standing up looked about him. It appeared
to him as if he was gazing down from a height over an immense
battlefield. He could see the dust and smoke as cannon were wheeled into
position and then the flashes of flame and the belching of fire from the
rifle pits. Men were mowed down like ripe grain in long windrows.

It was horrible but fascinating.

Then, all at once, came again that strange buzzing sound. But now it
seemed to have in it a menacing note. It was like a terrible voice. The
boy shuddered as he heard it, harsh and inexorable, filling the air,
which seemed to vibrate to the steady humming.

It grew sharper and louder. Above all, the noise of the dream cannon and
rifles, the boy could hear it. He awakened with a start, his heart
beating rather wildly.

"That was a kind of a nightmare," he said to himself. "Glad I woke up. I
guess--what's that?"

Again that humming sound filled the air as if a pulsing chord, strung at
high tension, had been twanged.

"It's outside!" exclaimed Jack, for the second time going to the window.

"It's in the air!" he cried an instant later.

He turned his face upward. High above the city, against the stars, he
could trace the outline of a gigantic cigar-shaped body. It was moving
slowly far above him.

"An airship!" gasped the boy, and then the next instant:

"A Zeppelin!"

Something seemed to launch itself from the dark body of the immense
aircraft and streak downward like a falling star. The next moment, from
a part of the city some distance off, there was a brilliant flash of
flame, and then an appalling report that shook the earth. But Jack had
no eyes for this at the moment. His gaze was fixed on the Zeppelin.

Having dealt destruction in one part of the city it was now making
directly toward the hotel!

The boy watched it with a horrible fascination that held him speechless.

The death-dealing craft was destined to pass directly above the building
that sheltered them and how many others. Craning his neck, Jack watched
its flight above the sleeping city. Dark as death itself and, with no
indication of its presence but the drone of its engines, the sky monster
moved majestically toward him. It was then that Jack suddenly found his
tongue as the death in the air approached till it was almost above his
staring eyes.

"Bill," he yelled, "Bill, wake up!"

He shook his chum's shoulder violently.

"Whazzermarrer?" inquired Bill sleepily.

"Get up for your life. Fling on any old clothes. Let's get out of here
quick."

"What's up?" demanded Bill, wide awake now, and hastily pulling on some
clothes, for he knew Jack would not have aroused him needlessly.

"It's a Zeppelin, a giant German airship. She's blown up a piece some
blocks away and now she's headed over here."

At almost the same instant, a roar of artillery burst forth. The
defenses of Antwerp had awakened and were concentrating their fire on
the death-dealing monster of the sky. But as the first reports ripped
the silence of the night, there came another and a mightier report. The
hotel rocked to its foundations. A shower of plaster and debris crashed
into the boys' room, half burying them.

The sky slayer had struck again!




                              CHAPTER XXV.

                        IN THE GLARE OF FLAMES.


For a fragment of time,--while a man might have counted ten,--there was
absolute silence following the shattering report of the bomb. Then came
a babel of cries, shouts and women's screams. Hastily throwing on
whatever clothes came first, the two boys rushed out of the wrecked
room.

But they did not do this without difficulty, for a mass of fallen
plaster and debris blocked the door. In the corridor, an electric light
still burned, and the force of the explosion appeared to have spent
itself at the end of the passage where the boys' room was situated.

"Wha--what happened?" stammered Bill, as they gained the corridor.

"It was a bomb, a bomb dropped from a Zeppelin," answered Jack, equally
moved. "What a fiendish bit of business."

"I only hope they don't drop any more," Bill cried, as they hurried to
where the stairway should have been.

But it was not there.

A great section of it had been blown to kindling by the force of the
explosion. It was at that moment that Jack became aware of an acrid,
sharp smell very different from the reek of the lyddite with which the
shell had been loaded. It was a few minutes before he realized what it
was,--fire!

He looked behind them. A red glare lighted up the corridor, and even as
he gazed, a sheet of flame burst from a doorway further down the
passage. Below them, there was bustle and shouting in plenty, but
apparently they were the only guests quartered in that part of the
hotel.

Jack looked grave. The position they occupied was a very dangerous one.
The gap in the stairway was wide and they were trapped with that chasm
in front and the flames behind them.

"What are we going to do?" gasped Bill, turning pale.

"I don't know; we are in a bad fix, Bill," confessed Jack.
"Perhaps,--hello!" he broke off, as the tiny figure of a pretty little
girl emerged from a room which adjoined the one they had just vacated.

The tot held in her arms a doll and her eyes were wide with dismay.

"Oh, man, what has happened?" she gasped.

"Something very terrible, little girl," answered Jack, "but are you
alone?"

"Oh, no, my mamma's in the room. She's sick, I think."

"Great Scott," groaned Jack, "this is serious. It was bad enough before,
but now----" He looked at Bill desperately.

"We've got to get that woman out of there," said Bill.

"Yes, but how?" cried Jack desperately. "There's no way of bridging that
gap."

"I've got a plan that might work," said Bill.

"Are you going to save us?" asked the tot in a trembling voice.

"Yes, dear. Don't be frightened. Stay here while we bring mamma to you."

"Oh, I'm scared," wailed the child, but she obediently sat down on a
chair to await the boys' return.

Inside the room they found a handsome, middle-aged woman lying half
dressed on the floor, in a faint. Apparently, she had risen and begun
dressing hastily when the first shock of the bomb came, but the effort
had been too much for her, and she had collapsed. The boys picked her up
as gently as possible and tried to revive her, but their efforts met
with no success.

Outside, the glare and roar of the flames were increasing. There was no
time to be lost.

"There's only one thing to do," said Bill seriously.

"And that is what? I'm stupid," confessed Jack.

"We must make a rope of bed clothes and lower her and the child down."

"Good. I believe we can get out of this."

They hastily tore the clothes of the two beds in the room and made a
long rope of them. When this had been done, they took a turn of their
"rope" round the marble pillar at the head of the wrecked staircase. But
then came a fresh difficulty. There was no one on the floor below,
though they shouted to attract attention. Obviously someone would have
to be there to catch the woman and untie her when she was lowered.

"You go," said Jack. "I guess I'm strong enough to lower you."

"And leave you here in danger of the flames?" protested Bill, for it was
getting uncomfortably hot now, and the smoke was blinding.

"I'll be all right, if we hurry," said Jack. "Go ahead, Bill, there's
not a minute to be lost."

"I know, but----"

"Never mind any 'buts'--it's a matter of life and death."

So Bill reluctantly looped the "rope" under his arms and then Jack
lowered the young engineer to the next floor. This done, Jack had a hard
task in front of him. He had to fasten the life-line round the woman and
lift her to the edge of the gulf.

This he accomplished by knotting the rope to the marble pillar, tying it
securely at just such a length as would allow its unconscious burden to
be suspended over the gap in the stairway. This was accomplished. She
was lowered, and in a short time the woman was received by Bill, who
released her from the line with all speed. Then came the little girl's
turn. She was terrified at the idea, but at last Jack, with the loss of
much valuable time, succeeded in persuading her to make the attempt.

But the delay had made his position terribly dangerous. The fire was so
intensely hot now that its breath scorched him. The smoke was so dense,
too, that breathing was difficult.

"I'll have a close shave of it," thought Jack, as he glanced behind him
and prepared to lower the little girl.

As before, the feat was successfully accomplished, and then came Jack's
turn. As he slid nimbly down the rope that had done them such good
service, the flames actually singed his garments. He was none too soon
in reaching the lower floor, for he had hardly landed when the fire
reached the pillar to which the line was secured and burned through its
fabric.

"Well, 'a miss is as good as a mile,'" said Jack, "but that's about as
close as I want to come to being roasted alive."




                             CHAPTER XXVI.

                           TWO YOUNG HEROES.


The corridor was deserted, but a few lights burned dimly. No damage
appeared to have been done there, and it was clear that the bomb had
wrought havoc only on the top floor, which was the one occupied by the
boys and those they had rescued.

"I wonder if the elevator is running?" asked Bill.

The lift was at the upper end of the passage and they carried the woman
to it, but there was no response to their rings. Outside they could hear
fire apparatus clanging wildly up and the confused roaring murmur of an
immense crowd.

In the distance, the guns of the forts boomed, filling the air with
their sonorous thunder as they fired at the daring night raider of the
enemy. With this sound was mingled the sharper crackle of light
artillery and specially built "sky guns." But as they learned afterward,
the perpetrator of destruction on the sleeping city escaped scot-free,
to make subsequent attacks.

The elevator apparently not running, they had to face the task of
carrying the unconscious woman down to the lobby and securing medical
aid. Luckily for their tired muscles, Antwerp hotels are not like our
skyscrapers, and it was not long before they reached the ground.

The scene was a wild one. Hysterical women and white-faced, frightened
men, in every stage of dress or undress, were huddled in the centre of
the place while the hotel clerks and servants were doing their best to
pacify them. In the confusion, the boys attracted hardly any attention,
and they laid the woman down on a lounge while they summoned a doctor,
of whom several were already busy attending to women who had swooned or
become hysterical.

The fear of the crowd was that another bomb might follow the first.
Already word had spread that a hospital had been struck and a dwelling
house wrecked, two women and a man being killed outright in their sleep
in the latter.

"What an outrage!" exclaimed Bill, looking about him at the wild scene
while a doctor administered restoratives to the woman they had saved.
"To attack women and children and harmless citizens from the sky."

"I hope they get that old wind bag and blow it to bits," wished Jack,
with not less warmth.

"Well, this is our first taste of war, Jack, and I can't say I like it."

"Nor I. It would do some of those jingoes in our own country, who were
yelling for war with Mexico, a lot of good to see this," returned the
young wireless man.

"Let's go outside and see what's going on," suggested Bill. "I guess our
charge is all right, now she's beginning to recover."

If the scene in the hotel had been wild, like a nightmare more than a
reality, that outside was pandemonium itself. Imagine a crowd of
wild-eyed men and women, few of them wholly dressed, surging behind
lines of policemen and the entire street lighted by the ghastly glare of
flames upon which the engines were playing furious streams.

"If that bomb-thrower sailed over here now he could wipe out half of
Antwerp, I should think," said Jack, as they elbowed their way through
the throng. Oddly enough, although the lads had only been able to throw
on a few garments hastily, they did not, till that moment, recollect
that their new outfits had been destroyed. It was Bill who called
attention to this.

"We ought to make the fortunes of a tailor," he commented. "We'll have
to get a lot of new stuff to-morrow,--or rather to-day, for it's after
three o'clock."

"If this keeps up we'll be reduced to Adam and Eve garments before we
get through," laughed Jack.

Far in the distance, on the outskirts of the city and on the chain of
forts, the white fingers of the searchlights were sweeping the sky
questioningly, looking for the sky-destroyer to deal out death to him in
his turn. The guns boomed and cracked incessantly, sending a rain of
missiles upward.

But flying high, and favored by a misty sky, the Zeppelin escaped
without injury, leaving a panic-stricken city in its wake. There was no
more sleep for any one in Antwerp that night. Vigilance against spies
increased ten-fold, and it was bruited about that the real object of the
aviators had been to blow up the royal palace, and by destroying the
king and queen to terrify the Belgians into submission.

Naturally, sleep was out of the question for the boys. They spent the
rest of the night wandering about the city and visiting the ruins of the
house that had been struck just before the hotel. Its entire front was
torn out by the force of the explosion, and just as they arrived, three
bodies had been found in the ruins.

The sight of the shrouded, still forms brought home to them with still
greater force the horror of it all.

"Tell you what, Bill," said Jack, as they returned to the hotel to
breakfast, and found that the fire had been extinguished and the panic
quieted down, "war is a pretty thing on paper, and uniforms, and bands,
and fluttering flags, and all that to make a fellow feel martial and
war-like, but it's little realities like these that make you feel the
world would be a heap better off without soldiers or sailors whose
places could be taken by a few wise diplomats in black tail coats. It
wouldn't be so pretty but it would be a lot more like horse sense."

"Gracious, you're developing into a regular orator," laughed Bill.

"Well, the sight of these poor dead folks and all this useless wreckage
got under my skin," said Jack, flushing a little, for he was not a boy
much given to "chin music," as Bill called oratorical flights.

During the morning they secured new clothes for the second time since
landing in the city, and then paid their appointed call on M. La Farge.

"I have good news for you, boys," he said as they came into his office.
"Your man was last heard from at Louvain. I suspect he is rather given
to adventure, for I understand that he has been quite active in aiding
our people. It's strange that his people have not heard from him,
though."

"Perhaps they have by this time," said Jack; "but if he has been
actively siding with the Belgians, isn't his neutrality in grave danger,
with all its serious consequences?"

M. La Farge nodded thoughtfully.

"I have heard much of your wealthy young Americans," he said, "and while
their hearts are warm and it is good of this young man to be doing what
he can, my advice to you is to get him to return home as soon as
possible--the Germans shoot first and listen to explanations afterward,
as they say in your country."




                             CHAPTER XXVII.

                       "THE GERMANS ARE COMING!"


It was in the early days of the war when the gallant defenders of Liege
were still undauntedly holding back the Teuton thousands with their
great "caterpillar" siege guns that were destined, ere long, to hammer
down the stubborn defense of Belgium's neutrality. Trains were running
and business, although seriously hampered, was still being carried on,
though the foe was at the gate and the capital had been removed from
Brussels to Antwerp.

Armed with passes signed by M. La Farge, to which their photographs were
attached for purposes of identification, the boys started for Liege the
next day. It was likely to prove an arduous and not unhazardous task
that they had embarked upon. In the first place "spy fever" was at its
height. Anyone not in uniform was liable to be held up and questioned,
and if satisfactory explanations were not forthcoming, they were liable
to very unpleasant consequences.

The word of any frightened peasant choosing to "denounce" anybody had
led to riots and affrays in which men and women, suspected of espionage,
had been rescued by troopers after being half beaten to death.

Above all, the boys were warned not to carry weapons of any kind, an
injunction which they obeyed as they did all the rest of M. La Farge's
admonitions. The train journey proved exasperating. Sometimes it would
be halted for hours on a side track while trains, loaded with
young-looking soldiers in a strange medley of gay Belgian uniforms, went
by, the men cheering and singing. Again, much time was wasted by careful
reconnaissances, for there was fear that bridges might have been
dynamited or the right of way mined by the spies who were rife
throughout the country.

A whole day passed thus, with the train creeping like a snail and
continually stopping and starting. The roads at the side of the track
were alive with peasants flocking to different centres from their lonely
houses in the country. Some had their family possessions piled high in
small carts drawn by dogs. Others carried what they had been able
hastily to collect. It was another sad picture of war and the desolation
it had brought on an inoffensive, industrious little country.

Several aeroplanes soared above the train, reconnoitering the country.
At first the boys were nervous lest there might be a repetition of the
bomb-dropping at Antwerp, but they were assured by the official on the
train, who had examined their passes, that the aircraft were all
friendly French and Belgian aeroplanes, after which they watched them
with less uncomfortable feelings. As Bill put it:

"If we were at war and shouldering rifles for the dear old U. S. A.,
we'd take the chances of war with the rest of them, but being a neutral,
there's no sense in throwing away our bright young lives," a sentiment
to which Jack agreed heartily.

It was dark when the train rolled into Louvain. After innumerable
challenges by armed sentries, they at last reached the hotel of the
place where many of the soldiers were quartered. If Antwerp had seemed
like an armed fortress, signs of military activity were much more marked
in the old cathedral town.

Lights were not allowed after eight o'clock. Citizens were kept off the
streets at night after certain hours. Artillery rumbled through the city
all night, going to the front, the boys were told.

Disquieting rumors of the fall of Liege, and the advance of the Germans,
had already reached the town, and on the outskirts, barbed wire defenses
were erected and trenches dug hastily. Residents were warned, in the
event of the Germans entering the city, to behave themselves strictly as
non-combatants, the magnificent cathedral was fitted up as a hospital in
case of emergencies. The thrill of warfare was in the air.

It was early the next morning that Jack aroused Bill from his sleep.

"Hark, Bill!" he exclaimed, holding up one hand.

From far off came the boom of cannon. The ground seemed to tremble under
the thunder-like reverberations. Down in the street a squadron of
cavalry raced through the town. Then came the rumbling of guns being
rushed to the front.

"It's a big battle," declared Jack; "and what's more the sounds have
been growing louder. It must be a retreat."

Bill looked grave.

"In that case we are likely to be in the thick of it."

"I'm afraid so, and it may be mighty difficult to get away. We'll have
to find Tom Jukes as soon as we can, and then get back to the coast."

An aeroplane buzzed by overhead, its powerful engines whirring, buzzing
thunderously. By daylight the town was almost empty of soldiers; they
had all, except a few detachments, been called to the front during the
night.

The landlord of the hotel was in a great state of perturbation.

"Ah, those terrible Germans!" he exclaimed, "they will wreck our
beautiful town and put us to death. I know them. Oh, what unhappy
times."

"Perhaps they may be beaten back," encouraged Jack.

"Oh, no! No such good fortune," said the landlord, wringing his hands
miserably. Just after dawn, a mud-spattered courier arrived, and
declared Liege had fallen, "the Germans are coming."

Everywhere that was the cry as, after a hasty breakfast in the
disordered hotel, the boys hurried out.




                            CHAPTER XXVIII.

                            FAST TRAVELING.


The sound of firing was now much closer. Frightened faces were peering
from behind shuttered windows. All traffic appeared to have stopped, and
the only life beyond the few persons abroad, whose curiosity was
stronger than their fear of the big German guns, was when an occasional
body of troops would rush through the streets.

The beautiful Hotel de Ville and the fine old cathedral, so soon
destined to be damaged by fire and bullets, attracted the attention of
the boys and gained a hearty expression of admiration from them both.
All at once there was a whirr and the snort of a horn, and an armored
war-automobile, carrying a machine gun, and painted a business-like
gray, dashed around a corner and sped on. Another car came close behind
it.

The second machine carried an American and a Red Cross flag. It was
coming fast and contained two occupants. Both were youths, and one
carried a camera over his shoulder by a broad strap. But the other
attracted Jack's notice, for in him he recognized instantly the lad they
were in search of, Tom Jukes, the millionaire's son.

"Hey, Tom Jukes!" he hailed.

The car slowed up and the young driver turned questioningly in his seat.

"Well, by all that's wonderful, it's Jack Ready and Bill Raynor!" he
exclaimed, as the two lads came up to the car. "What in the world are
you doing here?"

"We've been sent to ask you that same question," responded Jack, who, it
will be recalled, became well acquainted with Tom Jukes when the young
wireless man was in the hospital in New York following his battle with
the desperate tobacco smugglers he was instrumental in sending to
prison.

"What do you mean?" asked Tom with wide-open eyes.

"Why, your father hadn't heard from you and----"

"Hadn't heard from me! Why, I've written several letters," declared Tom.
"I'd have cabled, but they've stopped all that for the present, at
least. I declare, that's too bad. And so the governor sent you on a
searching expedition, eh?"

"Well, it was to be a combination of that and a vacation," laughed Jack,
and he told something of their adventures on board the "Gold Ship."

"My word, you fellows are always having adventures," said Tom, with a
smile on his good-looking face. "The fact is, I guess reading of your
exploits made me stay over here when this row started to see if I
couldn't have some of my own. I'm staying with Belgian friends, about
half a mile from here, and so far I haven't done much but get ready to
help in Red Cross work and so on. But now I guess it's up to me to get
back to the U. S. A."

"If we can," said Jack. "I don't know where the ship we came over on,
the _St. Mark_, has been sent to. London and Paris are overrun with
American refugees. When we were there, hundreds of them were unable to
get passage, or even change their money."

"Oh, the whole world seems to have been shuffled in this thing," frowned
Tom, "but let me introduce my friend, Philander Pottle. He's a
photographer for a New York newspaper."

The boys shook hands with Pottle, a dark young fellow who talked as
explosively as a machine gun.

"Glad to meet you--fine fight--be here soon--great pictures--snap!
bang!--action--that's the stuff!"

"We're going out toward the front, that is, if we can get by," declared
Tom; "want to come along?"

The boys looked rather dubious.

"I don't know what your father----" began Jack doubtfully.

Tom interrupted him impulsively.

"Oh, there's no danger so long as we don't get in any of the scrimmages
ourselves," he declared, "and then the American flag and the Red Cross
emblem will keep us out of trouble."

Both boys were anxious to go, so that it did not take much more
persuasion to make them get in.

"Now then off we go--bang! biff!--big guns!"

Outside the city lay an open country. Far off they could see a great
cloud-like mass of smoke which, no doubt, marked the place where the
fight was taking place.

"We'll make a detour to the north," declared Tom. "There's rising ground
there and we can look down without danger of getting hit."

"Not want to get hit--cannon ball--gee whizz, off goes your head--much
better keep it on," said Pottle, in his firecracker way.

"He talks as fast as a photographic shutter moves," chuckled Bill to
Jack in a low voice and the other could not but agree. As they rode on,
they passed groups of soldiers and artillery. Now and then a lumbering
wagon, bringing back wounded men lying on piles of straw, jolted by,
bearing mute testimony of the havoc going on at the front.

The boys began to feel sick and queer and even Tom sobered down at these
sights. They were stopped several times by small skirmishing bands and
made to show their papers, for a few days before German spies had been
captured in a car flying an American flag. The car sped up a hill and
then started swiftly down on the other side of the acclivity.

At the foot of the hill, a long and steep one, was a wooden bridge. Tom
was driving fast, when suddenly there was a sharp, snapping sound and
the car leaped forward. Tom's foot was on the brake in a jiffy, but
there was no diminution in the speed of the machine. Instead, it
appeared to gain momentum every moment.

"Bother it all," muttered Tom; "brakes bust. I can't slow down till we
get to the bottom of the hill."

"I hope we don't meet anything," cried Jack.

"If we do grand bust--smash--crash--no chance--wow!" exploded the
photographer.

But there was nothing in sight, and beyond the bridge was another up
grade where Tom hoped to gain control of the runaway machine. But within
a few hundred feet of the bridge some soldiers suddenly appeared,
running from the bridge as if they were in haste to leave the vicinity.

As the car came in sight they waved it frantically back. One even
leveled a rifle.

"Can't stop," shouted Tom Jukes, "brakes bust."

They flashed by the men who looked mere blurs at the pace the car was
now going.

Bang! came a shot behind them, but the bullet whistled by, making them
involuntarily crouch low in the madly racing car. Behind them came
shouts and yells. They could catch something about Germans.

"They think we're German spies," gasped Bill, as the car thundered
across the bridge.

Hardly had it flashed across than there came a terrific explosion and
looking back they saw the whole bridge blown skyward. Their lives had
been saved by a miracle.

"Those soldiers must have mined that bridge and set the fuse just before
we appeared," declared Jack, looking rather white and dismayed.

"We weren't a second too soon. If we'd been going slower we'd have been
wiped off the map," added Bill soberly.

"I'm going to keep running at this speed till we're out of this
neighborhood," cried Tom Jukes. "It's not healthy."




                             CHAPTER XXIX.

                              THE UHLANS!


But clearly fate was against their seeing anything of the battle that
morning. They were still going fast, traveling through a wooded country
that alternated with open stretches, where they could catch a glimpse of
the far-off fight, when there came a sudden ominous sound:

Bang!

"There's a shot," cried Bill, looking round with alarm on his face.

"That was no shot," returned Tom with a rueful grin, "it was one of the
tires blowing out."

"Pop--bang--air all out--pump her up--hard work--too bad," exploded
Pottle.

"Fritz, I'll be jiggered if you don't talk like a tire going on the
fritz yourself," laughed Tom, as he succeeded in slowing the car down on
a gentle grade by reversing the engine and then stopping at the bottom.

"Fritz--German name--don't use it in Belgium--think you're a spy--then
you'll be on the fritz," sputtered Pottle.

The car was brought to a standstill opposite a neat white farmhouse
approached by an avenue of slender dark poplars. A big dog bayed as the
car stopped, but there was no other sign of life about the place except
some chickens pecking and scratching in the dooryard. In the background
were yellow stacks, for the harvest had just been gathered. It made a
pretty, contented scene in contrast with the turbulent experiences
through which the boys had passed only recently.

But they did not spend much time comparing the rural peace with the
unrest of the cities in the war area. There was work for them all to do.
First the brake was mended by replacing a broken bolt that had caused
the trouble that almost ended tragically for them. Then came the fitting
of a new "shoe" and tube, at which they all helped by turns.

The work took some time, and at its completion they were all dusty, hot,
and very thirsty.

"I'd give a lot for a good drink of cold water or milk right now,"
puffed Tom, resting from his exertions with the tire pump. "What do you
say if we go up to that farmhouse and see if we can buy something to
drink?"

"Oh, for an ice cream soda," sighed Bill.

"You might as well wish for lemonade in the Sahara desert," scoffed Tom.
"They wouldn't know an ice cream soda here if they met it."

Laughing and chatting, they approached the house, walking up the avenue.
But as they neared it, their cheerfulness appeared to receive a check.
No indication of life but those mentioned appeared about the place. It
was silent and shuttered. The stable seemed to be empty. No farm wagons
stood about.

Repeated knockings at the door failed to produce anyone.

"There's a well yonder," said Tom Jukes. "What do you say if we help
ourselves?"

"We'll have to, I guess," agreed Jack. "Everyone about the place must
have been scared away by the battle."

"Or more probably the men were called to arms and the women have gone to
some place of safety," was Bill's opinion.

A great earthenware vessel stood by the well brink and they refreshed
themselves from this with long draughts of cold, clear water.

"That's better," declared Tom, as he set down the pitcher after a second
application from it. "Now let's be getting on, for we've got to find
another road back."

"Wait a minute--great chance--deserted farm--men at war--women flee in
haste leaving faithful dog!" exclaimed Pottle, unslinging his camera.

"Well, hurry up and get through with your old picture box," conceded
Tom, "and, by the way, you might let that dog loose. Poor creature,
he'll surely starve to death tied up like that."

Although the dog was a ferocious-looking animal, he seemed to know that
the boys meant to give him his liberty, for he allowed them to take off
his chain without any opposition and went to a small stream that flowed
behind the house to slake his thirst.

This had hardly been done, and Pottle had taken a few snaps, when down
the road came a furious galloping and a squadron of Belgian cavalry
appeared, spurring for their lives, while behind came hoarse shouts and
shots.

"Great Scott! We're in for it now!" exclaimed Tom in a dismayed voice;
"a flanking party must have attacked those fellows and driven them
back."

The squadron, a small one, and probably a scouting party, galloped past
the house without even noticing the boys and the auto standing in the
road. It was plain they were hard pressed. They had hardly gone when
another body of horsemen appeared. They wore gray uniforms. Their metal
helmets were covered with canvas with the number of their troop
stencilled on it in large figures. Each man carried a lance with a
gleaming point. Like those they pursued they swept by without paying
attention to anything but the pursuit.

"Uhlans!" exclaimed Tom. "I hope we haven't blundered into the thick of
this thing."

They all stopped to listen. The noise of the pursuit had died out, but
now more hoof beats could be heard approaching rapidly.




                              CHAPTER XXX.

                            "YOU ARE A SPY!"


In another moment a smaller body of men swept up to the farmhouse,
drawing rein at the sight of the stalled car. By their uniforms and the
fluttering ensign held up by a big trooper, the boys guessed them to be
officers. They paused for a moment and then, after a few words, turned
and came galloping up the poplar-lined approach.

The boys exchanged blank looks.

"Keep cool," urged Tom, "there isn't anything they can do to hurt us."

"I don't know, I've heard some queer tales of the Germans," declared
Jack, rather apprehensively, "for one thing they've no great love for
Americans."

"But they wouldn't dare to injure us," declared Bill.

The horsemen, of whom there were six, and they saw that two were
slightly wounded, came galloping up and drew rein. The leader of the
party was a fierce, hawk-nosed old man with an immense drooping
mustache. The others were young officers, rather foppish-looking. Two of
them wore monocles.

But it was the figure of the man who brought up the rear of the party
that excited Jack's attention to the exclusion of the others.

"Radwig!" he gasped to Bill as he recognized the figure of the former
Herr Professor of the German War college, in spite of his wearing a
uniform.

"Wow! There'll be trouble sure now," muttered Bill. "See, he's looking
at us."

"Yes, he recognizes us and he doesn't look over amiable."

Radwig spurred his horse to the side of the hawk-nosed old colonel and
spoke rapidly. The old man bent keen eyes on the party of boys.

"Herr Radwig informs me that two of your party are spies," he said in a
chilling voice; "is that the truth?"

"Of course not," declared Jack, paling a trifle. "We are all Americans."

"Unfortunately, a great many persons, including English spies, are
protecting themselves under that banner nowadays," was the rejoinder.
"I'll trouble you to show your papers."

"Why, Mr. Radwig knows me and my friend here," burst out Jack.

"I know nothing but what I suspect," snarled Radwig, his eyes gleaming
viciously. "Colonel, will you allow me to search these boys?"

The other nodded assent.

"I would rather be searched by somebody else," protested Jack, guessing
what sort of treatment they would get from the man who hated him.

"Herr Radwig will search you," was the rejoinder, and then, in German,
he gave orders to a non-commissioned officer,--a sergeant,--to get a
meal ready within the house. Radwig compelled the indignant boys to turn
out everything in their pockets and Pottle's camera was ordered
destroyed forthwith.

Radwig's search was rapid and thorough. When it was concluded, he turned
to the colonel.

"There is nothing incriminating on any of them, but on this one here,"
he declared.

He pointed at Jack as he spoke.

"And he----?"

"Has two passes on the Belgian railroads in his pocket."

This was true, for Jack had not given up both passes the last time they
had to show them.

"That seems to prove that he has some position of trust with the Belgian
government," declared Radwig, "and as such is properly a prisoner of
war."

Jack looked his dismay; but the colonel gave a sharp order. Two soldiers
laid hold of the boy. He started to shake them off indignantly while his
friends looked on aghast.

"I can explain all this," he cried; "this man Radwig had trouble with
me. He's trying to get even. He----"

"Take him away," came the cold order in unmoved tones. "You are
responsible for him," added the colonel to Jack's two captors. "See that
he is carefully guarded till the court martial."

"The court martial!" cried Jack. "Why, I--I'm an American citizen
and----"

"There is no more to be said," and Jack, with an armed guard pressing a
revolver to either side, was marched off without a chance to say more.
As he went on, he could hear his friends protesting indignantly and
then, they too, were taken in charge by the soldiers and escorted to the
automobile. Then came a sharp order to them to drive back to Louvain on
pain of death. There was nothing for them to do but to obey. The iron
discipline of the German officers allowed no argument. And so, leaving
Jack to his fate, they were compelled to drive off with heavy hearts.

"Don't worry, we'll get the American consul and get him out all right,"
said Tom, as cheerfully as he could.

But Bill, with the thought of a court martial in his mind, sat in a
miserable state all the way back to the town which they reached only
after making a long detour, necessitated by the blown-up bridge.

His chum in the hands of the Germans, and subject to court martial, Bill
had good cause to feel worried and oppressed as to the outcome when he
realized the influence that Radwig, Jack's enemy, appeared to possess.
To what terrible lengths might not his desire for vengeance lead him?




                             CHAPTER XXXI.

                            COURT-MARTIALED.


Poor Jack, with feelings that may be imagined, was roughly thrust into a
smoke house and the door slammed. Outside the sentries paced up and down
ceaselessly, showing him that to think of escaping would be useless.
There he must stay at the mercy of Radwig till his fate was decided.

No wonder, as he sank on a rough stool, he felt for a moment sick and
apprehensive. The glitter in Radwig's eyes when he saw who it was he had
made prisoner had warned Jack to expect severe treatment. The hours
dragged by and no one came near him. It was pitch dark in the smoke
house, which, of course, had no openings and hardly any ventilation.

The clank of the sentries' sabres, and their steady, monotonous tread,
were the only sounds that disturbed the stillness except for an
occasional, far-off rumble of cannonading. Evidently the main tide of
the battle had rolled back from the scene of the morning's engagement.
If it had not been for the presence of the sentries, which showed that
he was not forgotten, Jack would have been inclined to think that his
captors had ridden on and left him.

But the steady tramp-tramp outside precluded all possibility of this. At
last the door was flung open, and the two men guarding him entered the
dark smoke house. Jack saw then that it was late twilight, but a cloudy
sunset, threatening a coming storm, made it appear later.

"Come," ordered one of the impassive, gray-uniformed Germans, who
seemingly possessed a knowledge of a little English.

There was no resource but to obey. Jack, with a beating heart, fell in
between his two guardians.

[Illustration: "You have heard yourself accused of being a spy," began
the Colonel harshly.--Page 229]

"I've got to be cool and keep my head," he told himself as he was
marched toward the house. "Any false step now might be fatal."

Within the farmhouse, kitchen lights had been kindled. Two yellow
flaring lamps showed the group of officers about the table with their
swords laid among the remains of a meal. Wine spilled on the cloth and
empty glasses showed that the farmhouse cellar had been raided for their
entertainment.

At the head of the table sat the hawk-nosed colonel. Next him was
Radwig. One of the officers, a major, was tilted back in his chair
snoring noisily. Jack's heart sank. He saw no signs of a fair trial.

"You have heard yourself accused of being a spy," began the colonel
harshly. "What have you to say to the charge?"

"Simply that it's ridiculous. If you will give me time my friends will
be back here with ample proof that I am an American citizen, a wireless
operator and----"

"Ah, ha!" exclaimed the colonel, placing one finger to the side of his
hawk-like beak and looking cunning. "So that is it. A wireless operator
with Belgian passes in his possession. It looks bad."

Radwig bent over and whispered something in the colonel's ear.

"Herr Radwig tells me that you are a hater of Germans. That you had him
placed in custody in England and that he only escaped to join our army
after surmounting great difficulties. What have you to say to that?"

"As to being a hater of Germans, no American is that," said Jack. "We
are all neutral in this struggle. So far as Herr Radwig being imprisoned
in England, he was already in irons on the ship before she docked."

"Is that true?" demanded the colonel of Radwig, who smiled and waved his
hand with a gesture that signified "absurd."

"You see Herr Radwig denies that you tell the truth," remarked the
colonel.

"Surely my word is as good as his," protested Jack, trying to keep cool,
although he saw that things looked black indeed for him before such a
prejudiced tribunal.

"Herr Radwig is a German we all know and honor," retorted the colonel.
"Who you are we do not know. Therefore, between you, we must believe
him."

"You don't mean that you believe I am a spy?" blurted out Jack.

"The evidence shows it," rejoined the colonel coldly. "You are aware of
the rules of war?"

The whole room suddenly swam before Jack's eyes. A deadly chill passed
through him. For an instant he could not assure himself that it was not
a hideous dream from which he must soon awaken. But the next instant,
the reality, the horrible fact that he was about to be sentenced to
death as a spy, rushed back upon him. He tried to speak but his dry lips
refused to deliver a word.

The colonel and Radwig whispered, and then the former announced in his
harsh grating voice:

"It will be at reveille to-morrow. Remove the prisoner."

"But you don't understand," he choked out, "surely you don't mean to
execute me, an American citizen, without a chance to explain. I----"

"I will assume full responsibility," was the cold reply.

Jack struggled with his captors, but a cruel blow in the small of the
back with the butt of a rifle so dizzied him, that by the time he
recovered his senses, he was back in the dark, foul-smelling smoke house
once more.




                             CHAPTER XXXII.

                            THE LONG NIGHT.


Then followed the blackest hours of Jack's life. Outside the sentries
kept up their eternal pacing. In the distance a dog barked, and there
was still scattered firing. For a long time the unfortunate young
wireless man sat huddled on the floor of his prison in a sort of torpor.

All at once he recollected that one of his guards spoke English. Perhaps
he could get the loan of pen or pencil and paper to write some last
words. But when hammering at the door for some moments brought a
response, his request was gruffly refused. The sentry resumed his
measured pacing.

One--two! One--two! Hour after hour the sound beat into Jack's brain
till he thought his head would burst.

Then came another sound.

The sound of digging! The blows of a mattock!

A cold perspiration broke out on Jack's forehead as he realized the
import of this. They were digging his grave, and by a refinement of
cruelty, within earshot of his prison place. Whether by accident or
design, poor Jack was being forced to hearken to the most grisly of the
preparations for the next morning's reveille.

So the hours crept by leaden-footed. Sleep was out of the question as
much as was possibility of escape. The sound of the digging, which Jack
had stopped his ears to keep out, had ceased.

Then came a sudden stir outside. The sound of hurrying feet and commands
barked in sharp, quick voices. Jack's heart gave a bound.

Could it be a detachment of Belgians summoned by Tom and Bill coming to
wipe out the small force occupying the farm?

He flung himself against the door of the smoke house, listening
intently. There was a tiny crack at one of the posts and through this he
could command a limited view of the moonlit farmyard. Then came an odd
sound. Like the dry whirring of insects in the fall. It grew in volume.
The hurrying and the shouts increased, too. Shots were heard, scattering
one after the other and a yell that sounded like a shout of warning.

Then the world rocked and spurted flame. Screams and groans filled the
air.

Again there came an explosion that shattered the night and sickened the
senses. Jack, half stunned, fell to the floor of the smoke house as part
of its roof was torn off.

Then came silence, broken an instant afterward by groans and moans and
swift, alarmed orders. There was a rat-a-plan of hoofs. The queer
whirring sound died out. Only the moans still continued. Dizzy and sick,
Jack got to his feet.

As yet he could not quite realize what had happened. Suddenly followed
realization.

A night raiding aircraft had spied the shifting lights of the encampment
and, by the moonlight, caught the gleam of stacked arms, and had struck.

The sound of the sentries' ceaseless pacing had stopped. Jack shouted
and pounded on the door of the partially wrecked smoke house, but there
was no answer but the moans and cries that were now getting fainter and
less frequent. The sides of the smoke house were of rough logs and
without much difficulty Jack clambered to the shattered roof.

He raised himself and clambering over, gave a hasty glance about him. It
was a terrible scene of wreckage that he surveyed. In the earth two
immense holes, big enough to bury two horses, had been torn, and close
by lay two men. Over toward the house was a third figure stretched out.
Three horses, one of which died as Jack was looking over the carnage,
lay not far off.

There was nobody else in sight.

Jack clambered over the edge of the gap the shell had torn in the roof
and dropped lightly to the ground.

"Wasser!" moaned one of the wounded men, whom Jack recognized as one of
his guards. The boy sped to the well and hastened back with the big
earthen pitcher from which they had refreshed themselves earlier that
day.

But he was too late. Even as the boy held the cooling draught to the
sentry's lips, the man died. The other was already dead when the boy
dropped to the ground, his body frightfully shattered by the aerial
bomb.

There was still the third man lying by the house and Jack, thinking he
might be able to minister to him, hurried over. But here, too, the bomb
had struck fatally.

A shaft of moonlight fell through the poplars and illumined the man's
face. It was Radwig, struck down in death even as he had planned a cruel
revenge for another. Jack covered the dead professor's face with the
man's huge blue cloak and then stood silent for a moment. The rapidity
with which it had all happened almost stunned him.

Fifteen minutes before he had been a prisoner with the hideous sounds of
spade and mattock in his ears. Now he was, by nothing short of a
miracle, free again. He raised his face to the sky and his lips moved
silently. Then, with a last look about the place, he prepared to leave,
fervently hoping that before another day had passed he would be with his
friends once more in Louvain.

All at once he heard a loud whinny. One of the dead troopers' horses had
been left behind in the mad flight from the farmhouse. It was saddled
and bridled, although the girth had been loosened. Jack untied it,
tightened the girths, and mounted. He did not know much about riding,
but somehow he managed to stick to the animal's back as he directed it
down the road.

Every now and then he drew rein and listened. He had no desire to
encounter prowling bands of Uhlans or to run into the small force that
had evacuated the farmhouse, no doubt believing him to be dead. But dawn
broke while he was still traveling, not at all certain that he was going
in the right direction.

Jack decided to abandon his mount. Taking off its bridle so that it
could find forage along the roadside, he patted its neck and said:

"Thanks for the ride, old fellow."

Then bareheaded, and tired almost to exhaustion by all he had gone
through, yet driven on by dire necessity of reaching the Belgian lines,
the lad struck off across a wheat field into a path of woodland. On the
edge of the field he shrank suddenly back into the tall wheat. There lay
a man's coat, a stone jug and a basket. No doubt the man was close at
hand. But although he crouched there for a long time, nobody came, nor
was there any sound of human life. Birds twittered and once a rabbit
cocked an inquisitive eye at the lad as he lay crouched in the wheat.

Cautiously Jack raised himself and parting the stalks, peered out. He
saw something he had not noticed before. The man, who doubtless owned
the belongings which had alarmed Jack, lay stretched out at the foot of
a tree. He was on his face sleeping.

But was he sleeping?

An ugly, dark stain discolored the ground around him. His shirt was dyed
crimson. Jack saw, with a shudder, that he had nothing to fear here. The
poor peasant was dead. Shot down by wandering Uhlans no doubt, as he was
about to gather his harvest.

"Poor fellow, he'll never need these now," said Jack, as driven by
thirst and hunger he investigated the stone jug and the basket. One held
cider, the other the man's dinner of black bread, onions and coarse
bacon.

Too famished to mind the idea of eating the dead man's dinner, Jack
stuffed his pockets, took a long pull of the cider jug and then plunged
into the wood. Here he flung himself down to rest and eat. Then, tired
as he was, he forced himself to rise and travel on again.

Faint and far off the distant rumble of cannonading came to his ears,
but here in the woods it was as calm and peaceful as if war, death and
slaughter were forgotten things. At length he came to a place where the
woods thinned out and there was a small clearing. He was about to
advance across this when he saw something that caused his heart to give
a quick leap and stopped him short in his tracks.

At one side of the clearing was an aeroplane!

It was a big monoplane with gauzy, yellow wings and a body painted the
color of the sky on a gray day, no doubt to make it invisible at any
considerable height.

Any doubt that it was a war machine was removed by the sight of a small
but wicked-looking rapid-fire gun that was mounted on its forward part.

Jack was still looking at it, rooted to the spot as if he had been a
figure of stone, when there was a sudden crackle on the floor of the
wood behind him.

Then came an order sharp and crisp.

"Arrette!"

Jack was not a French scholar but there was something in the way the
command was given that made him stand without moving a muscle. Footsteps
came behind him and then he felt rather than saw a man passing from the
rear to face him.

He worked round to the front of the boy and then Jack saw that he was a
small man with carefully waxed mustache in whose hand was a particularly
serviceable-looking revolver, which he held unpleasantly level at Jack's
head.




                            CHAPTER XXXIII.

                       THROUGH BULLET-RACKED AIR.


The man with the revolver gave a sudden cry:

"_Mon ami_ Read-ee!"

"Great Scott, de Garros!" gasped Jack, recognizing the French aviator.
"What are you doing here?"

"I might ask zee same question of you," smiled the other. "I leave you
on zee sheep and now, voila! I find you in a Belgian wood wizout zee
hat, wiz your face scratched by zee bramble and looking--pardon me,
please,--like zee tramp."

"I guess I do," laughed Jack, in his relief at finding that instead of
falling again into the enemy's hands, he had met an old friend; "but I'm
lucky that there's nobody to say 'how natural he looks'----"

"Pardon, I don't understand," said de Garros in a puzzled tone.

Jack plunged into a recital of his adventures, interrupted frequently by
a hail of "_Sacres_," "_Nom d'un noms_," and "_Chiens_," from the
Frenchman.

"And now it's up to you to explain how I find you here in the heart of a
Belgian wood with a war machine," said Jack as he concluded.

"Zat is eezee to explain," said the Frenchman. "After you leave me in
New York I get passage on a French liner for Havre. We arrive and I am
at once placed in command of zee air forces of Belgium. Since zat time,
pardon my conceit, monsieur, I think zat wizout bragging I can say I
'ave cause zee Germans very much trouble. Last night I fly over zee
country and where I see Germans I drop a little souvenir,--but what is
zee matter, monsieur, you look excited."

"No, no, go on," said Jack; "I was just thinking that it's possible the
day of miracles has come back."

De Garros stared at him but went on:

"In zee course of my journey I see a farmhouse where Gerrman cavalry
horses and stacked arms show in zee moonlight," said the Frenchman.

"How did you know they were Germans?" asked Jack.

"Did you not know all zis territory is now overrun by zem? Yesterday
they advance. They are now near Louvain. But nevaire fear, someway we
drive zem back. But to continue. I drop one, two bomb wiz my compliments
and----"

"Saved my life!" exploded Jack.

De Garros looked concerned.

"Once more pardon, my dear Readee, but you are well in zee head? Zee
sun----?"

"No, no, don't you see?" cried Jack; "those were your bombs that
resulted in my being saved from a spy's death."

"_Sacre!_ Ees zat possible? And yet it must 'ave been so! Embrace me, my
dear Readee, nuzzing I 'ave done 'ave give me so much plaisair as zees."

Jack had to submit to being hugged by the enthusiastic little aviator to
whom, as may be expected, he felt the deepest gratitude.

"And now what are zee plan?" asked de Garros, when his enthusiasm had
subsided.

"I want to join my friends in Louvain," said Jack.

"_Nom d'un chien!_ You are trying to walk zere through zees part of zee
country!"

"Why, yes. I----"

"_Mon ami_, you might as well commit zee suicide. It is swarm wiz
German. I hide in zees wood till night when I can travel wizout having
zee bullet swarm like zee bee round what you call zee bonnet."

"Then what am I going to do?" he demanded. "I can't stay here and I've
had one experience with the Germans, and I assure you it was quite
sufficient to last me for a lifetime."

"I 'ave zee plan," said de Garros.

"Yes."

"My aeroplane hold three people."

"Go on."

"You shall fly wiz me."

"To Louvain?"

"If that is possible. If not, to some place where you can communicate
wiz your friend. 'Ow you like zat?"

Jack hesitated a moment. He was not a timid lad, nor did he fear
ordinary danger. Yet flying above the German troops, between the place
where they were talking and Louvain, was a risky business to say the
least of it.

Yet there was no alternative that he could perceive. The mere idea of
getting captured by Uhlans again gave him goose flesh. As if he read his
thoughts de Garros said:

"You run no more of zee reesk in zee flight than you do on zee ground.
Not so much. At night I fly high and I promise you I will not make any
attacks."

"You're on," said Jack, extending his hand.




                             CHAPTER XXXIV.

                          A FLIGHT OF TERROR.


"Take zees. You need zem. We fly fast. _Tres vite._"

De Garros was speaking as he handed Jack a pair of goggles. It was dusk
and they, having finished an excellent meal from the aviator's provision
pannier, were about to start on their flight across the war-smitten
country.

Already the flying man, aided to the best of Jack's ability, had gone
over the aircraft, testing every part of it. Everything was in perfect
order, from the big Gnome eight-cylindered, self-contained motor,
mounted with the big propeller forward, to the last bolt on the
dragonfly tail.

Just before full darkness fell, which might have involved them in an
accident in rising, de Garros gave the word to get on board. They
clambered aboard, Jack with a heart that beat and nerves that throbbed
rather more than was comfortable.

There are few people who do not feel a trifle "queer" before their first
flight above the earth, and in Jack's case the conditions of danger were
multiplied a hundred-fold, for before they had cleared the woods and
risen to a safe height they might be the target for German rifles and
quick firers. De Garros wore a metal helmet padded inside. Jack had to
be content with an old cap that happened to be in the aeroplane, left
there by some machinist.

But, as de Garros said, the metal helmet would not be much protection
against the projectile of a quick firer, or even a rifle.

The fighting aircraft was fitted with a self-starter, obviating the
necessity of swinging the great propeller.

"All ready?" asked the Frenchman of Jack, who sat behind him, tandem
wise, in the long, narrow body of the machine.

"Ready," said Jack, in the steadiest voice just then at his command.

"Then up ve go."

The self-starter purred, and then came the roar and a crackle of the
exhausts as the propeller swung swiftly till it was a blur. Blue smoke
from the castor-oil lubricant spouted, mingled with flame, into the
thickening air of the evening. The wholesome smell of the wood was
drowned in the reek of gasoline and oil fumes.

"Gracious, if there are any Germans within a mile, they'll hear this
racket," thought Jack, with a gulp. "It sounds like a battery of gatling
guns."

De Garros took his foot from the brake lever and the machine darted
forward. Jack clutched the sides desperately till his knuckles showed
white through the skin. Then he gave a shout of alarm.

The machine had suddenly reared up like a startled horse. The jolting
and bumping of the "take-off" stopped. The boy realized with a thrill
that they were flying.

At that instant from the trees on one side of the clearing burst several
Uhlans.

"Germans!" cried Jack.

"Maledictions!" exclaimed the Frenchman.

For a second or two the Uhlans stood paralyzed as the machine shot
upward. They had heard the staccato rattle of the engine from where they
lay camped, not far off in the same woods that had sheltered de Garros
and Jack. Thinking it betokened a skirmish, they had hastily run toward
the noise just in time to see the wasp-like machine whirr its way
skyward.

But the machine was not well above the trees when they recovered from
their surprise. Rifles were leveled.

"Look out!" cried Jack, "they are going to fire on us."

"Hold tight now, I show you zee trick," rejoined the flying man quietly.

The aeroplane was now above the wood which on that side was a mere belt
of tall trees. Suddenly the machine ceased its upward flight. It
rocketed downward like a stone. Above it bullets whistled harmlessly as
the Uhlans fired at the place where it had been and was not.

The ground rushed up to meet them as the machine plummeted downward.
Jack's head swam dizzily.

"We'll be killed sure!" he thought, but strangely enough, without much
emotion, except a dull feeling that the end was at hand. Then just as
disaster seemed inevitable, the machine suddenly began to soar again as
Jack could have sworn it grazed the tall grass.

Up and up they shot, in a long series of circles, and then de Garros
turned and grinned at Jack, showing his white teeth.

"'Ow you like?" he asked.

"I--I guess. I'll tell you after a while" rejoined Jack, with suspended
judgment.

The earth lay far below them now, although it was still light enough to
see the fields marked off like the squares on a chess board and the
countless fires of the Germans that dotted the landscape almost as far
as could be seen. At every one of them were men, who, if any accident
befell the machine and it had to descend, would make things very
interesting for the air travelers.

Jack could not help thinking of this as the aeroplane flew steadily
along, her motor buzzing with an even sound that told all was going
well. But he knew they were not out of danger yet.

A hundred things might befall before they arrived safely in Louvain.




                             CHAPTER XXXV.

                        THE BULLY OF THE CLOUDS.


And then all at once the danger came.

Ahead of them loomed, in the darkness, for the moon had not yet risen, a
bulking dark form.

An exclamation burst from the Frenchman's lips.

"A Zeppelin. Malediction!"

"Do you think she'll attack us?" asked Jack.

"I don't know. I can't tell yet which way she is coming. Ah!"

A long ray of light, like a radiant scimitar, glowed suddenly from the
mighty aircraft, 400 feet long and capable of carrying many men and tons
of explosives.

Hither and thither the ray was flung.

"Zey heard our engines. Zey look for us!" exclaimed de Garros.

He shot up to a greater height. He was manoeuvering to get above the
Zeppelin, where her guns would be useless against the aeroplane, which
was more mobile and swifter in the air than the Kaiser's immense
sky-ship.

But suddenly the glowing light enveloped them in its full blaze.
Dazzlingly it showed them in its rays. It was the most peculiar
sensation Jack had ever experienced. It was like being stood up against
a wall with a fiery sabre pressed to your breast.

With a quick movement of the wheel, de Garros sent the aeroplane out of
range of the revealing light. The next moment came a sharp crackle and
something screamed through the air.

"Missed!" exclaimed the aviator with satisfaction.

Again the questioning finger pointed its interrogating tip hither and
yon across the night sky. Others from below now joined it in its quest.

The firing from above, and the sight of the searchlight had been rightly
guessed by the Germans encamped below. They knew that a hostile aircraft
was above them and were helping in the search for it.

A sharp exclamation broke from the Frenchman. He bent and fumbled with
some contrivance on the floor of the aeroplane.

There was a sharp click.

"What have you done?" asked Jack.

"I have released zee bomb."

"The dickens!"

"Watch! Now you see!"

Fascinated, even in the midst of the awful danger they were facing high
above the earth in the upper air, Jack leaned over and stared at a
battery of searchlights sending out fan-shaped rays on every side.

He guessed this was the objective of de Garros' bombs. He was right.

As he gazed there was what looked like the sudden opening of a flaming
fire below, and the searchlights went out as if a giant had snuffed a
monstrous candle.

Then came the report, booming upward through the air.

"Aha! Zere are some Germans below zere who will not do zee mischief
more!" exclaimed the Frenchman with vicious satisfaction.

But his congratulations to himself were premature.

Again the light of the Zeppelin enveloped them. The glare seemed like a
warm bath of all-revealing light. There was a flash and then the shriek
of a projectile as the aeroplane dipped under the glow of the light.
Then came the boom of the report.

"Zey ought to learn to shoot," muttered de Garros.

"Thank heaven they can do no better than they are," rejoined Jack.

"Now we show zem zee clean pair of heels and run away," said de Garros.

"I'm glad to hear that. I couldn't stand much more of this," thought
Jack.

"If I was alone, or had an officer wiz me, we go above zat Zeppelin high
in zee air and blow him up," announced de Garros cheerfully, after a
minute or two. "Ah! zey get us again. _Peste!_"

The whine of a machine gun sounded as the searchlight of the pursuing
Zeppelin again enveloped the bold little aeroplane. Her great bulk, big
as a steamship, was rushed at top speed through the air. They could
catch the roar of her four motors being driven at top speed.

De Garros had dropped again, and thanks to his skill, the aeroplane was
still unhit, although the projectiles from the quick firer had come
close enough for the occupants of the monoplane to hear their whine.

"We beat zem out!" exclaimed the Frenchman.

"Then we are faster than they are."

"Oh, very much."

"Well, we can't be too fast for me," muttered Jack. "I----"

"_Sacre!_"

The searchlight had again caught them, and again there had come reports
from her underbody. This time the sharp crackle of rifles.

"Are you hurt?" cried Jack, as the Frenchman gave a sharp exclamation
recorded above.

"Malediction, yes. Zey nick my hand. Eet is not bad. But worse zey hit
zee motor I think."

The smooth-running machine was no longer firing regularly. Its speed had
decreased.

"What are you going to do now?" cried Jack. "We'll be mowed down by
those machine guns if we slow up."

"We must come down."

"But the Germans?"

"There are no campfires below us now."

"But can you make a good landing?"

The Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.

"_Parbleu!_ If I cannot zen all our troubles are over, _mon ami_."

The aeroplane began to descend, slowly at first and then faster. The
dark earth sky-rocketed up at them from below.




                             CHAPTER XXXVI.

                          A MYSTERIOUS CAPTURE


But the disaster de Garros had feared more than admitted did not happen.
Between two patches of wood lay an open field, readily distinguished
even in the dark by its lighter color. In the stubble of a mown crop the
aeroplane alighted, not without a considerable jolt to its occupants.

Their main anxiety now was the great Zeppelin they could hear, but not
see, above them. Jack trusted they were equally invisible and that the
searchlight would not reveal them, for high explosive bombs in a deadly
rain from above would certainly follow.

De Garros, while wringing his wounded hand with pain, was helped out of
the machine by Jack.

"Malediction, and I not get zee chance to fire on zat _chien_ of a
Zeppelin," lamented the Frenchman. "Some day I pay zem back."

"Is your hand badly hurt?" asked Jack anxiously.

"I do not know and we dare not yet use zee electric torch I 'ave on zee
machine."

"Why not?"

"It would show zee Zeppelin where we 'ide."

"Then you don't think they guess that we have descended?"

"No, if they had zey would search zee ground wiz zeir light."

"That's so."

"But now they are point eet 'ere, zere, all over zee sky. If zey no find
us zey think zat we are keel and zey go away."

Jack shuddered at the narrow escape they had from this being made
literally true.

For a long time, or so it seemed to the anxious watchers below, the
Zeppelin soared above them, her searchlight swinging in every direction.
But at last the noise of her engines grew dimmer and the light vanished.

"Zey go away disgoost," said de Garros, shrugging his shoulders. "Now we
see what are zee chances of patching up my hand and getting zee engine
going again."

The electric light, carried to locate engine trouble at night, was
switched on and brought out by its long wires over the side of the
craft. Then began an anxious examination of the aviator's hand.

It proved that the tip of his thumb, where it had laid on the edge of
the wheel, had been badly nicked by a bullet, but luckily it was the
left member.

"If zee engine ees capable of being fixed I can drive wiz my right
hand," declared the aviator. "Thank the _bon Dieu_ that it was not zee
steering wheel zat was struck."

With the first aid kit, carried by all soldiers in the field, they soon
dressed and bound the injured member, and then came the examination of
the engine, an investigation on which much depended. If it proved to
have been too badly damaged to be repaired, they would not stand much
chance for escape in a country so overrun with German troops. For all
they knew some might be camped not far off. But they had to take their
chance of that.

"_Ciel_, we are in zee luck!" exclaimed de Garros, after a brief
examination, "the _chiens_ only smashed a spark plug. I soon fix 'im and
zen once more we start."

The repair kit contained the necessary plug, which he quickly replaced.
Then the journey through the night, which had already proved so
eventful, was renewed. But now Jack felt a fresh alarm. How would they
be able to tell at Louvain that it was a French and not a German
aeroplane hovering above them.

He put the question to de Garros.

"Zat is easy. I 'ave on zee side of zee machine a set of four electric
lights. Two are red, one is green, one is white. Zat is zee secret night
signal of zee French machines."

"But suppose the Germans should find out your code?" asked Jack.

"Eet is changed every night. Sometimes two green, one white, one
red--many combinations are possible."

"By Jove, I never thought of that!" exclaimed Jack, struck by the
simplicity of the idea, and relieved at the thought that there would be
no danger of being attacked by mistake.

Half an hour later they landed at a sort of fair ground in Louvain after
answering all challenges satisfactorily. The Germans were not yet at the
gate of the city. But they were near at hand and the place was wrapped
in darkness. However, on account of de Garros' rank, they obtained an
escort to the hotel.

Tired from the excitement and nervous strain, Jack went to bed, sighing
with relief at the thought that all was so promising.

In about an hour or so he awakened from a deep sleep. The night was
sultry, and there was a strange calmness in the atmosphere seemingly
weighed with grave and impending events.

Jack could not resist an impulse to leave his room and wander out into
the deserted streets of Louvain.

He had not taken a dozen steps when a heavy hand fell on his shoulder.
Before he could turn to see his assailant, he was whisked from the
ground and swept onward to a great height.

Still dead silence reigned.




                            CHAPTER XXXVII.

                        THE MIGHT OF MILITARISM.


It was some time later that Jack began to realize that he was a prisoner
and borne on a giant aeroplane.

How did he get there?

Try as he would he could not answer that question. He gazed about him.
Away in the distance he could distinguish small specks of light, which,
were they not moving so rapidly about space, he would have mistaken for
stars.

Below searchlights swept the horizon. Here and there were the
glimmerings of fast dying out camp-fires. Suddenly a faint streamer of
red light shot high into the air, held steadily for a moment, and then
broke into a million colored globules.

"A signal," thought Jack. "I wonder if it will be answered."

He then became aware of a movement on the part of the air pilot. Till
that moment he had not noticed the least sign of life from the wheel
man. Now there came a soft _blob_ and a red light shot into the air.

Almost instantly there again was darkness.

"By Jove!" whispered Jack to himself, amazedly. "This certainly is
marvelously fast work!"

There was no repetition of the signals.

For a while Jack was content to gaze about him in idle wonder. He seemed
indifferent to his plight. He drank in the scenes about him, gazed
interestedly at other air-craft that passed them, and watched the sky
begin to turn a dull slate color. It was the dawn of another day of
carnage.

Others, too, were on the watch for these faint signs of day. From
somewhere came the long, awful boom of a huge cannon.

Jack tried to get up, but fell back to his former position. He only then
realized that he was chained to his seat. He had a certain amount of
freedom, but beyond that he was a prisoner, helpless.

"Well," mused Jack upon this discovery, "even if my hands and feet were
free, I could not escape from this height. We must land some time, and
then I'll have more need to use them."

So Jack settled back to watch developments. Now everything was astir. A
faint murmur was wafted to him on the morning breeze.

He could see the soldiers moving about, the great cannons and howitzers
beginning to lumber onward, the column of Uhlans already in saddle, and
the hundreds of air-craft rising to greet the early sun's rays.

"It's wonderful!" whispered Jack, fascinated. "Yes, wonderful, but how
terrible! This whole array is primed to create nothing but havoc,
sorrow, destruction, and death! Gee, but I'm glad the good old United
States has no need for such military organization!"

Another sound came to his ears, and cut short his thoughts of America.
In an astonishingly brief time, the Army of the Invasion had completed
its formations and was on the march, the rank and file, all
deep-throated men, singing _Das Fatherland_.

"Good God!" gasped Jack. "They are going to their death with a song on
their lips!"

From somewhere in front of these columns came a roar of cannon. The air
was filled with shrill, piercing shrieks as tons upon tons of metal,
charged with fearful destructive powers, tried to stem the human flood.

For a few minutes the smoke and steam hid the dreadful spectacle from
Jack. He gazed intently below him, anxious to see the victor of this
clash.

Of course, it must not be forgotten that the human waves of men were
supported by great artillery fire on their own side. Unaided entirely
these men would have been annihilated miles before the fortresses.

The ranks were on the double run now. Their bayonets glistened in the
dull sunlight. On, on, ever on, they went, keeping perfect stride, never
faltering.

Jack could not tear his eyes from the sight.

Even while storming the redoubt, the ranks held firm. Another sheet of
flame checked them for a moment. They tried to recover, and somehow
couldn't. Again came that destructive, raking fire. The lines faltered.

Jack trembled from excitement. Was this magnificent effort to fail? He
was not thinking of them as Germans. He was only aware of brave,
dauntless men trying to best steel and explosives.

Again came a sheet of flame.

The ranks actually seemed to fall back.

Then once more, from the rear, rose the deep notes of _Das Fatherland_.
It stiffened the thinned ranks. They rushed forward, the fierce cry of
victory mingling with the strains of their national anthem.

"That was great!" cried Jack. "My sympathies are not very strongly with
the Germans, but I'm bound to give credit where credit is due. Well,
what now----?"

Jack became aware that the machine on which he was a prisoner was going
to make a landing. Silently, swiftly, the winged mechanism was guided
toward earth behind the German lines.

Jack smiled with satisfaction.

"I'll have a chance to stretch my legs," he said. "As long as Radwig is
dead, I have not so much to fear. I wonder what they want of me?"




                            CHAPTER XXXVIII

                       MILITARY CROSS-EXAMINATION


The machine came to a stop. The pilot never moved from his seat.
Instead, he motioned to a soldier to come to him. Evidently a few words
were exchanged.

A sharp command was issued.

Two soldiers came up to Jack. He held up his hands to show that he was
chained. One of the soldiers leaned forward, and pressed a button at the
side of the car. The chains fell from Jack.

Without comment the two soldiers seized Jack and flanked him. A detail
of six additional men fell in step, a petty officer wheeled about,--a
movement that acted as a signal for the soldiers to march.

A five-minute walk brought them to a small cottage. Here they halted.
Jack was blindfolded. When the bandage was removed, he found himself
facing an elderly man seated at a desk. Jack could not make out his
features, as they were hidden in a gray mask.

"_Sprechen sie Deutsch?_" he was asked.

Jack understood the question, and replied:

"No."

"What is your nationality?" came the question in English.

"American."

"What part of America?"

"New York."

"Your occupation?"

"Wireless operator."

"For your government?"

"No, for the Transatlantic Shipping Combine."

There followed a short pause. Jack was wondering what next to expect.
The questions had been brief and propounded in a crisp, commanding way.
There was no leeway for equivocation.

"Do you tell the truth?"

"I do," replied Jack quietly.

"Why do you tell the truth?"

"Because I believe in it," said Jack simply.

"Under what circumstances did you first meet Herr Radwig?"

Jack, greatly surprised, hesitated. Would it be wise to tell everything?
How under the sun did this man in the gray mask know so much?

"Remember, the truth."

Jack thought quickly. The question implied that this officer had some
knowledge of his dealings with Radwig. Possibly, also, the officer was
about to test the value of his declaration that he told the truth. So
Jack figured. But was this not an amazing illustration of the wonderful
efficiency and thoroughness of the German Secret Service.

"Speak!" came the imperative command.

"Very well," replied Jack calmly. "It was on the _Kronprinzessin
Emilie_. It seemed that we were about to be dashed to pieces on floating
icebergs. Some shrieked:

"'The _Titanic_!'

"'The boats!' shouted a man. He violently pushed two women aside, wedged
in the panic-stricken throng. I stood at the head of the companion way.
The man told me to get out of the way. I tried to calm the people. But
this man seemed to have lost his reason. He rushed at me, trying to
strike me. I was too quick for him. I struck first. He staggered back,
subdued. It was only later that I learned this man's name."

"And then--how and when did you meet Herr Radwig?"

So Jack had to relate incident after incident. Always, at the end of a
recital, came the same question, asked in the same matter-of-fact tone
of voice:

"And then--when and where did you meet Herr Radwig?"

Everything must have its end. At last Jack had modestly related every
episode with which the reader has been made acquainted. The even tone of
his questioner, his piercing eyes, and the unbroken silence was
beginning to weary Jack. He felt that he could hardly keep his wits
about him.

Evidently the German officer noticed these signs and was patiently
waiting for them. He leaned forward, and the steady monotone now gave
place to a rasping, menacing gruffness.

"Who are you?" he suddenly snapped.

"An American," came the tired reply.

"An American!" jeered the officer.

"Yes, and I'm proud of it!"

"Why should you be proud of something you could not help?"

"I don't understand you," replied Jack, passing his hand over his brow
as if to clear away the ever increasing drowsiness.

"You don't understand me?"

Jack shook his head.

"Answer me!"

Jack opened his mouth to speak, his lips moved, but he could utter no
sound. He stood still, staring stupidly at the man in front of him. His
thoughts were befuddled. What did he--the man in the gray mask--want?

"I wish those eyes wouldn't glare at me so," Jack mumbled to himself. "I
didn't do anything to them."

But the eyes behind the gray mask became larger, rounder, more
compelling. Jack knew instinctively that they meant him harm. What power
they held! Something within him fought to arouse him. He tried to move
and could not. Larger, ever larger those eyes seemed to grow! The
features of the man were lost; in fact, those eyes seemed to belong to
no one; they seemed to have life and power, dreadful power, of their
own.

Jack shrieked with terror!

Was he lost?




                             CHAPTER XXXIX.

                        SHATTERING THE SHACKLES.


Did it ever occur to you that nature plays many pranks? From the many
learned books and men--and from daily events--we are lead to assume that
nature is grim, relentless. On the whole, this assumption is true. But
one of the things that has made nature a harder problem for man to solve
is that there are the most unexpected exceptions to the most carefully
proved rules. Sometimes these exceptions take place with things and
sometimes with persons.

Nature had played a prank with Jack.

When he came to his senses he found de Garros solicitously bending over
him, his broken English running riot in his native French.

"What's up?" questioned bewildered Jack.

De Garros shrugged his shoulders.

"I--er--_phew_! Zee--la--_compron_--eh---- I understand not! You make
zee big cry, I in rush--excited much--_phew_!"

Jack sat up in bed.

"Are we still in Louvain?" he demanded.

"_We_, _we_, certainly!" de Garros hastened to assure him.

A big sigh of relief welled from Jack.

"De Garros," he said, "I have had the most remarkable nightmare!"

Whereupon Jack related to de Garros, as well as he could recall the
details, the dream that had seemed so real.

De Garros was thrilled. Every now and then he broke into the recital
with exclamations most expressive of the impressions they made upon him.

"And now," Jack said in conclusion, "I think it is best for us to dress.
I have never dreamed before, and I never want to dream again, if all
dreams are so terribly real."

De Garros laughingly agreed with him.

When Jack had dressed, he began to explore the corridors of the hotel.
He felt that Bill, Tom Jukes and Pottle were guests of it. Of course,
the easiest way about it would have been to inquire at the office.

As the hour was rather early he did not care to do this at once. A
little later Jack was joined by de Garros, and together they walked into
the dining room. Even at this hour several tables were occupied.

Almost at once the two were espied by their friends. A more amazed and
glad set of chaps would have been indeed difficult to find anywhere.

"Honest, Jack," cried Bill, tears of real joy in his eyes, "we had given
up all hope of ever seeing you again."

"Man alive!" declared Tom Jukes, "you can't imagine how we felt, for we
knew that there was no chance of getting through to save you."

"Blues--here--everybody!" exploded Pottle. "Funeral cheerful in
comparison--no eat--no food--just blues!"

"Come, Jack," invited Bill, "and de Garros, breakfast with us and tell
us about it."

So, between mouthfuls, Jack related his experiences with Radwig's party
of Uhlans. Affectionately he placed his hand on de Garros' arm, and
soberly said:

"I owe my life to you. If it hadn't been for you----"

"It was sure luck, the greatest ever," declared Tom Jukes.

"Fine stuff--fooled the enemy--shot at sunrise--others get shot
instead--up in the air--down again--all safe--at last--hurray!" cried
Pottle, capering about wildly.

"I can't think it was luck," said Jack gravely. "I think there was a
higher power than that concerned in it."

"You are right," agreed Bill.

"Read--ee--_mon ami_, you 'ave not forget zee dream," slyly remarked de
Garros.

Jack turned scarlet. Somehow he felt that it was not very manlike to
have even bothered with nightmares.

"What's this?" demanded Bill.

"Come on, now," coaxed Tom; "don't hold anything back."

"Dreams?" questioned Pottle. "Dreams? Great stuff--big inventors--and
Columbus--dreamers!"

So Jack went over that adventure again.

This time, however, he decided to tell it in the way it actually
happened. The result was that when Jack led them up to the climax he
held even de Garros spellbound.

Jack ceased to speak and looked at his friends.

"How did you get away?" asked Bill.

"I didn't," was the smiling reply.

"You didn't!" came the perplexed chorus.

De Garros was chuckling softly. He had to admire Jack's cleverness.

"Battle--prisoner--great fight--man in gray mask--disappear--eyes bigger
and bigger--what's this--fairy tale?"

"No, Pottle," replied Jack, "it was only a dream."

For a moment there was silence and then they all broke into peals of
laughter, laughter that seemed so strange and out of place in these days
frought with war's devastation.

So they had the good sense to check their merriment, especially as they
saw the eyes of many surprised men and women upon them.

They soon left the dining room, and prepared to leave Louvain. Late that
afternoon arrangements were completed.

Regretful good-byes were said to plucky little de Garros, whose
demonstrative eyes were wet as he clasped their hands in farewell.

"We may nevaire meet again," he stammered, "but I nevaire forget you
all."

"Nor will we forget you!" cried Jack warmly. "You--you, if it hadn't
been for you----"

"Read--ee, _mon ami_, you 'ave forget what you do for me long ago. A
fair exchange. You save _my_ life."

"You're fine," exploded Pottle. "Legion of Honor cross for you--long
war--much dead--much wounded--but you'll live!"

A prediction, strangely enough, that came true.




                              CHAPTER XL.

                            OLD GLORY AGAIN.


Before the fall of Louvain, Jack and his friends were across the border
in France. Ultimately they were lucky enough to rejoin the _St.
Mark_--sent for the accommodation of refugees--at Marseilles.

A cable was despatched to America, telling of Tom Juke's safety.

Pottle, the young photographer, cabled his paper, asking for permission
to remain in the battle zone. This was granted.

So the trio--Jack, Bill and Tom--said farewell to Pottle.

"When I get back--possible--the paper will make--hurrah!--look me
up--eh?"

"We sure will, old top," promised Tom.

The voyage across was without incident, save that, as was expected, they
were stopped by British warships.

So, one fine morning, unannounced, Jack called upon Uncle Toby Ready.
The old tar gave vent to a great cry of joy. Though Jack had often been
away for long periods, Uncle Toby never fully knew the thrilling
adventure Jack had participated in. Now there was no hiding of the
truth. The war was at hand. The Germans were sweeping everything before
them. How had it fared with Jack? This uncertainty had worried Uncle
Toby. He felt that he would never be able to forgive himself, had
anything happened to Jack.

When the first greetings were over, Uncle Toby could not help but ask
about his Golden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man and Beast.

"Did you meet up with the King of England?" he queried.

"No, Uncle Toby," laughed Jack, "I did not."

"Be it so with the Kaiser?"

"No, not the Kaiser, either."

"How now--was it the Czar?"

Jack shook his head.

"But made a--use of 'em?"

"Yes," replied Jack with a twinkle in his eye. "I did make----"

At this moment there came a sharp rap on the door. Jack opened it, and a
messenger, upon ascertaining who he was, handed him a telegram.

"What now?" demanded Uncle Toby.

Jack tore open the envelope. The inclosed sheet read:

    "Congratulations and grateful appreciation. Report immediately.

                                                      "JACOB JUKES."

"Yeou ain't a-goin' back to Europe!" declared Uncle Toby emphatically.

"Don't worry, Uncle," replied Jack. "I don't think it is for that Mr.
Jukes wants me."

"Well, if he don't," replied the old captain, "give 'im a bottle of my
Golden Embrocation and Universal Remedy for Man and Beast with my
compliments."

"All right," laughed Jack as he put the bottle in his pocket, never
intending, of course, to carry out the errand.

Jack found Mr. Jukes in earnest conversation with his son, Tom. However,
the moment Jack entered, father and son arose.

"Jack," said Mr. Jukes, extending his hand, "let me thank you."

It was said sincerely and simply. Their handclasp was hearty and true.

Mr. Jukes began to pace the office.

Tom looked at Jack and winked.

"Young man," suddenly said Mr. Jukes, sternly addressing Jack, "you are
bound to succeed in life. You have the _makings_. You have your
trade--or shall I call it profession? But operating wireless is not
everything. You can be a wireless operator all your life and your salary
will be your only means of keeping the wolf from the door. Too many of
our people have to depend on that means of support. Some day I feel it
will be different. At all events, I shall make a beginning with you. So
Tom and I have decided to give you a number of shares in our Combine."

Thereupon Mr. Jukes went on to explain the value of the shares,
instructing Jack just what he should do with them. To tell the truth,
Jack had never troubled himself very much with the intricacies of stock
values.

Finally Jack left Mr. Jukes' office feeling like a millionaire.

"Strange," mused Jack, "that this good fortune should come to me when
thousands of others are losing their all in Europe."

Feeling thus satisfied, Jack decided to acquaint Helen Dennis with the
good news. As he strolled down to the dock, he could not help but note
that in so far as New York was concerned, the war did not exist. People
went about their business in their accustomed way. Beyond the usual set
or serious expression characteristic of the average New Yorker when he
is engaged in earning his dividends or salary, as the case may be in
different instances and walks of life, the average person seemed
absolutely unconcerned of the World Tragedy that was unfolding itself
across the sea.

At the docks, however, there was increased activity. The demand upon
American ammunition and commodities had jumped by leaps and bounds.
Shippers were reaping a harvest.

The _Silver Star_, Captain Dennis' ship, was in port. Jack had little
difficulty in getting aboard. Captain Dennis was delighted to see Jack.
He could spare but little time, so when Jack had told him only briefly
of his experiences, the wise tar, his eyes twinkling with mischief,
said:

"Really, Jack, don't you think Helen would be more interested in your
adventures?"

Jack blushed.

"Never mind, lad," laughed the captain, "we all have those days, you
know."

So Jack made his way to the captain's cabin.

But let us say nothing more of them; rather let us ask what became of
Bill Raynor?




                              CHAPTER XLI.

                         WAR IN TIMES OF PEACE.


Just before Jack called upon his Uncle Toby, Bill had expressed a desire
to stroll about the Great City.

"You see," Bill said in explanation, "the sight of old New York makes me
glad to be back again. They say it's a selfish place. Well, perhaps
there are towns that make you feel more at home, but once you know
Manhattan's ways, you don't want to change!"

"Have it your way," agreeably laughed Jack.

So they parted for the time being.

Feeling hungry, Bill decided to visit one of the select downtown
restaurants his purse seldom allowed him to patronize. Now, as the
reader will remember, Bill had no need to worry over funds--at any rate,
not for the immediate future.

Bill thoroughly enjoyed his meal. He left the restaurant feeling like a
prince.

"Those prices are steep," he reflected, "but the food and service are
worth it."

Barely had he walked a block when he recognized Tom Jukes a few strides
in front of him. Bill's first impulse was to hail Tom, but something
about the latter made him hesitate.

"Something seems queer," muttered Tom, puzzled. He was undecided. Should
he follow the millionaire's son?

Tom Jukes seemed anxious to avoid being seen. Every now and then he
glanced about him hurriedly. He kept close to the building line, his cap
pulled over his eyes. He turned into one of those ancient alleys down in
the financial district of New York.

Bill Raynor came to a quick decision.

"I'll follow him!" he muttered.

A moment later Bill was also in the moldy alleyway. Tom swung south,
then west, and south again, and finally halted before a pair of
ornamental iron gates of the most antique and peculiar design.

Bill, mystified that such places still existed in the Great Metropolis,
dogged Tom's footsteps, always careful to keep well out of sight.

He saw Tom pass through these iron gates. A moment later Bill had
followed Tom through, though now he had to be far more careful, for
every flagstone seemed to give up a hollow bellow.

Tom walked up an iron staircase clinging to a decaying bulk of a
dirt-gray stone ramshackle building. He climbed one flight and then
disappeared from view.

Bill, very carefully--every nerve alert--followed. A moment later he
stepped into a long, dim, lofty corridor, walled with marble of a
greenish tint, and smelling faintly of dry-rot.

Picking his steps with the greatest caution, Bill felt his way forward.
Somewhere in front of him he saw the shadowy form of Tom.

Bill saw Tom pause before a door, which he opened very slowly. A faint
light came from within. A moment later Tom had disappeared from view.

Bill crept forward.

Should he open the door?

"I wish Jack were here," said Bill to himself.

Jack, it was, who had won the approval of Jacob Jukes, head of the great
shipping combine, and father of Tom, for his masterly handling of many
difficult situations.

Under the circumstances, Bill did not flinch in his determination to
learn _what was going on behind that door_!

Bill put his ear to the door--and at once heard a faint _tick-tick_, as
well as a muffled voice. Slowly Bill felt the door for the knob and to
his surprise he found there was none!

"Entrance by signal only!" instantly decided Bill.

But how was he to get in without it?

His eyes were now more accustomed to the gloom. He looked about him,
hoping to find a window or some outlet that might lead to the barred
room.

Farther down the corridor, to his right, he saw a stairway--or what
appeared to be a stairway. He walked toward it, always bearing in mind
to be extremely careful.

He climbed up one flight without mishap. On this floor, the feeling of
desertion and forlorn desolation grew deeper. Bill could barely suppress
a shiver.

Suddenly a rat scampered across the floor.

"Phew!" ejaculated Bill, "this is _some_ place!"

He noticed a thin ray of daylight a short distance from him. Bill at
once decided to discover its origin. A moment later he saw that the
light flowed from the cracks of a door.

A brief investigation proved the door to be unlocked. As he quietly
pulled the door open he saw that the room was absolutely bare, and that
the light came from the mud-pasted windows facing a brick wall not five
feet from them.

Bill tip-toed across the room, and raised one of the windows. To his
satisfaction he at once noticed the drain pipe at arm's length. A moment
later he had slid to the floor below.

To his surprise he saw the window of that mysterious room wide open. He
could see only part of it. There seemed many men listlessly sitting
about, though the majority kept unseeing eyes on a blackboard.

"A blind tiger!" breathed Bill, amazed.

Bill meant that it was a fake racing broker's place. In years gone by
there were many such dens of evil in New York, where congregated the
broken-hearted, the reckless, the unscrupulous, all of whom tempted fate
on this horse or that. As a rule the proprietor controlled the destinies
of his victims, for he could "fake" any information he desired as to
what horse won or lost. Happily these dens are now more scarce than
hen's teeth. It was these dens, the graves of dupes, that were called
_blind tigers_.

"Does Tom play the ponies?" wondered Bill.

He listened intently.

Somewhere a ticker droned, and a husky voice announced:

"Gas a half--five eighths; Steel six--nine hundred at a quarter--a
thousand--five-hundred--a quarter--an eighth--Erie--an eighth--Steam--an
eighth----"

"What does this mean?" questioned Bill. "It sounds like stock
quotations. Can it be----?"

He decided to risk glancing into the room.

At some risk of losing his hold he balanced himself in order to
accomplish his wish.

He saw a room, unclean and unwholesome. The men seemed to be of the
discarded of the street, the diseased and maimed of the financial
district; here and there was a younger, smarter type, the kind that
makes the gangster, the pickpocket and worse. He also saw Tom sitting
quietly yet alert. At his elbow was a young man, somewhat older than
Tom. On the wall facing the window was a great blackboard, and as the
ticker spelled out its information, and the slovenly dressed clerk gave
it voice, a second clerk chalked away without cessation.

Beyond this clerk's announcements everything was quiet. Bill felt
himself slipping, so he silently swung back to his former position. The
light of understanding was in his eyes.

"By Jove, it's a bucket shop!"

Now a bucket shop is where people buy and sell stock on less margin or
in smaller quantity than is accepted on the curb on Broad Street or on
the Stock Exchange. These establishments, too, are fast disappearing,
though as is always possible in New York, an exception--as in all
directions of semi-organized crime--manages to keep from the sharp
talons of the law for a longer period of time.

The bucket shops were where messenger boys and clerks gamboled with Dame
Fortune. Sooner or later they lost--lost not only every cent to their
names, but much of their self-respect and honesty. It was also the place
for the men who had gone down to defeat in the great battle fought
bitterly every minute of the day in the great financial arena. These men
were unfit for everything else, so they turned to the bucket shops as a
drowning man grasps at a straw. But we have digressed enough--though
this was really necessary--and let us continue with the narrative.

Bill did not know what to make of it all.

Surely Tom Jukes had little need to play for stakes. His father was
sufficiently wealthy and knew the great money game, and its pitfalls,
not to have acquainted his son with them. The more Bill thought, the
more puzzled he became.

Suddenly he heard Tom shout:

"You robber, you thief!"

"Git out," bawled the voice, evidently that of the proprietor, "or I'll
have you put out!"

"You do, and I'll have you in the hands of the police within twenty-four
hours!"

"You will, will you?" came the snarling challenge, followed by a general
commotion.

"Here's where I take a hand!" decided Bill, and leaped into the room,
now in fearful confusion.

"Stop!" cried Bill, drawing his revolver, which he had a special permit
to carry at any time he wished, "or I'll fire!"

His command was obeyed.

"Stand where you are!" Bill demanded, noting a suspicious movement on
the part of several to escape.

"Bill, good old Bill!" exclaimed Tom, overjoyed.

"Yes, it's Bill," was the reply. "Call up Headquarters while I hold them
in line."

"That's your tip, Fred," said Tom, turning to the young man Bill had
noticed before. "On the run now!"

The young man called Fred seemed to need no further invitation.

Tom now joined Bill. From one of the drawers of the desk at which the
proprietor had been seated, Tom brought to light an ugly-looking Colt.

"Let's move 'em toward the rear!" suggested Tom. "Some of 'em are
showing signs of restlessness."

"All right!" acquiesced Bill.

So, at the point of the revolvers, everyone in the room was lined up
against the rear wall. The older men, who had seen better days, appeared
indifferent to it all. To them life meant very little. Spirit, youth,
ambition, success had long passed them by. They still clung to the vain
hope of winning something out of sheer habit. Stock gambling, like
opium, oftentimes urges on its victim until the sands of life slowly ebb
away. The younger no-accounts scowled darkly. But what could they do?
Those two lads were too business-like to attempt anything rash.

"Say," growled the proprietor, addressing Tom, "can't we call this
quits?"

"Nothing doing!" was the curt reply, both boys at once becoming more
alert that ever.

"Aw, take a joke," pleaded the man. "I'll square it with you. Honest I
will."

Both boys remained silent.

"I'll tell you what," continued the owner, "just to square myself, I'll
throw in one hundred dollars."

Silence.

"Five hundred!"

"You're going out of business," announced Tom. "Save your breath!"

"One thousand dollars!"

"One more word," warned Bill, "and I won't be responsible for my action.
Keep still."

Defeated, the man depicted his silent disdain.

A moment later Fred and the police arrived. The police captain in charge
wanted the boys to go along to press the charge, but Tom, upon quickly
satisfying the officer of their intentions of doing so the next
day--especially establishing that Tom was the son of Jacob Jukes, the
multimillionaire--were at liberty to proceed as they pleased.

"Explanations are now in order."

"Correct," replied Tom. "Let me first introduce Fred Strong, an old-time
friend of mine. Bill Raynor, one of the finest boys in the world!"

The introduction was acknowledged with appropriate remarks. Tom then
unfolded a most interesting story. Fred was a Wall Street clerk--and,
like many others, dabbled in stocks. He kept on losing. So, desperate,
he attempted to court luck at the bucket shop a friend of his had told
him of. For a time he won. His hopes rose. Then the inevitable reverses
began. The proprietor meanwhile had studied his victim. Fred, without
realizing it, became one of his dupes. He loaned money from every one.
He began to tamper with his books. Disgrace stared him in the face when
he met Tom. A few hours had straightened out all tangles. Tom, however,
insisted on bringing the bucket shop keeper to book.

"Well, that's all to it!" interspersed Tom.

"Hold on," expostulated Bill, "why did you sneak along the street as if
wishing to be unrecognized?"

"Easy," replied Tom. "Saw dad, across the street, so had to--as you
say--_sneak_."

"_Phew!_" whistled Bill, astonished. "I never saw him. One other point,
how did you know the revolver was in that desk?"

"It seems," answered Tom, "that the bucket shop proprietor made it a
practice to show new customers that weapon. I suppose it was an
effective reminder that all disagreements might be settled rather
abruptly."

"Well," chimed in Fred, "let us forget about it. I'll never play the
market again. But, boys, I want you to come with me. I have to tell this
story to the sweetest girl in town. You've got to meet her!"

"If you insist, lead on," replied Tom. "But suppose you tell her the
truth of the matter, and then,--well--I guess Bill and I will be
honored, I'm sure!"

Bill laughed outright.

"I never suspected," he said, "you had so much of the so-called 'society
sass'."

Tom chuckled with glee. He was highly satisfied with the first day's
adventure in America. In excellent spirits, the trio rode uptown. While
en route Bill briefly told, in turn, of catching sight of Tom, and the
consequences thereof.

An hour later Fred brought them to a neatly nestled house. There was a
hand-ball court on the property, and Fred saw to it that they were made
to feel at home. Then he entered the house.

"Elsie," said Fred, when first greetings were over and they were
comfortably settled, "I've something to tell you."

"What is it, Fred?"

"I--I couldn't buy you the engagement ring--be--because I lost the
money."

"That is _too_ bad! But don't mind it, dear. I can wait."

"It's nice of you to say it, but I lost the money on stocks."

"Tell me about it," she requested calmly, though there was a break in
her voice.

So Fred related the facts already familiar to us. Nor did he spare
himself in the recital. At its conclusion, there was a moment's silence.
Then----

"Fred," said the girl softly, "I'm glad you told me of this. Please,
Fred, don't gamble again--whether it be on cards or stocks--and if you
were younger--I'd add buttons and marbles."

"I've already promised not to do so--but Elsie, I have something else to
tell you. I have a new position at a higher salary--thirty dollars a
week."

"That's great!"

"It'll be more--if I make good."

"Fred, I'm _so_ glad."

A pause.

"The cost of living is very high now," asked Fred--"isn't it?"

"I should say so! Diamonds will soon be cheaper than onions or potatoes
or cut sugar."

"Elsie!"

"Yes?"

"Would you like--could you--I mean--er--do you think two persons could
live on thirty dollars a week?"

"_Certainly!_"

"How about _us_?"

"Oh, George!"

"Elsie!"

A blissful interval. Then--

"Elsie--I've completely forgotten! Those two boys I told you of are
playing handball. They insisted that I confess my crimes before you met
them!"

A moment later Fred was introducing Tom and Bill to Elsie. The young
lady's form of greeting was most unexpected and unconventional. Before
either of the boys could surmise her intention, she had kissed them!

Of course general laughter and banter followed. Of this let us say no
more.

The reader, however, may rest assured that the boys whose adventures we
have followed through six volumes were always true to American ideals
and aspirations. They participated in many strange and thrilling
adventures. We may write of these in the near future, but for the time
being, with every good wish for the bright future that appears assured
to them, we will bid farewell to the Ocean Wireless Boys.

                                THE END.

------------------------------------------------------------------------

Transcriber's Notes:

  1. Obvious typographical errors have been corrected.
  2. Inconsistent spelling and hyphenation in the original document
     have been preserved.
  3. Underscores indicate text originally in printed in italics.





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