Bert Wilson, Wireless Operator

by Marion Ames Taggart

  Produced by Donald Cummings and the Online DistributedProofreading Team at https://www.pgdp.net (This file wasproduced from images generously made available by TheInternet Archive/American Libraries.)

  BERT WILSON, Wireless Operator

  BY

  J. W. DUFFIELD

  AUTHOR OF "BERT WILSON AT THE WHEEL," "BERT WILSON, MARATHON WINNER," "BERT WILSON'S FADEAWAY BALL"

  Copyright, 1913, By SULLY AND KLEINTEICH

  _All rights reserved._

  Published and Printed, 1924, by Western Printing & Lithographing Company Racine, Wisconsin Printed in U. S. A.

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER PAGE I. RUNNING AMUCK 1 II. AN UNEXPECTED MEETING 14 III. A STARTLING MESSAGE 26 IV. THE FLAMING SHIP 38 V. AN ISLAND PARADISE 56 VI. THE "GRAY GHOST" 70 VII. A SWIM FOR LIFE 79 VIII. THE CAPTURED SHARK 90 IX. IN THE HEART OF THE TYPHOON 99 X. THE DERELICT 111 XI. THE TIGER AT BAY 124 XII. AMONG THE CANNIBALS 141 XIII. THE HUNTING WOLVES 159 XIV. THE LAND OF SURPRISES 179 XV. THE DRAGON'S CLAWS 195 XVI. THE PIRATE ATTACK 211

  BERT WILSON, WIRELESS OPERATOR

  CHAPTER I

  RUNNING AMUCK

  "Amuck! Amuck! He's running amuck! Quick! For your lives!"

  The drowsy water front pulsed into sudden life. There was a sound ofrunning feet, of hoarse yells, a shriek of pain and terror as a knifebit into flesh, and a lithe, brown figure leaped upon the steamer'srail.

  It was a frightful picture he presented, as he stood there, holding to astanchion with one hand, while, in the other, he held a crooked daggerwhose point was stained an ominous red. He was small and wiry, only alittle over five feet in height, but strong and quick as a panther. Hisblack hair, glossy with cocoa oil, streamed in the wind, his eyes werelurid with the wild light of insanity, his lips were parted in a savagesnarl, and he was foaming at the mouth. He had lost all semblance ofhumanity, and as he stood there looking for another victim, he mighthave been transported bodily from one of Dore's pictures of Dante'sInferno. Suddenly, he caught sight of a group of three coming downthe pier, and leaping to the wharf, he started toward them, his barefeet padding along noiselessly, while he tightened his grip on themurderous knife. A shot rang out behind him but missed him, and he kepton steadily, drawing nearer and nearer to his intended prey.

  The three companions, toward whom doom was coming so swiftly andfearfully, were now halfway down the pier. They were typical youngAmericans, tall, clean cut, well knit, and with that easy swingand carriage that marks the athlete and bespeaks splendid physicalcondition. They had been laughing and jesting and were evidently onexcellent terms with life. Their eyes were bright, their faces tingedwith the bronzed red of perfect health, the blood ran warmly throughtheir veins, and it seemed a bitter jest of fate that over them, of allmen, should be flung the sinister shadow of death. Yet never in alltheir life had they been so near to it as on that sleepy summerafternoon on that San Francisco wharf.

  At the sound of the shot they looked up curiously. And then they saw.

  By this time the Malay was not more than fifty feet away. He was runningas a mad dog runs, his head shaking from side to side, his krissbrandished aloft, his burning eyes fixed on the central figure of thethree. He expected to die, was eager to die, but first he wanted tokill. The dreadful madness peculiar to the Malay race had come upon him,and the savage instincts that slumbered in him were now at flood. Hehad made all his preparations for death, had prayed to his deities,blackened his teeth as a sign of his intention, and devoted himself tothe infernal gods. Then by the use of maddening drugs he had workedhimself into a state of wild delirium and started forth to slay. Theyhad sought to stop him as he rushed out from the cook's galley, buthe had slashed wildly right and left and one of them had been leftdangerously wounded on the steamer's deck. The captain and mates hadrushed to their cabins to get their revolvers, and it was the shot fromone of these that had tried vainly to halt him in his death dealingcourse. The crew, unarmed, had sought refuge where they could, andnow, with his thirst for blood still unslaked, he rushed toward theunsuspecting strangers.

  For one awful instant their hearts stood still as they caught sight ofthe fiendish figure bearing down upon them. None of them had a weapon.They had never dreamed of needing one. Their stout hearts and, at need,their fists, had always proved sufficient, and they shared the healthyAmerican repugnance at relying on anything else than nature had giventhem. There was no way to evade the issue. Had they turned, the madman,with the impetus he already had, would have been upon them before theycould get under way. There was no alternative. They _must_ play withthat grim gambler, Death, with their lives as the stakes. And at thethought, they stiffened.

  The Malay was within ten feet. Quick as a flash, the taller of the threedove straight for the madman's legs. The latter made a wicked slashdownward, but his arm was caught in a grip of iron, and the next instantthe would-be murderer was thrown headlong to the pier, his knifeclattering harmlessly to one side. The three were on him at once, and,though he fought like a wildcat, they held him until the crowd, bold nowthat the danger was past, swarmed down on the wharf and trussed himsecurely with ropes. Then the trio rose, shook themselves and looked ateach other.

  "By Jove, Bert," said the one who had grasped the Malay's arm as it wasupraised to strike, "that was the dandiest tackle I ever saw, and I'veseen you make a good many. If you'd done that in a football game onThanksgiving day, they'd talk of it from one end of the country to theother."

  "O, I don't know, Dick," responded Bert. "Perhaps it wasn't so bad, butthen, you know, I never had so much at stake before. Even at that Iguess it would have been all up with me, if you hadn't grabbed thatfellow's hand just at the minute you did."

  "If I hadn't, Tom would," rejoined Dick lightly. "He went for it at thesame instant, but I was on the side of the knife hand and so got therefirst. But it was a fearfully close shave," he went on soberly, "and Ifor one have had enough of crazy Malays to last me a lifetime."

  "Amen to that," chimed in Tom, fervently, "a little of that sort ofthing goes a great way. If this is a sample of what we're going to meet,there won't be much monotony on this trip."

  "Well, no," laughed Bert, "not so that you could notice it. Still, whenyou tackle the Pacific Ocean, you're going to find it a differentproposition from sailing on a mill pond, and I shouldn't be surprised ifwe found action enough to keep our joints from getting rusty before weget back."

  The crowd that had seemed to come from everywhere were loud in theircommendation of the boys' courage and presence of mind. Soon, anambulance that had been hastily summoned rattled up to the pier, at topspeed, and took charge of the wounded sailor, while a patrol wagoncarried the maniac to the city prison. The throng melted away as rapidlyas it had gathered, and the three chums mounted the gangway of thesteamer. A tall, broad shouldered man in a captain's uniform advanced togreet them.

  "That was one of the pluckiest things I ever saw," he said warmly, as hegrasped their hands. "You were lucky to come out of that scrape alive.Those Malays are holy terrors when they once get started. I've seen themrunning amuck in Singapore and Penang before now, but never yet on thisside of the big pond. That fellow has been sullen and moody for days,but I've been so busy getting ready to sail that I didn't give it asecond thought. I had a bead drawn on the beggar when he was makingtoward you, but didn't dare to fire for fear of hitting one of you. Butall's well that ends well, and I'm glad you came through it without asc
ratch. You were coming toward the ship," he went on, as he looked atthem inquiringly, "and I take it that your business was with me."

  "Yes, sir," answered Bert, acting as spokesman. "My name is Wilson, andthese are my two friends, Mr. Trent and Mr. Henderson."

  "Wilson," repeated the captain in pleased surprise. "Why, not thewireless operator that the company told me they had engaged to make thistrip?"

  "The same," replied Bert, smiling.

  "Well, well," said the captain, "I'm doubly glad to meet you, although Ihad no idea that our first meeting would take place under such excitingcircumstances. You can't complain that we didn't give you a warmreception," he laughed. "Come along, and I'll show you your quarters andintroduce you to the other officers."

  Had any one told Bert Wilson, a month earlier, that on this June day hewould be the wireless operator of the good ship "_Fearless_," AbelManning, Captain, engaged in the China trade, he would have regarded itas a joke or a dream. He had just finished his Freshman year in College.It had been a momentous year for him in more ways than one. He had wondistinction in his studies--a matter of some satisfaction to histeachers. But he had been still more prominent on the college diamond--amatter of more satisfaction to his fellow students. He had just emergedfrom a heart breaking contest, in which his masterly twirling had wonthe pennant for his Alma Mater, and incidentally placed him in the veryfront rank of college pitchers. His plans for the summer vacation wereslowly taking shape, when, one day, he was summoned to the office of theDean.

  "Sit down, Wilson," he said, as he looked up from some papers, "I'll beat liberty in a moment."

  For a few minutes he wrote busily, and then whirled about in his officechair and faced Bert, pleasantly.

  "What are your plans for the summer, Wilson?" he asked. "Have youanything definite as yet?"

  "Not exactly, sir," answered Bert. "I've had several invitations tospend part of the time with friends, but, as perhaps you know, I haven'tany too much money, and I want to earn some during the vacation, to helpme cover my expenses for next year. I've written to my Congressman atWashington to try to get me work in one of the wireless stations on thecoast, but there seems to be so much delay and red tape about it that Idon't know whether it will amount to anything. If that doesn't develop,I'll try something else."

  "Hum," said the Dean, as he turned to his desk and took a letter from apigeon hole. "Now I have here a line from Mr. Quinby, the manager of abig fleet of steamers plying between San Francisco and the chief portsof China. It seems that one of his vessels, the _Fearless_, needs a goodwireless operator. The last one was careless and incompetent, and theline had to let him go. Mr. Quinby is an old grad of the college, andan intimate personal friend of mine. He knows the thoroughness ofour scientific course"--here a note of pride crept into the Dean'svoice--"and he writes to know if I can recommend one of our boys for theplace. The voyage will take between two and three months, so that youcan be back by the time that college opens in the Fall. The pay is goodand you will have a chance to see something of the world. How would youlike the position?"

  How would he like it? Bert's head was in a whirl. He had always wantedto travel, but it had seemed like an "iridescent dream," to be realized,if at all, in the far distant future. Now it was suddenly made asplendid possibility. China and the islands of the sea, the lands offruits and flowers, of lotus and palm, of minarets and pagodas, ofglorious dawns and glittering noons and spangled nights! The East rosebefore him, with its inscrutable wisdom, its passionless repose, itsheavy-lidded calm. It lured him with its potency and mystery, itswitchery and beauty. Would he go!

  He roused himself with an effort and saw the Dean regarding him with aquizzical smile.

  "Like it," he said enthusiastically, "there's nothing in all the world Ishould like so well. That is," he added, "if you are sure I can do thework. You know of course that I've had no practical experience."

  "Yes," said the Dean, "but I've already had a talk with your Professorof Applied Electricity, and he says that there isn't a thing aboutwireless telegraphy that you don't understand. He tells me that you areequally familiar with the Morse and the Continental codes, and that youare quicker to detect and remedy a defect than any boy in your class.From theory to practice will not be far, and he is confident that beforeyour ship clears the Golden Gate you'll know every secret of itswireless equipment from A to Z. I don't mind telling you that your namewas the first one that occurred to both him and myself, as soon as thematter was broached. Mr. Quinby has left the whole thing to me, so that,if you wish to go, we'll consider the matter settled, and I'll send hima wire at once."

  "I'll go," said Bert, "and glad of the chance. I can't thank you enoughfor your kindness and confidence, but I'll do my very best to deserveit."

  "I'm sure of that," was the genial response, and, after a few moredetails of time and place had been settled, Bert took the extended handof the Dean and left the office, feeling as though he were walking onair.

  His first impulse was to hunt up his two chums, Tom and Dick, and tellthem of his good fortune. Tom was a fellow classmate, while Dick had hadone year more of college life. The bond that united them was no commonone, and had been cemented by a number of experiences shared togetherfor several years back. More than once they had faced serious injury orpossible death together, in their many scrapes and adventures, and theway they had backed each other up had convinced each that he had in theothers comrades staunch and true. During the present year, they had allbeen members of the baseball team, Tom holding down third base indashing style and Dick starring at first; and many a time the three hadpulled games out of the fire and wrested victory from defeat. In workand fun they were inseparable; and straight to them now Bert went,flushed and elated with the good luck that had befallen him.

  "Bully for you, old man," shouted Dick, while Tom grabbed his hand andclapped him on the back; "It's the finest thing that ever happened."

  "It sure is," echoed Tom. "Just think of good old Bert among the Chinks._And_ the tea houses--_and_ the tomtoms--_and_ the bazaars--_and_ thejinrikishas--and all the rest. By the time he gets back, he'll havealmond eyes and a pig-tail and be eating his rice with chop sticks."

  "Not quite as bad as that, I hope," laughed Bert. "I've no ambition tobe anything else than a good American, and probably all I'll see abroadwill only make me the more glad to see the Stars and Stripes again whenI get back to 'God's country.' But it surely will be some experience."

  Now that the first excitement was over, the conversation lagged alittle, and a slight sense of constraint fell upon them. All werethinking of the same thing. Tom was the first to voice the commonthought.

  "Gee, Bert," he said, "how I wish that Dick and I were coming along!"

  "Why not?" asked Dick, calmly.

  Bert and Tom looked at him in amazement.

  "What!" yelled Bert. "You don't really think there's a chance?"

  "A chance? Yes," answered Dick. "Of course it's nothing but a chance--asyet. The whole thing is so sudden and there are so many things to betaken into account that it can't be doped out all at once. It may proveonly a pipe dream after all. But Father promised me a trip abroad atthe end of my course, if I got through all right, and, under thecircumstances, he may be willing to anticipate a little. Then too, youknow, he's a red-hot baseball fan, and he's tickled to death at the waywe trimmed the other teams this year. And we all know that Tom's folkshave money to burn, and it ought to be no trick at all for him to gettheir consent. I tell you what, fellows, let's get busy with the homepeople, right on the jump."

  And get busy they did, with the result that after a great deal ofhumming and hawing and backing and filling, the longed for consents weremore or less reluctantly given. The boys' delight knew no bounds, and itwas a hilarious group that made things hum on the Overland Limited, asit climbed the Rockies and dropped down the western slope to the ocean.The world smiled upon them. Life ran riot within them. They had noinkling of how closely death would graze them before they even set
footupon their ship. Nor did they dream of the perils that awaited them, indays not far distant when that ship, passing through the Golden Gate,should turn its prow toward the East and breast the billows of thePacific.