The Ocean Wireless Boys And The Naval Code Part 26

A sudden lurch of the hatchway on which he was drifting, and the sound of a slithering motion as of some heavy body being dragged along some rough surface, made him turn his head.

What he saw made him almost lose his grip on the hatchway.

[Ill.u.s.tration: What he saw made him almost lose his grip on the hatchway.]

The hideous flat head and wicked eyes of a huge python faced him. The great snake, escaping somehow from the catastrophe to the menagerie s.h.i.+p, had swum for the same refuge Jack had chosen. Now it was dragging its brilliantly mottled body, as thick as a man's thigh, up upon the hatchway. The floating "raft" dipped under the great snake's weight, while Jack, literally petrified with horror, watched without motion or outcry.

But apparently the snake was too badly stunned by the explosion to be inclined for mischief. It coiled its great body compactly in gay-colored folds on the hatch and lay still. But Jack noticed that its mottled eyes never left his figure.

"Gracious, I can't stand this much longer," thought Jack.

He looked about him for another bit of wreckage to which he might swim and be free of his unpleasant neighbor. But the debris had all drifted far apart by this time and his limbs felt too stiffened by his involuntary dive to the depths of the ocean for him to attempt a long swim.

Not far off he could see the boats busily transferring the castaways of the _Oriana_ on board. Supposing they pulled away from the scene without seeing him? Undoubtedly, they deemed him lost and would not make a search for him. Warmly as the sun beat down, Jack felt a chill that turned his blood to ice-water run over him at the thought. Left to drift on the broad Atlantic with a serpent for a companion and without a weapon with which to defend himself. The thought was maddening and he resolutely put it from him.

So far the great snake had lain somnolently, but now, as the sun began to warm its body, Jack saw the brilliantly colored folds begin to writhe and move. It suddenly appeared to become aware of him and raised its flat, spade-shaped head above its coils.

Its tongue darted in and out of its red mouth viciously. Jack became conscious of a strong smell of musk, the characteristic odor of serpents.

His mouth went dry with fear, although he was naturally a brave lad, as we know. A dreadful fascination seemed to hold him in thrall. He could not have moved a muscle if his life, as he believed it did, depended on his escape. The hideous head began to sway rhythmically in a sort of dance. Still Jack could not take his eyes from that swaying head and darting red tongue. A species of hypnotic spell fell over him. He heard nothing and saw nothing but the swaying snake.

All at once the head shot forward. With a wild yell Jack, out of his trance at last, fell backward off the hatch into the water. At the same instant Mr. Billings' pistol spoke. Again and again he fired it till the great snake's thres.h.i.+ng form lay still in death. Unwilling to give Jack up for lost, although he feared in his heart that this was the case, the third officer would not leave the scene till all hope was exhausted.

Sweeping the vicinity with his gla.s.ses, he had spied the impending tragedy on the hatch.

Full speed had been made to the rescue at once and, as we know, aid arrived in the nick of time. As Jack rose sputtering to the surface strong hands pulled him into the boat. He was told what had happened.

"A narrow escape," said Mr. Billings, beside whom sat Captain Sanders of the lost steamer. He looked the picture of woe.

"I owe my life to you, Mr. Billings," burst out Jack, holding out his hand.

The seaman took it in his rough brown palm.

"That's all right, my lad," he said. "Maybe you'll do as much for me some day."

And then, as if ashamed even of this display of emotion, he bawled out in his roughest voice:

"Give way there, bullies! Don't sit dreaming! Bend your backs!"

As the boats flew back toward where the great bulk of the _Columbia_, her rails lined with eager pa.s.sengers, rested immobile on the surface of the ocean, the castaway captain turned a glance backward to the stern of his s.h.i.+p, which was still floating but settling and sinking fast. It was easy to guess what his thoughts were.

"That's one of the tragedies of the sea," thought Jack.

CHAPTER XXIX.

CAPTURED BY RADIO.

It was two days later and they were nearing Southampton, but the stop they had made to aid the _Oriana's_ crew had given the Britisher a big lead on them. The pa.s.sengers eagerly cl.u.s.tered to read Jack's wireless bulletin from the other s.h.i.+p which was posted every day. Excitement ran high.

Jack had seen no more of Professor Dusenberry, but he had spent a good deal of leisure time pondering over the code message the queer little dried up man had sent. Raynor, who had quite a genius for such things, and spent much time solving the puzzles in magazines and periodicals, helped him. But they did not make much progress.

Suddenly, however, the night before they were due to reach Southampton, Jack was sitting staring at the message when, without warning, as such things sometimes will, the real sense of the message leaped at him from the page.

"Meet me at _three_ on the paving _stones_, the weather is _fine_ but got no _specimens_, there is no _suspicion_ as you have _directed_ but I'm afraid _wrong_."

Taking every fourth word from the dispatch then, it read as follows:

"Three stones. Fine specimens. Suspicion directed wrong."

Jack sat staring like one bewitched as the amazingly simple cipher revealed itself in a flash after his hours of study. Granted he had struck the right solution, the message was illuminating enough.

Professor Dusenberry was a dangerous crook, instead of the harmless old "crank" the pa.s.sengers had taken him for, and his cipher message was to a confederate.

But on second thought Jack was inclined to believe that it was merely a coincidence that placing together every fourth word of the jumbled message made a dispatch having a perfectly understandable bearing on the jewel theft. It was impossible to believe that Professor Dusenberry, mild and self-effacing, could have had a hand in the attack on the diamond merchant. Jack was sorely perplexed.

He was still puzzling over the matter when the object of his thoughts appeared in his usual timid manner. He wished to send another dispatch, he said. While he wrote it out Jack studied the mild, almost benevolent features of the man known as Prof. Dusenberry.

"But there's one test," he thought to himself. "If the 'fourth word'

test applies to this dispatch also, the Professor is a criminal, of a dangerous type, in disguise. But he contrived to glance carelessly over the dispatch when the professor handed it to him and fumbled in his pocket for a wallet with which to pay for it. Not till the seemingly mild old man had shuffled out did Jack apply his test to it. The message read as follows:

"_Columbia_ fast as motor-boat, watch her in Southampton. Am well and will no more time throw away on fake life-preserver."

F.

With fingers that actually trembled, Jack wrote down every fourth word.

Here is the result he obtained:

"Motorboat Southampton. Will throw life-preserver."

"By the great horn-spoon," exclaimed Jack to himself, "it worked out like a charm. But still, what am I going to do? I can't go to the captain with no more evidence than this. He would not order the man detained. I have it!" he cried, after a moment of deep reflection. "The Southampton detectives have been already wirelessed about the crime and are going to board the s.h.i.+p. I'll flash them another message, telling them of the plan to drop the jewels overboard in a life-preserver so that they will float till the motor-boat picks them up."

Jack first, however, sent the supposed Prof. Dusenberry's message through to London, with which he was now in touch. He noted it was to the same address as before, that of a Mr. Jeremy Pottler, 38 South Totting Road, W. Then he summoned the Southampton station, and, before long, a messenger brought to the police authorities there a dispatch that caused a great deal of excitement. He had just finished doing this when Jack's attention was attracted by the re-entrance of the professor.

He wanted to look over the dispatch he had sent again, he said, but Jack noticed that his eyes, singularly keen behind his spectacles, swept the table swiftly as if in search of something. The abstract that Jack had made of the cipher dispatch lay in plain view. Jack hastily swept it out of sight by an apparently careless movement. But he felt the professor's eyes fixed on him keenly.

But if Prof. Dusenberry had observed anything he said nothing. He merely remarked that the dispatch appeared to be all right and walked out again in his peculiar shambling way.

"The old fox suspects something," thought Jack. "I wonder if he saw that little translation I took the liberty of making of his dispatch. If he did, he must have known that I smelled a rat."

Just then Raynor dropped in on his way on watch.

"Well, we're in to-morrow, Jack," he said, "but I'm afraid the Britisher will beat us out."

"I'm afraid so, too," responded Jack. "Their operator has been crowing over me all day. But at any rate it was in a good cause."

"Yes, and they're taking up a subscription for the s.h.i.+pwrecked men at the concert to-night, I hear, so that they won't land dest.i.tute."