The Ocean Wireless Boys and the Lost Liner Part 19

At length they arose, shook hands as if they had come to an agreement on some matter, and parted. Jarrold came into the garden and took a seat at a table. He scowled heavily at the boys as he pa.s.sed them, but gave no other sign of recognition. Suddenly Jack rose to his feet.

"I'm a fine chump!" he exclaimed. "I ought to have brought my camera along. Hanged if I didn't forget it!"

"Why don't you go back to the s.h.i.+p for it?" asked Sam. "It's not very far. You can get there and back in twenty minutes or less if you drive."

"That part of it is all right. But I hate to leave His Nibs, there, unwatched."

"Oh, as for that, I'll take care of him till you get back," Sam promised.

"Bully for you! Then I'll go. And say--"

But at that moment a page came into the garden. He was calling for "Mr.

Ready."

"Means me, I guess," laughed Jack, "although it sounds new to be called 'Mr. Ready.' What do you want?" he asked, stopping the boy.

"You are Mr. Ready? All right then, there's a telephone message for you.

You're wanted back on the s.h.i.+p as soon as possible."

"That's a funny coincidence," murmured Jack; "just as I was ready to go, too."

As the page hurried off, Jack turned to Sam:

"I can't think what they can want me for; still, orders are orders. You stay here and watch His Nibs yonder, then, Sam, till I get back. If he goes anywhere, follow him, but don't take any chances. He's got no great love for either of us, I fancy."

"Well, I guess not, after the pummeling you gave him," laughed Sam.

Jack hurried off. Orders were orders, and although he could not imagine what he could be wanted for on board the _Tropic Queen_, he knew that it was his duty to obey at once. But, to his astonishment, when he reached the s.h.i.+p he found that there had been no message for him so far as anybody knew. All the s.h.i.+p's officers were ash.o.r.e and the s.h.i.+p deserted, except for the crew unloading the bulky cargo, while black stevedores sung and swore and steam winches rattled and roared to the accompaniment of the harsh screaming of the bos'n's pipe.

A good deal puzzled, Jack was retracing his steps to the hotel and the pleasant coolness of the garden, when he was suddenly accosted by a young man who stepped from around the corner of a building.

"h.e.l.lo there, Jack Ready! Well, if I'm not glad to see you!"

It was Ralph c.u.mmings, the operator whose place had been taken by Sam Smalley on Jack's recommendation.

CHAPTER XXIII

FALSE FRIENDs.h.i.+P

Jack had no great liking for c.u.mmings. In fact, at the time the latter lost his job on the _Tropic Queen_, he had left in a rage, swearing that he would "get even."

But now he held out his hand with a frank smile, or one that was intended to be frank but was not, for c.u.mmings hadn't that kind of a face. He was about Jack's age, with sandy hair, low, rather receding forehead and s.h.i.+fty, light eyes that had a habit of looking on the ground when he spoke.

"Well, well, Ready," he exclaimed. "It's good to see a face from home."

"Thanks," said Jack, "but if I recollect rightly you were not so crazy about seeing me again, the last time we met."

He instinctively distrusted this fellow. There was something a.s.sumed, something that did not ring true about his apparent heartiness.

"Oh, come now, Ready, here we are thousands of miles from home and you're still holding that old grudge against me! Shake hands, man, and forget it."

Jack began to feel rather ashamed of his brusqueness. After all, c.u.mmings might be more unfortunate in manner than intentionally unpleasant.

"That's all right, c.u.mmings," he said, extending his hand. "I'm glad to see you, too. Here on a s.h.i.+p?"

"Yes, a small one, though. Not a liner like the _Tropic Queen_, but it was the best I could get."

Jack felt a twinge of remorse. c.u.mmings said this uncomplainingly and yet with an emphasis that made Jack feel uncomfortable. The man was incompetent, it was true, but still, Jack almost began to think that he ought to have given him another chance.

"When did you get in?" pursued c.u.mmings.

"This morning. We'll lie here two days, I guess. We've got a big cargo."

"Is that so? Well, I hope we'll see a lot of each other."

"I hope so, too," said Jack, without, however, very much cordiality.

"Well, come and have a drink before you go," suggested c.u.mmings.

"Thanks, but I never drink. I think it would be better for you, too, c.u.mmings, if you did not touch liquor."

"Oh, I didn't mean that. I wanted you to try some cola. It's a native drink. They make it here. It's very cool and nice."

Jack had been walking fast and was hot. The idea appealed to his thirsty, dust-filled throat.

"All right, c.u.mmings. Where do you go?" he said.

"Down here. We could get it at a soda fountain in the drug store yonder; but it's better in the native quarter right down this street."

He motioned down the side street from which he had emerged when Jack encountered him.

"All right; but I can't stay long. I've got a friend waiting for me."

"That's all right," c.u.mmings a.s.sured him. "It's not more than a block and you can take a short cut back to the hotel to save time."

They walked down a curious narrow street with high-walled gardens on either side. Over the tops of the walls, in some places, great creepers straggled, spangled with gorgeous red and purple flowers. In other spots, drooping above the walls could be seen the giant fronds of banana plants, or tenuous palm tree tops.

c.u.mmings stopped in front of a plaster house, badly cracked by the earthquake.

"Right in here," he said.

Jack followed him into the dark, cool interior. After the blinding glare of the sun outside, it was hard at first to make out the surroundings.

But Jack's eyes soon became accustomed to the gloom, and he saw that they were in a small room with a polished floor and that two or three chairs and tables were scattered about.