LOOKING FOR THE BURNING YACHT.

“Mr. Jukes’ yacht!” repeated the young wireless lad. “And his son is on board, too!”

“What, you know him?”

“Yes, I met him when I was in the hospital after those firemen, or rather the lamp-post, gave me that crack on the head.”

“Great Scott! It’s a case of have to go now whether we want to or not,” exclaimed the captain. “Of course,” he added, “we would have gone anyhow, but still, under the present conditions, if another steamer had been handy, I’d have left the job to them. But Mr. Jukes’ yacht, that’s another pair of shoes!”

“Clang-g-g-g-g-g-g!”

The wireless alarm “rang in” with its sharp, insistent note. Jack bent again to his instruments. In a trice he had turned into a business-like young operator of the wireless waves.

“Maybe that’s some more from them,” exclaimed the captain, as Jack picked up his pencil.

“Hurry!” was what Jack wrote. “Owner states he will give a million to anyone who will come to his help. Good-bye. I’ve got to make a getaway.”

“Well, at any rate, that wireless chap on the Halcyon is a cheerful sort of cuss,” observed the captain. “I guess that will be all from him now. I’ll go forward and see about proceeding to their aid.”

But the captain’s plans were destined to be changed. For a time they moved steadily but slowly toward the location of the doomed yacht. By noon the sun was out and the sea dancing a vivid blue under a bright sun. There was a smart breeze, too, and, after considering all the conditions, Captain Braceworth summoned Mr. Brown.

“Mr. Brown,” said he, “take a boat and go about twenty miles to the sou’west. If that yacht’s boats are scattered about there, you should sight some of them. You should be back not long after eight bells of the dog-watch. I’ll have flares and rockets sent up so that you can find the ship easily.”

“Aye, aye, sir,” said Mr. Brown, with sailor-like directness, and hurried off to complete his preparations.

In the meantime, Jack and young Raynor had been having a consultation. The latter was by this time quite an efficient wireless man, and this just fitted in with Jack’s plan; for he was dying to go in that boat which was about to set out after the castaways!

“How would you like to take the wireless this afternoon?” he inquired of his chum.

“I can’t think of anything that would suit me better. Why?” was the rejoinder.

“Because I am going to apply for a chance to go in that boat, if you will do relief duty for me. You are not on watch this afternoon, and it will be great experience for you.”

“Aren’t you the little wheedler, though?” laughed Raynor. “All right, Jack, I’ll do it for you. Cut along, now, and see the skipper. You haven’t any time to waste.”

In five minutes Jack was back and radiant.

“He says he doesn’t know why I should go hunting for trouble,” he reported, “but he says I can go.”

“Well, that’s the main thing,” said Raynor cheerily, “and you’d better see Mr. Brown right away. There goes the boat.”

The craft was, in fact, being slung out on the davits when Jack approached the mate and told him that he was to form one of the party.

“Always digging up work for yourself,” grinned the mate.

“That’s what the captain said,” rejoined Jack demurely.

He took his place in the boat, and a few moments later the small craft was being rowed away from the big tanker’s side by six pairs of stout arms.

“Cheerily, men!” admonished Mr. Brown. “Remember it’s the owner we’re going after. It may mean a dollar or two in every man’s pocket if we hurry.”

This hint had the desired effect.

The men bent to the oars till the stout ash curved and the boat hissed through the water. They had not gone more than a mile before a lively breeze caused Mr. Brown to order the sail hoisted.

Naturally enough, nobody was averse to this, and soon, under the canvas, they were speeding over the dancing sea. In his pleasure at this agreeable break in the monotony of sea-life, Jack almost forgot the seriousness of the errand on which they were bent.

But Mr. Brown reminded him of it by observing, “I’m hoping we are not too late.”

This idea had not entered Jack’s head before. Too late!

What if they were too late, after all! That last message had broken off with suspicious abruptness, although Mr. Jukes must have been then aboard, because his offer of a million dollars to the unknown ship—Jack had not sent the name of the Ajax—was characteristic of him.

The bright afternoon seemed to cloud over as he thought of this. Stern and capricious as the magnate was, still, Jack, in his inner soul, admired his forcefulness and driving power; and as for Tom Jukes, he had formed a genuine liking for the frail lad.

He looked out over the sparkling sea. It was hard to believe that it might have witnessed a marine tragedy within the last few hours.