  When Charlie had gone, Bill glanced at his wrist watch. It was just ten minutes to nine. With a sigh of satisfaction, he picked up his cap. Then, snapping off the electrics in the bathroom and the cabin, he, too, went out. It had been impossible for him to make preparations for this venture of his since its inception at the beginning of the week. As he went out on deck and forward toward the bridge, he could hardly believe that no longer ago than Monday morning, he had been flying his amphibian north to New York, with Osceola as passenger. Then had come the Merrymaid, and capture by these pirates, their flying submarine and the raider, this huge liner whose decks he was walking. That afternoon had come the Orleans affair; in the evening the collier Blake had been taken. Tonight, only Thursday. After the monotony of three days’ coaling, the adventures of Monday seemed far away, except when he stopped to realize that ever since then he had had no leisure whatsoever to develop his plan. “Good evening, sir.” The guard at the foot of the stair that led to the bridge saluted, and Bill came back to the actual present with a start. “Good evening, Schmidt.” He returned the man’s salute, and recognized him as one of his derrick’s crew. “You look so spick and span I didn’t know you at first glance.” “Thank you, sir.” Schmidt smiled, keeping his rifle at present. “And I feel a good bit more comfortable this way, sir. Coaling is filthy work, Lieutenant.” “Nothing dirtier.” Bill nodded and passed on up the stairs. Above he found Lieutenant Schneider pacing slowly up and down. “Good evening,” said Bill. “Mind if I join you for a few minutes?” “I shall be honored, Herr Lieutenant,” returned the officer. “An unlooked-for pleasure. A beautiful night, is it not? But I surmised that like the rest of the mess you turned in directly after dinner.” “I admit I’m tired,” Bill went on chattily, “quite as tired as the other chaps, after the grind of the last few days. Chief Osceola was completely done up. Had his dinner in bed, and I found him sound asleep when I went below.” “Don’t speak of bed,” grumbled the officer. “I wish I were there now. It is just my luck to be on duty tonight.” “I found the cabin hot and stuffy, so I thought I’d come up for a breath of air before turning in. Heading more to northward, since we sank the Blake, I see.” “Yes, the course is nor’nor’east now. Captain von Hiemskirk is heading the ship for the transatlantic passenger ship lane.” “We don’t seem to be in any hurry, Lieutenant.” “No, our speed is only sixteen knots. Everybody needs a rest, and the Herr Baron, being a wise man, is saving coal.” “It sounds foolish of me, a ship’s officer, to admit it, but I honestly have only the haziest idea of our position now.” “I don’t wonder at that,” laughed Schneider. “The way we changed our course during the past week would make a snake break its back. At noon today we were in latitude 38 degrees north, longitude 62 degrees west—and we aren’t far from there now at the rate we’ve been steaming.” “Mm—I thought we were much farther east,” remarked Bill, and then changed the subject. As he had now gained the information he wanted, he chatted for ten minutes more with young Schneider, then, wishing him good night, went below to his cabin. Here he set the tiny alarm on his watch for twelve-thirty. From the closet, he brought forth a civilian suit of his own, and one of Osceola’s. These, together with two pairs of tennis shoes and two soft felt hats that he found in their bags, he placed on the lounge. Again he dug into the bottom of a kit bag and pulled forth a coil of rope, two monkey wrenches and a flashlight. Placing these conveniently near the clothing, he began to undress. Osceola still slept the sleep of exhaustion. Without awaking him, Bill crept into his bed and turned off the light. It seemed but a moment or two later, though in reality three hours had crept away, when the tinkle of his alarm bell brought Bill back to a sleepy realization of the job before him. He switched off the alarm and sat up in bed. Osceola’s voice cut the throbbing drone of the ship’s machinery. “What’s the big idea?” “Time to get on the job,” Bill murmured in a low tone. “Had you forgotten it? Don’t turn on the light.” “No, I hadn’t forgotten. You said something about working out a plan of yours tonight. But can’t we put it off for twenty-four hours? I’m bleary-eyed, I’m so tired.” Bill got out of bed. “So is everybody else aboard this packet. And that’s why we’re pulling it off tonight.” He tossed Osceola’s clothes on to the chief’s bed. “Here’s an old suit of yours—get into it.” “Oh, if you say so—” yawned his friend. “What are we going to do with those wrenches? Crack the Baron’s safe?” “What a pair of eyes you’ve got! I’d forgotten you could see in the dark. No, you big galoot, this is not robbery you’re in for now. We’re going to tie up the wireless operator. I want to do some broadcasting on my own.” “So that’s the way the wind blows!” Osceola, fully awake now, was pulling on his trousers. “I have to hand it to you, boy, when it comes to action—you act!” “Come on—I know it’s risky business, but if we’re ever going to break up this nest of pirates, we’ve got to have help.” “You’re going to wire our position to that cruiser who was on our trail Monday?” “And to whomever else it may concern—yes, that’s the idea!” Osceola grunted. “And what is the Herr Baron going to be doing to us while the cruiser is trying to catch us?” “Not a blooming thing, if the wireless man doesn’t spot who we are. I’ve got a couple of handkerchiefs cut with slits for eyeholes. We can drape them over our lovely features just like real thugs, when we get on deck!” “Swell!” responded his companion. “Gimme one of those wrenches. I’m all set if you are.” Bill glanced at the luminous dial of his watch. “We’ll give him three minutes.” “Give who three minutes?” “Charlie’s coming with us.” “What? Not that crazy kid! He’s sure to gum the show.” “No, he won’t. And we need a lookout, Osceola. The youngster worked like a hero, getting dope about the wireless routine. I know it’s a responsibility to let him take the risk—but the chap was so keen on being in at the death—I simply hadn’t the heart to refuse him.” “Well, so long as this is your party, I’ll say no more about dragging Charlie into it. But I’d hate to be you if his mother finds out what you’ve let him in for.” A crack of light appeared under the door, and Charlie opened it, slipped inside and closed the door behind him. “Here I am,” he whispered. “Not really,” Osceola whispered back, “why, I thought it was Christmas Eve and Santa Claus had come to fill my stocking!” “Try the other side of your bed when you get up next time, Chief,” Charlie snickered. “Why the grouch? Don’t lose your nerve. If anybody tries to hurt you, I’ll put salt on his tail.” Osceola laughed good-humoredly. “You young scamp, if you don’t cut the comedy and do what you’re told tonight, you’ll think you’ve had salt rubbed on yours, along with the hiding you’ll get from me.” “Thar she blows! thar she blows!” teased Charlie. “What a whale of a guy you are, Chief!” “Pipe down—both of you!” commanded Bill. “You make more noise than an old maid’s tea party. What do you want to do—wake up the ship?” “Well, let’s shove off then,” said Charlie in a lower tone, and started for the door. Bill caught his arm. “Not that way,” he warned. “The ports to this cabin are regular windows, and we’re going out through them. There’s less chance of being seen.” “Shall I lock the door?” asked Osceola. “No. If we’re able to pull this off, it will be a case of speed in getting back here. The door may be handier then. Come on—mum’s the word. I’ll go first—” He stepped onto the window seat. A moment later he was through the broad porthole, and out on deck. Not a soul was in sight. A nod to Osceola brought the Chief to his side and they waited until Charlie reached the deck. With Bill in the lead, they walked swiftly forward until they came to the open stair leading up to the boat deck. Motioning caution, Bill went silently up the rubber-coated treads with the others close behind. He knew that once above, they would be in plain sight of the bridge. Therefore, before reaching the stairhead, he dropped to his knees and crawled up to the deck level, careful to keep his head below the skyline. Then, turning back to Charlie, he drew the boy’s head close to his lips. “I want you to stay here!” he whispered. “If anyone comes off the bridge and makes for this stair, run down to the deck below and get out of his way. When he’s gone, come back here. If anyone comes up the stair, crawl into the shadow of that lifeboat. If you see anybody at all going toward the wireless house, whistle twice and beat it back to your cabin, no matter what occurs. Got it clear, now?” Charlie, tense with excitement and proud of the responsibility given him, nodded mutely. Then he moved to one side while Osceola slipped past him, to lie beside Bill. Diagonally across the deck from the stairhead aft of the ship’s second funnel was a small superstructure, the little wireless house. Light shone through the open window at the forward end of the structure. Charlie, who had never seen an Indian travel over an open space when the red man didn’t wish to be seen, was surprised to see Bill and Osceola move forward flat on their stomachs. With the sinuous, wriggling motion of snakes, the two slid across the starlit deck. In a few moments he lost sight of them in the shadow of the ship’s great funnel. “Gee,” he thought. “That sure is some stunt. Some day I’ve got to get one of those guys to show me how they do it.” In the obscurity of deep shadow, the two plotters got to their feet and adjusted their masks. “Can you see all right?” whispered Bill. “I wasn’t sure about the eyeholes.” “I can see. What next?” “Get that lad in the wireless house from the window. I’ll take the door.” “Okay. Good luck!” “Good luck to you. I’ll wait until I hear you speak.” “I get you.” Keeping always within the shadow cast by the big stack, and careful to avoid the broad ray of light from the open window, Osceola glided swiftly toward his goal. The blond young man who sat at the open window, dozing, with a magazine in his lap, awoke with a start. “Stick up your hands and keep them there!” muttered a low voice. Just outside the window, the dazed operator saw a white-faced blur in the darkness. The grim figure behind the mask held a black object pointed directly at his head. Like most North Germans, the wireless expert was a sensible young man. He held up his hands. |
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