CHAPTER XIII

HOPE IS "IN THE AIR"

Jack waked early the next morning and lay in his berth wondering drowsily for several moments as to what caused his feeling that there was something unusual in the situation. Then he jumped alertly to his feet and ran to the porthole.

The trawler was motionless. When he retired it had been tossed about by the storm. Now its engines were stilled, its screw was not turning, and except for a slight rolling motion it lay as calm as in a harbor. Could it be they had reached the smugglers' cove during the night? It was this alarming thought which sent Jack to the porthole.

But a look at the outer world convinced him to the contrary. There was no land in sight. And as he was on the landward side, he considered this a pretty good indication that they were not in port anywhere. Of course, the trawler might have swung about, so that her starboard side lay toward the land. He sniffed. There was no land smell in the salty air. He listened. No land sounds came to his ears.

Perhaps the trawler had broken down in the storm, perhaps something had happened to engines or screw. Jack had the natural curiosity of a young fellow in his 'teens and wished that he might go on deck and investigate. He thought of Matt Murphy's prohibition, of the Chinese crew thirsting for the blood of himself and his comrades.

But, after all, he reassured himself, if he merely poked his head up the companionway nobody would see him. He would be safe enough. And at the recollection of that clean sunshine flooding all the world outside, which he had seen through the porthole, and of the magically calmed sea, he decided he would have to obtain a glimpse of the world above decks, get a lungful of fresher air, no matter what happened.

All this time he had been hurriedly getting into his clothes. A look showed him Bob slept on. Unlocking the cabin door, he stepped soundlessly into the salon.

It was empty of human occupants other than himself. The door of the Temples' cabin was closed. "Black George's" cabin door was closed. So, too, was that of Matt Murphy. Jack gave fleeting thought to the question of how that worthy had survived the stress of the night. Was he still on deck? Or had he retired to rest? If the latter, who was in command?

"Certainly is a queer layout, anyhow," Jack mused. "Murphy and the doctor the only white men we have seen other than 'Black George.' Aren't there any officers? Are all others aboard Chinamen? Well, here goes."

And trying the handle of the outer door, and finding it turn soundlessly, he opened it inch by inch. The companionway was empty. A short flight of steps led to the deck. Mounting several, he found his head on a level with the deck and started to raise it cautiously to peer out.

The sound of low-voiced conversation came to his ears, and instinctively he bent down again. Listening a moment, he decided that he had not been seen, for the whispering went on. It came, he believed, from a point not far to the right, on the other side of the wooden bulwark of the companionway.

He held his breath, straining painfully. Whoever they were, they were speaking in English. Yet neither voice was that of Matt Murphy. Who could they be? He had to see.

Slowly, slowly, scarcely moving, yet edging forward all the time, Jack peered around the bulwark. Presently he saw them. They were two in number, and one was the little fat doctor who looked after "Black George." The other was a sodden-looking man of middle age, with a smudge of grease over one eye and his face generally dark with grime and coal dust. He was in his undershirt and carried a wrench in his right hand.

"We'll soon have her fixed now, Doc," this latter individual was saying, "nothing wrong but a couple of bolts shaken loose in the storm. Thought I'd better lay up and tighten things generally. That's all. Well, so long, I have to keep them Chinks moving or we'll never get the work finished."

The engineer, Jack correctly surmised. He started to move on. The fat little doctor laid a detaining hand on his arm, and glanced around nervously. Jack hastily withdrew his head, only to advance it again cautiously a moment later. The doctor's back was turned.

"Mr. MacFinney," he said to the engineer. "You don't know what's happening to your engines while you're away, do you?"

"Not with them Chinks around," said the other, laughing a little. "They don't know much about machinery."

"The Chinamen," said the doctor, darkly. "That's just it."

"What's the matter with you, Marley?" said MacFinney, thrusting his face closer to the other's. "Out with it, man. Have ye something on your mind? Or is it just the drink again?"

Doctor Marley drew his fat little form upright, as if to resent the rough remark. He was cursed with the habit of secret drinking, and it was on that account he had lost his practice and had fallen into the state of a creature to "Black George." But resentment did not last. He was frightened. The next moment he laid a trembling hand on MacFinney's arm.

"Mr. MacFinney," he said, low and hurried, "I'm afraid the Chinese may have put your engines out of commission, or may be doing it now while you are absent. You know our Chinese cook is a strange fellow, hates the others, or at any rate has little to do with them. And he said something----"

MacFinney started forward with an oath.

"If they're up to any monkeyshines, I'll fix 'em."

Doctor Marley ran after him, laying a hand on his arm.

"Oh, do be careful, Mr. MacFinney," he pleaded, all a-twitter with fear, as Jack could observe. "Please be careful. What--what would I do, if anything happened to you?"

MacFinney regarded him scornfully.

"So it's yourself you're thinking of. What might happen to me doesn't matter on my account. But you need me for protection, hey?"

"Oh, Mr. MacFinney. Oh. You mustn't think that. But it's those boys that Mr. Folwell brought aboard. They injured Wong Ho. I bound up his head before I left. And he's their leader, he's----"

"Yes, yes, I know," interrupted the engineer, impatiently. "But don't delay me. If what you suspect is true, and I wouldn't put it past them Chinks, it's high time I was gettin' below."

Jack waited to hear no more. He did not want to be discovered by Doctor Marley, if the latter chose to return at once. Retreating noiselessly down the companion, he re-entered the salon. It was just as he had left it. But when he opened the door of his cabin, he received a surprise.

Frank was at the porthole with his back turned and the headphones of Jack's ring-radio set clamped to his ears. Jack's thoughts flew at once to the ring, and he remembered having taken it off before retiring and placing it on a stand against the wall. He looked. It was not there. Obviously, Frank, on awaking, had noticed it and had been impelled to take the parts from Jack's bag and make an attempt to listen in on the ether.

On tiptoe Jack crossed the cabin and peered over Frank's shoulder. His chum had one arm through the porthole, clutching the extended umbrella. One wire led to the wire stem. Another wire dangled downward to the sea, although Jack could not, of course, observe more than the fact of its direction. Here were aerial and ground. Jack tapped his chum on the shoulder, but Frank, with serious face, frowned at him, and Jack interpreted the look to be a request for silence. Perhaps Frank was hearing something of moment. He stood to one side, waiting for Frank to speak.

Evidently his chum was straining hard to hear. He even closed his eyes, the better to concentrate. What could it be? Jack had news of his own to impart, important news, but in Frank's attitude he sensed something that bespoke importance too. Suddenly Frank opened his eyes.

"That's all," he said. "The conversation grew fainter and fainter. Now I can't hear at all any more."

"What was it? What did you hear?"

"Just two ships talking, Jack. That's all."

Frank smiled teasingly, as he folded the umbrella and pulled it back through the porthole, then laid off the headphones and began hauling in the ground wire.

"Just two ships, that's all. You don't mind my taking liberties with your toy, do you, Jack?"

"Of course not. But, look here, you heard something that excited you, Frank. Quit joshing. What was it?"

Frank turned a serious face, his eyes gleaming.

"Jack, the funniest thing. I heard two ships talking, or rather, only one ship talking to another. The replies of the second I couldn't hear at all."

"That ring-radio has a radius of about ten miles," said Jack. "Perhaps not quite that much. That accounts for it. You heard the ship that was within our radius, but not the other because it was too far away to be heard. But what was said? Business, I suppose?"

"Business, my eye," said Frank. "The one nearby was the U. S. Sub Chaser X-51. And as far as I could gather, it was talking to a coast liner bound north for San Francisco aboard which was Inspector Burton. He was asking the sub chaser to run alongside the liner and take him off. Remember, I could only hear what the sub chaser replied. I gathered from something said that the liner could not be so very far away. The sub chaser started for it, however, and as it drew away from us the radio got fainter and fainter until I lost it altogether."

"A sub chaser that close to us," said Jack, highly excited. "That decides me. We've got to act at once. Come on."

He seized Frank by an arm and propelled him toward the door.

"But here. Wait a minute. I'm not half dressed yet. What's the matter with you?"

"Jump into your clothes quick. Meantime I'll get hold of Mr. Temple and Bob and bring them back here. We have got to talk to that sub chaser and turn her this way."

"Talk to her?" said Frank, perplexed. "You must be crazy. With this little receiving set, I suppose."

"No, with the trawler's radio. But I'll explain when I return. Jump into your clothes."