CHAPTER XIII.
AN IMPORTANT TELEGRAM.
“Hyah’s a telegram fo’ you, sah. De boy says no answer.”
Jupe handed Mr. Chadwick the yellow missive just at the conclusion of breakfast at High Towers, the morning after the trial trip of the White Shark.
The boys watched curiously as he opened the envelope. Telegrams were no uncommon things at High Towers. Anxious manufacturers and inventors in quandaries of various kinds were in the habit of summoning Mr. Chadwick, post haste, to solve their mechanical problems.
But in the present instance Jack felt a conviction that this telegram was of unusual import. His conviction became a certainty a minute later when Mr. Chadwick uttered an exclamation.
“Jack,” he said, turning to his son, “I want you to look up the next ship sailing for Cuba. You will find a list in the shipping column of the morning papers.”
“All right, dad. Come on, Tom,” said Jack, rising from the table and hurrying to the library.
“What’s in the wind now?” he said excitedly, as they sped along a passage.
“You mean about Cuba?”
“Of course. Wonder why the governor wants to know about a vessel for that island.”
“He wants to go there, I suppose,” rejoined the practical Tom.
“I don’t see what could take him there, except that iron mining property he bought recently, not far from Santiago.”
“Well, whatever it is, it’s something urgent. I saw his color change when he read that wire, and anyway, a telegram always means a rush order somewhere.”
By this time they were in the library, and turning to the shipping columns of the papers.
“Nothing for Cuba for a week,” declared Jack after a prolonged scrutiny of the sailing list. “Well, that settles—— Whew! Tom, maybe this sheds some light on the subject.”
He pointed to a glaring headline on the opposite page:
“AMERICANS IN DANGER IN CUBA. REVOLUTION IN SONORA PROVINCE.”
“‘Sonora Province,’ why that’s where dad’s mine is located,” rushed on Jack breathlessly. “Depend upon it, that’s what’s up.”
“Gee whiz! Don’t I wish we could go there!” breathed Tom as they sped back to the dining room.
“Nothing sailing for Cuba for a week, dad,” Jack announced. “Did you see about the trouble in Sonora Province?” he went on with an artless glance.
Mr. Chadwick laughed.
“I knew you were dying to know what was in this telegram,” he said, “and you have certainly adopted a clever way of eliciting that information. I suppose you read of the revolution in the papers?”
Jack nodded.
“They say that property down there is in danger,—lives, too.”
“You might have placed the lives first, my boy. But apparently the papers are right. Here is the source of my information. Read it out aloud.”
He handed the telegram to Jack, who took it and read for his cousin’s benefit:
“Revolution started here. Rebels strong. No troops at hand. The mine in risky position. Come at once if possible. Native helpers and workmen fled.
Jameson.”
“Jameson is my superintendent at the mine,” explained Mr. Chadwick. “We have been experimenting with a new method of smelting the ore on the spot. Hitherto all Cuban ore has had to be shipped to this country for refinement. We save by using my processes and doing it at the mine.”
“And all that machinery is installed there?” asked Jack.
“Yes; it is worth considerable, too. Of course Jameson may be exaggerating the danger, but as he is a long-headed sort of Scotchman, I hardly think so. I ought to be there as quickly as possible.”
“How long does it take to get there?” inquired Jack.
“Five days from New York. There are no fast craft running on that line. Twelve knots is about the best they can do.”
“Then, with no steamer sailing for a week, it would be almost a fortnight before you could get there?”
“Yes; and the Sea King is being refitted with new boilers.”
The Sea King was Mr. Chadwick’s yacht. She has already figured in one portion of the boys’ adventures, namely, those related in “The Boy Inventors’ Wireless Triumph.”
“Too bad; the Sea King would have made the trip in no time. Isn’t there some other way?”
“I might charter a yacht; but it is a long job sometimes to find one that suits and is ready to start at once.”
“A small craft wouldn’t do?” asked Tom.
“No. It’s coming on to the hurricane season down in those waters. In case of bad weather no small craft could ride such seas.”
Jack had been knitting his brow. Suddenly his expression cleared.
“No small craft could ride them,” he echoed; “but,” and he threw deep emphasis into his voice, “I know of a small craft that could weather any sort of hurricane.”
“I confess I don’t understand you, my boy,” rejoined his father, knitting his brows.
“The sort of vessel I’m thinking of wouldn’t stay on top at all,” replied Jack; “it would sink to a safe depth out of the hurly-burly, so to speak, and stay there till the storm blew over.”
“You mean the White Shark?” asked his father. “Jove! that is an idea.”
“I wasn’t sure that you’d think it a practicable one,” rejoined Jack, “but I don’t see why it shouldn’t be entirely feasible.”
“This looks like the trip we were talking about last night, the one Mr. Dancer said he’d like to take.”
“I wonder if he would charter the White Shark for such a voyage,” said Mr. Chadwick thoughtfully.
“I’m sure he would,” rushed on Jack eagerly. “I know he hasn’t got much money. The building of the White Shark has made him a poor man.”
“I could offer him a good figure. Such a voyage would be worth it,” continued Mr. Chadwick. “Besides, I would like to help out a brother inventor in difficulties.”
The latter part of this speech was characteristic of Mr. Chadwick. Unknown even to his closest friends, his hand was often in his pocket for needy investigators in the field of science. Although the public does not know it, it was his liberality in this regard that gave to the world the Chalmers Patent Steel Refining Process, the Walworth Tubular Boiler and half a dozen other almost epoch-making inventions.
“Tell you what,” cried Jack, “we’ll take the car and spin over and see him about it.”
Tom skipped about, hardly able to contain his joy.
“A trip to Cuba under the sea, and revolutionists and—and, oh, everything that’s jolly.”
“Nothing very jolly about a revolution,” rejoined Mr. Chadwick, somewhat grimly, “they’re no fun, I can tell you. But, seriously speaking, I think your suggestion a good one, Jack. We could live on board the White Shark in case of serious fighting ashore, and such a craft would afford a far swifter means of reaching Cuba than any steamer.”
It was half an hour later that two excited boys and a graver, more thoughtful senior, were discussing the proposal with Mr. Dancer. Mr. Chadwick’s liberal offer for the use of the White Shark for his proposed trip had almost literally taken Mr. Dancer off his feet.
“I hardly know how to thank you, Chadwick. It’s a great chance, a great chance,” he exclaimed, “but it is too much, really——”
“I shall feel offended if you won’t consent to take us,” put in Mr. Chadwick.
“That’s not the difficulty,” said Mr. Dancer quickly. “I want to make the voyage. It will give the White Shark a testing out that will try her every rivet. But there may be danger. Your young folks here——”
Jack and Tom exchanged anxious glances. Perhaps, after all, the plans that had looked so rosy were to fall through.
“I haven’t the slightest doubt after what I have seen of her that the White Shark can survive any test that may be placed upon her. The fact that I am willing to take my lads along should prove my faith in your craft.”
“Thank you, Chadwick,” said the inventor with grateful eyes, “then the last objection on my part is removed. But when I have sold my craft to some government—I hope to Uncle Sam’s—I must repay you——”
Mr. Chadwick waved his hand as if brushing aside the idea.
“You have repaid me far more than I can ever give you by affording me such an opportunity, Dancer,” he said earnestly.
“So then it’s all settled,” cried Tom with shining eyes.
Moved by a common impulse the boys, glowing with excitement, clasped hands and a wild war dance took place.
As they paused, out of breath from their exertions, Mr. Chadwick, in business-like tones, asked:
“When can you be ready to sail?”
“By midnight,” said the inventor after a rapid mental calculation.
“Then you boys had better stop capering about and get busy on making a list of all we shall need. Then you can go to town to purchase the necessary articles.”
“Will we get busy?” cried Jack, sitting down at the desk and drawing up a sheet of paper and poising a pen above it:
“First article, please.”
After that the provisioning and stocking of the White Shark for what was to prove a long and adventurous period, went forward rapidly. After lunch the boys in their red runabout set out for Camwell, a suburb of Boston, where they were sure to be able to purchase everything necessary.