The Brighton Boys in the Radio Service

And so they responded early to a summons from the superior officer in charge of men in the Signal Corps at that station. By him they were informed of the serious mission upon which they were bound, and of the responsibilities that would fall upon them should the transport, by any mishap, become separated from its armed convoy.

No message picked up at sea or elsewhere, he told them, was to be repeated to anyone but the superior officer to whom it was directed; and any calls for another vessel or station were to be ignored by them, even if their aerial should pick the words up.

They were told of the fine loyalty demanded of men in their branch of the service, and given some idea of the sacrifices they might be called upon to make.

"The success of this war," said Major Briggs, "depends upon the courage and ability with which each man in it performs the immediate task before him. Whether the whole world shall fall under the iron hand of a merciless tyranny, or the peoples of the various nations may govern themselves in the freedom of democracy, now depends largely upon the men of the United States. We must regard the responsibilities thrust upon us as a glorious opportunity to serve all of mankind."

Thrilled with the nature of the great work ahead of them, Joe, Jerry and Slim hurried down the long length of the navy yard to where the Everett lay moored to her slip, the center of much activity.

Steam already was up, as they could see from the thick black clouds of smoke that curled upward from her smokestack. Big cranes, operated by powerful winches on the vessel and on shore, were hoisting cases of various sizes and shapes upon the lower decks and into the hold. A small army of men helped complete the loading of the ship, and one group was experiencing considerable difficulty in trying to persuade unwilling mules to board the transport for Europe.

The boys hurdled over piles of food and ammunition, wended their way through scores of stacks of ordnance, and finally over a gang-plank to the vessel. There they saluted and reported to the officer of the day, who directed them to go at once to the wireless room.

As they entered there Lieutenant Mackinson was busily engaged in "tuning up" his instruments. He stopped when he saw them and reached into an inner pocket, from which he produced three large oblong envelopes. One was addressed to each lad, and as they accepted them they saw that each was closed to prying eyes by the official seal of Uncle Sam.

Swept by various emotions, the boys stood there gazing first at the envelopes and then at Lieutenant Mackinson.

"Well," said the lieutenant at last, with an amused smile, "do you want me to retire while you read your communications?"

"Oh, no, not at all, sir," Joe hastened to say, and as if to prove the statement all three envelopes were ripped open and the single sheet of paper in each drawn forth.

Especially addressed to each lad, the letters were identical and read:

The letters were signed by the commandant of the Philadelphia Navy Yard.

"Look at that," said Slim, pushing his letter at Lieutenant Mackinson, utterly forgetful of the fact that the other man was his superior officer. "Ain't—isn't that fine, though? For the commandant to mention it that way, I mean."

"Yes," admitted Lieutenant Mackinson, "but he wouldn't have mentioned it that way if you hadn't deserved it."

"I'm not going to lose that letter," announced Jerry.

"Nor I," added Joe, "although we only did what any other fellows would have done under the same circumstances."

"Well," said Lieutenant Mackinson, "it showed that you were to be depended upon in an emergency, and emergencies are likely to crop up at any time in our work, so let's get down to business."

He immediately began explaining the apparatus of the wireless room—how messages were sent and received; the power of the batteries and their auxiliaries; the switch-board regulating voltage; the automatic recording apparatus—in fact, every detail connected with the intricate mechanism of an up-to-date wireless.

"There was a time," explained Lieutenant Mackinson, "when the sending of a message almost deafened the sender. It was like being in the midst of a machine-gun assault. But recent improvements have eliminated that. You may see for yourselves."

And the lieutenant tapped off the Everett's own signal call with little more sound than is made by the sending of a message with the ordinary telegraph instrument.

"We have a sending and receiving radius of from five hundred to eight hundred miles," Lieutenant Mackinson continued. "Of course, it doesn't compare with the great wireless station at Radio, Virginia, one of the largest in the world, where one tower is six hundred feet high and the other four hundred and fifty feet in height, and each charged with two hundred thousand volts, giving a radius of three thousand miles; but it is sufficiently powerful for practically every purpose required at sea."

"Wasn't Marconi a wonderful man?" said Jerry in true admiration.

"Yes, he was; no doubt of that, and he still may contribute much to the science, for he is not old yet," the young lieutenant answered. "But still, full credit must be given where credit is due, and in that respect it must be acknowledged that Marconi only assembled and perfected to practicable purposes the discoveries and inventions made before his time.

"Radio-telegraphy might be briefly traced in the names of Faraday, Maxwell, Hertz—the discoverer of the Hertzian rays—Righi, Lodge and Marconi. All of them contributed something to the evolvement of the present highly efficient and dependable wireless. Marconi should, and does, receive great credit; but the others, the pioneers, the real discoverers, should not be forgotten or overlooked."

The lieutenant's words threw a new light on the history of the wireless for the boys from Brighton, and they were anxious that the officer should tell them more; but at that moment Lieutenant Mackinson caught the faint recording of a distant wireless call for another station, far down the Atlantic coast.

"Here," he said hastily, turning to Joe, who was nearest him, "see if you can catch this message."

He slipped the receiving apparatus over Joe's head, and tightened up the ear-pieces, then pushed toward him a pad and pencil.

Into Joe's ears came the faint but distinct sounds of a distant call:

-· ··· -· ··· -· ···

"N S," Joe jotted down on the sheet before him.

"A ship at sea calling Newport News," Lieutenant Mackinson informed the other two, who waited impatiently for Joe to begin recording the message.

Newport News acknowledged the call, and then the vessel's wireless continued:

·--- ·- ··· ·--· · ·-·

And Joe, transcribing, wrote: "JASPER." Following this came:

-·· · - ·- ·· ·-··

The other boys looked on in chagrin, while Lieutenant Mackinson's countenance took on an amused smile, as Joe wrote down the word "DETAIL," and then nothing else but the initials "N. N.," which ended the message.

"Don't make sense," announced Slim in a discouraged voice. "You must have missed part of it."

"No, I didn't," Joe replied, looking anxiously toward the lieutenant.

"I guess he got it all," the young officer assured them, at the same time unlocking a little closet and taking a leather-bound book from an upper shelf. "Let's see."

He turned to the J's and ran his finger down the page until he came to the word "JASPER."

"That means 'We have coaled,'" he said, writing the words out on the pad.

"Oh, it's in code," said Slim apologetically; "I didn't know that."

"DETAIL," the lieutenant announced, finding that word. "'Understand and am following sealed orders'. That's the North Dakota. She has coaled at sea and is now starting upon some mission known only to her commander and the naval authorities."

Almost as he finished speaking the Everett gave a lurch, her whistle was tooted two or three times, the engines started turning, and the big boat began to vibrate under the pressure.

There was a shout from the thousand or more who had crowded to the river's edge, responded to by the fifteen hundred khaki-clad young men who were lined up at every point of vantage along the vessel's side.

"And we're off, too," shouted Lieutenant Mackinson.

"Hurrah!" cried the three boys from Brighton in the same breath, as they double-quicked it behind the lieutenant to the upper deck.

The scene was one to inspire the most miserable slacker. Somewhere in the upper part of the yard a band was playing Sousa's "Stars and Stripes Forever." From the windows of the ordnance and other buildings at the lower end of the yard workmen hung forth, waving hats and handkerchiefs, and joining in the shouted well-wishes of those along the shore. The crews of every fighting craft in that part of the river sang out friendly advice to those aboard the transport, and two miles down the channel could be discerned the smoke from the stacks of the armed convoys that were to give the Everett safe passage to her destination.

Among those at the water's edge the boys could discern the big form of Sergeant Martin, and even as distance welded them in an indistinguishable mass, they could still see him, towering above the others, his hat describing wide circles through the air.

"So long, fellows; we'll meet you over there," shouted the men of the last vessel they passed.

As though by prearrangement the fifteen hundred men on the Everett began singing, "I'm Going Over," sang it to the end of the first verse, then stopped, and from a point well down the river could hear those they had passed taking up the second stanza.

Hours later, out upon the ocean, the dim lights ashore fading one by one, the fighters for Uncle Sam gave one last, long, lingering look at their native land. And Jerry, voicing the spirit of all, cried out:

"Farewell, United States."

"There's a heavy sea running," explained Joe; "that's what makes the Everett ride so roughly."

"Wish I was back at Brighton," Slim groaned dismally.

Two hardy youths strolling along the deck, who hadn't been touched by the epidemic of seasickness, stopped to peer in at the porthole. They had mischief in their eyes, and as they caught sight of Slim's humorously pathetic countenance, one of them muttered in a low but distinct voice: "How'd you like to have some fried sausage, and some plum pudding, and some——"

"Shut up!" bawled out Jerry with what strength he had left.

With a loud laugh the two withdrew their heads and disappeared.

At that moment the ship's physician, accompanied by Lieutenant Mackinson, arrived to give what further comfort he could to the seasick lads.

"It is clearing," the lieutenant told them, while the doctor measured out a powder for each boy. "The wind has died down and the sea is becoming calm."

"Oh, yes," the physician added, "in an hour or so you will be feeling better than you did before. Seasickness has a tonic effect, but it's rather a bitter dose."

"Sure is," said Slim weakly.

Nevertheless, it was just about an hour later that Jerry, feeling his nausea leave him almost as suddenly as it had appeared, raised himself on one elbow and looked across at his companion in misery.

"How do you feel, Slim?" he inquired.

"Almost human again," the stout lad replied.

"Going to get up?"

"Guess I can in a few minutes."

"I'm going to try it now," said Jerry. "Seems as if the pilot of this ferry had learned to steer her a whole lot better than he did earlier in the day."

"Yep," agreed Slim, sliding from his bunk. "Certainly was tough, wasn't it?"

"I feel sort of weak in the legs yet," said Jerry, by way of answer. "Let's go up on deck and get some fresh air."

"Stomach feels as empty as a vacant house; how's yours?" Slim inquired.

"Nothing in it but the lining, and I guess most of that's pried loose. We've got to wait more than two hours for mess, too."

"How about some fried sausage, and some plum pudding, and some——"

Jerry laughed for the first time that day. "That fellow certainly did make me mad," he admitted.

"Yeh, he made you mad," said Slim in a remorseful tone, "but he made me sick."

On deck a hundred or more vigorous young men were exercising their muscles in various forms of athletic sport. Here a group crowded around a contest in broad jumping, eagerly echoing the distances made, and there the men of another throng loudly applauded their favorites in a stiff boxing bout, while on another part of the deck a pair of one-hundred-and-eighty-pound huskies were struggling in a friendly wrestling match.

A bright sun shone upon a sparkling sea, and the air was just crisp enough to be invigorating. At that moment Joe came up to inquire how his two chums felt.

"Fine," declared Jerry.

"Like a two-year-old," added Slim. "That doctor was telling the truth. I believe I never felt better in my life," and he began flapping his arms up and down like a rooster flails the air with its wings.

"A fat man's race three times around the ship!" a youth yelled, spying Slim's activities.

"Hurrah!" cried the crowd. "Get them started."

The jumpers, the wrestlers, and the boxers immediately suspended their respective contests to enjoy the innovation.

Slim was trying to back away, protesting that he "couldn't run for a cent," when a familiar, smiling countenance intruded itself in the circle of good-natured faces with the suggestion: "Well, how about a plum pudding, then?"

Slim and Jerry at once recognized him as the youth who had similarly suggested a plum pudding, also sausage, at a most inopportune time.

"Have you got one?" Slim demanded, his spirit aroused.

"Sure have," announced the other, "and I'll make it the stake."

Another shout went up as a second group pushed before Slim another youth who, so far as size, shape and avoirdupois was concerned, might have been his twin brother. They looked at each other and both burst into a hearty laugh.

"Hello, Skinny," said the stranger.

"Howdy, Delicate?" Slim came back at him, quick as a flash. "Want to race?"

"Don't particularly want to race," responded the other lad, "but I'm awfully fond of plum pudding."

"And sausage?"

"Is there going to be a sausage in it, too?" asked the stranger, evidencing increasing interest.

"Only yourself," Slim announced, laughing and jumping back quickly to avoid any belligerency his joke might inspire in the other.

But he took the joke as good-naturedly as he did the howls of delight from the crowd, and the two peeled off their coats and discarded their hats as a couple of youths marked off the starting and finishing line, while others "cleared the deck for action."

"This will be the tape," said a tall lean fellow, as he tied one end of a string to the rail, at a point just above the starting line. "After you have passed here the second time we'll stretch this out, and the first one to touch it will be the winner."

"Right," said the fat boys together, leaning over in true sprinter fashion so far as their stomachs would permit them to stoop.

One of the one-hundred-and-eighty-pound wrestlers winked to his comrades and hurried down into the lower part of the ship on some mysterious errand.

"One, two, three—Go!" shouted the self-constituted referee.

And Slim and Delicate went! True, neither of them got what sportsmen would call "a flying start," but they got away, nevertheless, and with all the grace and speed of—two loaded hay wagons.

"Whoopee!" yelled one in the crowd. "Look at 'em go! You can't see 'em for dust!"

"Two dollars on the knock-kneed guy," shouted another.

Slim turned his head for the fraction of a second to learn whether this insult had been directed at him, and his opponent gained a lead of a foot.

"Go it, you deerhounds," shrilled an Irish tenor in the crowd. "Work your feet, not your arms."

"The elephant leads; come on, you whale!" shouted another.

By this time the runners had made the curve at the bow of the boat and were coming up the starboard side, toward the stern.

On the nearest armed convoy an officer was taking in the contest through a pair of marine glasses, and apparently enjoying it immensely.

"Hooray! Hooray!" yelled the crowd of onlookers as Slim spurted and the pair rounded the stern and came down to the tape at the end of their first lap, neck and neck. Both were puffing like porpoises.

"Hey, Sausage, you've got a flat tire," cried a youth as they passed.

And from another: "Your engine's knocking, Skinny. Reduce your spark."

So the good-natured raillery continued while the two fat boys drove doggedly on, now at considerably reduced speed, but still side by side, each determined to capture that plum pudding.

They had passed the tape a second time, snorting louder and in shorter gasps than before, and with the biting repartee still assailing their ears, when the man who had disappeared into the hold of the ship came into sight again, carrying a large can.

"Quick!" he warned those about him. "Right here—before they see."

And he proceeded to divulge the contents of the can as a heavy grease, almost the color of the deck, which he began to smear heavily thereon over the entire surface that the runners would have to cover, from a distance fifteen feet away from the tape.

"They're on their way," whispered a voice, and the crowd parted to give the two the proper space in which to finish the race. There was an air of great expectancy among the onlookers.

The lads were still struggling along neck and neck, but Slim's leg work was so timed as to make him the first to strike the grease. He slid, tried to regain his balance, skidded into his competitor, who also was floundering for a foothold, and then, progressing to a spot where the grease was thicker, both feet went out from under him and he went down, kicking Delicate's foundations from under him, also.

The crowd yelled with laughter, and the breath went out of poor Slim with a terrible snort, as Delicate came down squarely upon Slim's stomach. And thus, the most ludicrous sight imaginable, they went sliding under the tape.

"All bets are off," shouted the other man who had been boxing; "they broke before the finish."

Side by side, too breathless to articulate, the two fat youths lay there gasping for breath, while those gathered about them made mock gestures of "first aid to the injured." Nobody had been hurt, however, and the victims of the prank took it in the way it had been intended.

Delicate, whose real name was Remington Bowman, proved to be as good a sportsman as Slim, and they went down the deck arm in arm when the mess call was sounded. And it was evidence of the good fellowship of the owner of the plum pudding that he did share it with both of them directly after the meal was over.

"You fellows earned it," he said. And they agreed that they had.

That evening it was Joe's turn to do watch in the wireless room with Lieutenant Mackinson until eleven o'clock, at about which time the young officer retired to his bunk just off the operating room, and Slim came on, to work until three a. m., when he was relieved by Jerry, who stayed until seven o'clock, at which time the lieutenant again assumed charge until relieved by Joe.

It was a standing order, however—at least until the younger men became more experienced with the wireless—that Lieutenant Mackinson immediately should be apprised of the sending or receiving of any messages.

This first evening out the lieutenant complained of a headache, and, acquiescing in Joe's urging, had gone upon deck to get the air. Perhaps fifteen minutes had elapsed when Joe thought he heard someone prowling about stealthily in the battery room.

His first thought was that the lieutenant had returned to make certain that everything was all right, but a moment's consideration convinced him otherwise.

Whoever was in the adjoining room was making every effort to keep his presence there from becoming known!

It gave Joe a queer sort of feeling. What should he do? To seek the lieutenant and bring him back might require several minutes. Meanwhile the intruder might accomplish his object—whatever it was—and disappear.

He decided to act upon his own initiative. Tiptoeing across the room, he turned off the electric switch, which threw the wireless room into utter darkness except for the meagre moonlight filtering through an open porthole.

Then, just as silently, he re-crossed the room to the door leading to the battery room; slowly and without a sound he turned the knob and opened the door to a sufficient width to permit him to peer in. That room also was in darkness, with only one porthole open.

Cautiously the intruder seemed to be feeling about for something connected with the batteries.

Listening intently for a moment, to get the exact location of the other man, Joe flung open the door and made a flying leap in the other's direction. The man was leaning over, and Joe landed squarely upon his back.

With a muffled exclamation of surprise the man jerked himself forward and Joe went hurtling over his head, his arms, however, still clasped tightly about the other man's neck.

Joe knew in an instant that he was in combat with a man larger and more powerful than himself, but his own youth and suppleness were in his favor.

Throwing all his strength into the movement, he twisted about and at the same time jumped, so that he managed to wrap his legs about the other man's waist. With another lithe movement he was again upon his back and reaching for his antagonist's throat, at the same time squeezing with all the strength of his powerful young limbs upon the other's ribs.

Back and forth across the narrow confines of the little room they staggered, now one having a temporary advantage, and again the other. Just as Joe was managing to fasten his fingers in at the throat, and the other was hammering terrible elbow blows into his stomach, the bigger man stumbled. As he fell he turned, and his full weight came down upon the lad, almost crushing him.

Joe was not done for yet, however. With the strength of desperation he held on to the other fellow's shirt. He felt something hard and metallic under it, and in a new grasp included that in his fist.

Again the struggle began. Unable to break Joe's grip, the intruder tried to sink his teeth into the lad's wrist. Failing in this, he gave an evidence of his strength by rising, dragging Joe upward with him.

There was an instant of terrible whirling about the room, and then the man landed a smashing blow on Joe's jaw. Still gripping the man's shirt, and the unknown metallic thing beneath it, the lad reeled. The shirt ripped, there was another sharp snap, and the boy fell backward, dazed.

He heard the man run swiftly, almost noiselessly toward the stern of the ship; brilliant and many-colored lights flashed before his eyes—and he knew no more.

"I don't know," Joe answered. "I discovered him in the battery room. We fought in the dark."

With the aid of the others he raised himself to a sitting posture, then stood up and walked rather unsteadily across the room, took a long quaff of cold water and dropped heavily into Lieutenant Mackinson's Morris chair.

At the same time he gazed for the first time at what he had been holding tightly clutched in his right hand ever since the knockout blow had been delivered. The other three also were staring at it in open amazement.

"What is it?" asked Joe, as the lieutenant crossed the room and took the thing from him for a closer examination.

"What is it?" Lieutenant Mackinson repeated. "Why, lad, this is the German iron cross! Tell us what happened here."

With the young officer seated before him, and his two pals standing at either side of his chair, Joe, quietly, quickly and as carefully as he could, gave them every detail of the occurrence, from the moment he had first heard sounds in the battery room, to the time that the other man ran away and he lapsed into unconsciousness.

While Joe was relating his story the lieutenant examined and re-examined the iron cross, the bit of broken chain still attached to it, and the piece of brown woolen army shirt which the lad had torn away with it. As the latter finished, the young officer hurried into the battery room, accompanied by Slim, to make a survey there.

In ten minutes he returned, his face pale, his jaws clenched.

"There must not be a word of this to anyone," he warned them. "I am going to report to the captain at once. Someone has been tampering with the batteries, and he had with him a portable wireless which he evidently intended to attach."

"You're the original little discoverer, all right," said Slim in open admiration, addressing Joe as the lieutenant hurried from the room. "And you certainly were game, to take the beating you did."

"Yes, he punished me some," Joe admitted. "But I got in a little work on him, too. The only trouble is that I'm afraid I didn't blacken an eye, or break a jaw, or otherwise do any damage that might be apparent and so lead to the fellow's discovery."

"The nerve of it, though!" broke in Jerry.

"A German spy, doubtless masquerading as an American soldier, and right here on a United States transport loaded with fifteen hundred soldiers and tons of guns and ammunition."

"Yes," said Joe contemplatively, "that's the very serious part of it all—the fifteen hundred soldiers and tons of guns and ammunition."

"Sh-h-h-h!"

Slim, who was standing nearest the door, had heard footsteps. A moment later the lieutenant reappeared, accompanied by the captain of the Everett.

When the boys had been presented, the captain abruptly requested Joe to repeat every detail he had told Lieutenant Mackinson. As he did so the captain gazed compassionately upon his injuries.

"And where is the instrument that you discovered?" he asked of the lieutenant when Joe had concluded.

The young officer stepped into the battery room, returning with a small, but evidently powerful, portable wireless transmitter and receiver.

"H'm," exclaimed the captain, examining it carefully. "Of German make."

"Exactly, sir," replied Lieutenant Mackinson, "and evidently quite new—probably never used more than once or twice before."

"This is very serious business," said the captain impressively. And then, addressing Joe: "Did you get a look at the other man? Would you know him if you ever saw him again?"

"No, sir, I did not even get a glimpse of him. But I thought, sir, that perhaps——"

"Yes," encouraged the captain in a kindly tone. "Go on with your suggestion."

"I thought, sir," Joe continued, "that if we could find a man aboard with his shirt torn in such a way that this piece would fit, and especially if he had the other end of this chain in his possession, then it might be pretty definitely assumed that he was the man who was in the battery room."

"The chain—perhaps," said the captain slowly, "although that seems doubtful. As to the shirt, no."

And, unbuttoning his jacket, he produced from beneath it a torn and crumpled brown woolen shirt.

"We found this about twenty feet from here as we were on our way," he continued. "It resembles, but it is not, a regulation army shirt. It is of the same texture and color, but it differs in minor details easily discernible. It is my opinion that the man who wore this shirt bought it and wore it for this very purpose, so that, if necessary, he might discard it and still have the one which came to him through the Quartermaster's Department. We evidently have to deal with a very crafty enemy, and one as bold as he is unscrupulous.

"Lieutenant, what do you make of his manipulations in the battery room?"

"There is no doubt in my mind, sir," Lieutenant Mackinson answered, "that he was about to connect up this instrument and then hide it for future use where it could not easily be seen."

"I believe you are right," said the captain. "And then what use did he intend to make of it?"

"Evidently his intention was not a loyal or friendly one," the junior officer continued. "It would seem to me that his probable purpose was to divulge to German submarines our whereabouts when we came within their zone."

Apparently the commander of the ship agreed with him, for he made no immediate answer. For several moments he remained in meditative silence, his brow wrinkled, as though he was turning the whole thing over and over in his mind.

"From the very fact that he wore such a garment," the captain said at last, "it would seem that this man is among the regularly enlisted men on this ship. However, that is by no means certain. There is this certainty, however: If he would go to such desperate lengths once, there is every possibility that he will do so again—only more cautiously than before, for now he knows that his presence on board is known.

"The most rigid investigation must be started at once, and for that, Lieutenant, I will require your assistance. Leave these young men in charge of the wireless room, unless something unusual or in the nature of an emergency occurs.

"As for you gentlemen," he continued, turning toward the three boys from Brighton, "you are commanded not to mention a single word about this whole occurrence to another soul. If any one should question you, with a seeming knowledge of what happened here to-night, report the matter to me at once."

"Yes, sir," the three boys responded, saluting, and the captain departed, motioning Lieutenant Mackinson to accompany him.

By this time Joe was stiff and sore in every joint. Jerry and Slim insisted that he retire immediately, and helped him off with his clothing.

Nor was there any objection from Jerry, whose turn in the wireless room was to begin then and last until one o'clock in the morning, when Slim suggested that he would stay on with him, "just to talk things over."

"All right," said Jerry, "and then I'll stay on during your shift, until Joe relieves us in the morning. We can get a good sleep to-morrow, anyway."

And so the long night began. The dull song of the engines, far, far below, became like the monotonous droning of giant bees, and the wash of the salt water against the side of the ship was a constantly recurring swash-h-h—swish—swash-h-h—swish as the vessel plowed on and on through the darkness, toward the submarine zone and Europe and the battlefields and the trenches and the men—millions of them—of the Allied armies.

It was near midnight, and the boys had fallen silent, Jerry with the wireless headpiece over his ears, Slim standing near the porthole, gazing out at the lone swaying light that indicated the position and the progress of the cruiser convoy on the port side.

Suddenly Slim whirled around, his face pale, his muscles tense, and with a motion to Jerry signaled silence. As the latter removed the gear from his head, Slim tiptoed across the room to him. Placing his lips close to Jerry's ears he said: "I thought I heard someone in the battery room. Listen!"

There was no doubt of it this time. Both boys heard the sound. It was of someone softly feeling about, as though in doubt as to his exact position.

"Quick!" hissed Slim into Jerry's ear. "You get the captain and lieutenant; I'll wait here."

And as Jerry disappeared through the room in which Joe was sleeping, so as not to give suspicion to the man in the battery room, Slim slid into Jerry's chair and centered every faculty upon listening to the almost inaudible movements in the next chamber.

He could tell instinctively that the man was feeling about the walls with his hands. And not unnaturally, recalling Joe's experience only a few hours before, it gave Slim a creepy sort of feeling.

Then all sound ceased. Try as hard as he would, he could not hear a thing. He rose from the chair and went closer to the intervening door. All was silent!

A few seconds later the captain and lieutenant, accompanied by Jerry, came hurrying into the room. Without an instant's delay the captain turned the knob and they entered the battery room, switching on the light at the same time.

Apparently not a thing had been touched, but the outer door was ajar. The lieutenant jumped to it and peered out, but no one was to be seen. He closed and locked the door and began an inspection of the batteries.

"Everything seems to be all right," he said finally; and then, his eyes traveling to the table, he stopped short.

"The wireless instrument," he gasped. "It's gone!"

"Where was it left?" the captain demanded sharply.

"On that table there," Lieutenant Mackinson answered. "I placed it there myself, as you probably will remember, just before we went out together."

"I remember," the captain admitted.

"That spy has been back," the junior officer continued. "Back in this very room after his instrument, and he intends to use it yet if he can!"

The record of every enlisted man and officer on the vessel had been most carefully probed, without building up enough suspicion to warrant the singling out of any individual as the probable offender.

Likewise an investigation of the members of the crew had failed to develop anything tangible, even directly suspicious. It was a case of watch everybody, take every precaution, and be prepared for anything. Only nine men on the vessel, however, including the spy himself, knew anything about it, and the rest were in utter ignorance of the treachery that might be directed against them at any time.

Refreshed by their sleep, Jerry and Slim arose about four o'clock that afternoon. Joe, who had rested easily throughout the later excitement of the preceding night, was still in the midst of the investigation and was not then to be found. Jerry had some letters to write, so Slim went to the upper deck alone.

Seeing no one that he knew, and his mind weighted anyway with the menacing mystery of the strange happenings of the night before, he sat down on a coil of rope, just in the lee of the forward smokestack, to think the whole matter over for the twentieth time.

He was thus absorbed when something, at first vague and indefinite, then clearer and clearer until it was unmistakable, began to impress itself upon his mind. Like the awakening call that comes to a man in a sound sleep—seemingly as a far-off whisper that gradually gathers volume and strength until finally the sleeper awakes with a start to find someone standing directly over him, loudly and insistently calling his name—so Slim came to a realization of the strange series of sounds that were being repeated within a few feet of him.

Could it possibly be only the crackling of the steam-pipe that ran along the smokestack to the whistle—a crackling merely from the pressure within? For a moment Slim thought an over-wrought imagination was playing tricks upon him. But he rose hastily and crossed the short intervening distance.

Clearly and distinctly it came to him then. Someone in another part of the vessel was rapping desperately upon that pipe! And in the long and short dashes of the international code that someone was repeating a single word—"Help! Help! Help!"

In another instant, using the heavy end of his jackknife as a crude transmitter, Slim was tapping off the reply:

"Who are you—and where?"

"Lieutenant Mackinson," the message began to come back. "Locked in closet off engine room. Can't make self heard. Can you help?"

"This is Slim," the youth rapped back upon the pipe. "Caught your message on deck. Am coming with help at once."

And he dashed down the deck toward the captain's quarters, almost bowling over the captain's aide as he hurtled into the sanctum of the ship's commander unannounced.

"Well?" the captain demanded sternly. "Why all the haste?"

"Lieutenant Mackinson," Slim blurted out; "he's locked in a closet down near the engine room."

"Locked in a closet!" the captain repeated incredulously. "How do you know?"

"He gave a telegraphic call for help on the steam-pipe which runs through there and connects with the whistle," the lad explained. "I was on deck and heard it. I talked with him over the pipe."

"There is no time to lose, then. Come with me." And the captain himself hurriedly led the way down through the lower depths of the ship, where it became hotter and more oppressive with every step they took.

They had taken a route by which they escaped the attention of anyone else on the ship.

"It should be right about here somewhere," the captain announced, as they approached a particularly dark passage. For a few steps they felt their way along, and then stopped to listen.

There was nothing but the dull and constant hum of the engines and the almost insufferable heat.

"The other side," said the captain in a lowered voice, as they failed to find any trace of the imprisoned lieutenant where they were.

They were crossing a short gallery when Slim abruptly signaled a halt.

"I thought I heard something," he said. "It sounded like another call."

They stood silent a moment, and then, faint and indistinct, apparently from somewhere several feet ahead of them, they both heard repeated that which had made Slim stop. As the letters were tapped off upon the pipe the lad repeated them for the information of the captain.

"S-M-O-T-H-E-R-I-N-G."

"Smothering!" echoed the commander of the ship. "Great Scott! I believe I know now where he is. This way," and he started down the passageway toward a narrow stairs leading to a still lower chamber in the vessel.

Three turns—two to the right and one to the left—and the captain stopped again to listen. Seemingly from within the wall, right at their elbows, there came a feeble knock. The officer whipped out a pocket flashlight. They were directly in front of a heavy wooden door. It was locked.

"Run get a cold chisel or a heavy screwdriver and hammer," the captain ordered, and Slim hastened away, to return two minutes later with all three tools.

"Stand back as far as you can from the door," said the captain, placing his lips close to the keyhole. But there was no response from within.

Realizing now that Lieutenant Mackinson must have lost consciousness, and that moments might mean life or death to him, the captain worked with feverish haste. He drove the heavy chisel into the crack between the door and the jam, and then, standing off to get a wider swing with the hammer, struck it sidewise.

A panel of the door cracked and loosened. Two more attempts and the panel fell in strips to the floor. Thus given something for a grip-hold, the captain, who was a massive man, took hold with both hands, put his right foot against the wall, and, with one tremendous tug, into which he threw the whole weight of his body, brought the entire door from its hinges.

The captain went staggering backward from the force of his effort and the weight of the door.

The unconscious form of Lieutenant Mackinson tumbled out upon the floor. His face was almost blue from suffocation.

The captain sounded three short, sharp blasts upon a whistle which he had taken from his pocket, and two oilers came running to the spot.

"Help us carry this man to fresh air immediately," he ordered. "He has been overcome."

With one of the oilers carrying the lieutenant by the feet, and the other man and Slim at either shoulder, the unconscious young officer was carried up flight after flight of steps until, the captain leading the way, they arrived at the promenade deck.

A seaman was dispatched for the ship's surgeon, who arrived a few minutes later to find the first-aid efforts of the four men just bringing Lieutenant Mackinson back to consciousness.

As the physician forced some aromatic spirits of ammonia between his lips the lieutenant opened his eyes and gazed about vaguely.

"What's the matter?" he asked weakly; but before anyone could answer he had relapsed again, and there was another wait of several minutes.

But this time the lieutenant's mind was clearing.

"Somebody shoved me—in that closet," he gasped, "and then—slammed and—locked—the door."

He recognized the captain and the doctor. As his eyes closed again he added, in an almost inaudible whisper: "I was getting too close on somebody's trail."

The captain looked at the ship's doctor significantly and dismissed the two oilers with instructions to return to their duties.

"Found him locked in a small compartment down near the auxiliary engine room," the commander said briefly. "Hotter than blazes, and no air whatever where he was. He made his whereabouts known by tapping a message on a steam-pipe."

"H'm," said the doctor, whose youthful appearance might not give a stranger a proper measure of his long and varied experience. "Nearly suffocated, too. He couldn't have lasted there much longer. His heart action is pretty weak even yet. Better have him removed to his bed, and kept there for the rest of the day, at least."

At that moment Jerry came hurrying down the deck. He was visibly excited, but, unlike Slim, he did not forget that not only must a soldier never permit his feelings to run away with him, but that he must be equally mindful of respect for superiors.

And so, even as two men carried Lieutenant Mackinson away, he remained standing at salute, waiting for the captain to recognize him with a return of the salute.

"And now what?" asked the captain.

Jerry stepped forward, with difficulty repressing his excitement.

"I stepped out of the wireless room for only a few moments," he said. "When I returned I found this lying upon the table."

He opened his left hand. In it lay a piece of light chain, both ends broken.

"Beside it," he continued, "was this note."

From his pocket he extracted a piece of paper, the edges of which were roughly torn. He handed it to the captain, who read aloud: