CHAPTER XIII
ROY GAINS ANOTHER FRIEND
On went the Lycoming, creeping cautiously through the fog. For hours Roy sat at his instrument and kept in touch with the steamers he had already talked to. Again he went over his newspaper file and searched out all the other ships recorded that by any possibility at all could be near the Lycoming. One by one he flung out their call signals. Some he heard at a far distance, some he could not reach at all. From time to time he talked with the City of Columbus, but she was still afar off. When he had thoroughly combed the air with his wireless signals, Roy breathed more freely. He felt certain that no steamer was in the Lycoming’s path or in her immediate neighborhood. The only thing that remained to fear was some silent sailing ship that might suddenly come plunging out of the mist bank. Roy hoped the time would soon come when every ship afloat would be compelled to carry wireless.
Suddenly the fog lifted as mysteriously as it had come. The rain ceased. The wind fell somewhat, but still continued high. Roy looked at his watch and was surprised to see that they had been in the fog-bank for more than eight hours. It was night. Roy had not even been conscious that he had missed his supper. Now he was suddenly so hungry he felt as though he could eat nails. The dining-room was closed. Roy punched the bell for the steward. When the latter appeared, Roy said, “Sam, could you get a fellow a bite to eat? We’ve been so busy up here that I clean forgot to go to supper.”
Now Roy remembered that he was wet. Every garment he had on was sopping with moisture. Puddles of water had gathered under his chair. His operating table was soaked. His chair held a little pool of water. He had been hot with excitement and had not been conscious of his wet clothes. Now he threw off his clammy garments, rubbed himself briskly, and pulled on dry clothes. Just as he finished, Sam returned with a pot of steaming coffee, an enormous quantity of sandwiches, some freshly boiled eggs, and a big piece of pie.
“That sure looks good to me,” said Roy, as he reached for a sandwich. “I am much obliged to you, Sam.”
“Don’t mention it, suh. We all is mighty grateful to you fo’ what you done fo’ de ship.” And Sam disappeared through the doorway, grinning.
Roy’s heart leaped with joy. At last he had won recognition. Then he wondered how Sam knew about the occurrence. Perhaps he had only guessed what had happened. Yet Roy knew that could not be. Some one must have reported the occurrence and that some one could be only the captain or Mr. Young. Roy was certain it was not the captain. It did not matter to Roy who told it. Whoever did had considered Roy’s service as meritorious or he would not have mentioned it. Roy felt that there was no doubt that recognition had come to him. He resolved to be very careful not to mention the matter himself lest he seem boastful.
After all, Roy asked himself, had he done anything remarkable? He had merely made use of his knowledge of scientific principles. The captain, who had sailed the sea for a generation and faced countless storms and fogs without ever losing a man or a ship, had done a million times more. That thought was both sobering and wholesome. It helped Roy to see matters in their proper light. If anybody spoke to him now about the matter he was in no danger of getting a “swelled head.” Compared to the captain he felt very insignificant indeed.
It was well that these sobering thoughts came to Roy so soon, for very shortly afterward Mr. Young stalked into the wireless house. He had seldom visited Roy there and Roy was happy to see him. He was happier still when Mr. Young walked over to the operating table, studied the instruments intently, and, turning to Roy, demanded, “How did you do that, Mr. Mercer?”
“Do what?” asked Roy.
“Find out how close that ship was? To begin with, how did you know she was near?”
“I was never in a big fog before,” said Roy, “but I saw at once that the ship was in a dangerous situation. I wondered what I could do to help. I knew that at least I could figure out what ships were in the neighborhood.”
“How?” said the mate, much interested.
“You see,” explained Roy, “I have kept a file of the Herald shipping news ever since I joined the Lycoming. That gave me the names of the ships of any size that have sailed from various ports in the last few days. I made a list of them. Here it is.”
Roy handed the list to Mr. Young, who looked at it with interest.
“Then I tried to figure out which ones would be due in our neighborhood. I didn’t know how fast any of them traveled, but you can bet your boots that hereafter I’m going to learn the speed of every ship we pass. I figured they would all go at about our rate—fifteen knots. Then I worked out the distances from all the ports south of us, including Cuban and West Indian ports, and reckoned what ships should be near us. When I had found that out, I began calling them. Only one of them seemed to be very close—the Merrimack.”
“How could you determine that?”
“Well, I knew we were off Hatteras, and most of the ships I talked with knew where they were. But the Merrimack was lost in the fog and her wireless man didn’t know where he was.”
“Then how did you know she was near?”
“By the wireless signals. They were so loud and distinct that I knew she was close at hand.”
“But how could you tell that she was five thousand feet away at one time and a little later only two thousand feet? That’s what puzzles me. I never heard of anything like it before.”
“It was this way,” explained Roy. “When I got into touch with her wireless man, he asked if we could hear the Merrimack’s whistle. He said they could distinctly hear ours. At least he supposed it was ours. I listened and heard the whistle, but one time it seemed near and again far off. I couldn’t tell from what direction the sound came.”
“Correct,” said Mr. Young. “We heard it, too. Fog does the strangest things to sound. That’s what makes it so dangerous for ships. The officer in charge can usually hear another ship, but sometimes he can’t for the life of him tell what direction the sound comes from.”
“Well,” continued Roy, “it occurred to me that if the Merrimack’s whistle and her wireless instrument could signal at the same instant I could tell how far away she was.”
“How?” asked the first mate, more interested than ever.
“Why, you know, Mr. Young, electricity is instantaneous, while it takes sound a second to travel a thousand feet. If the two signals started together, I could time the difference between their arrivals. It was simple enough if only the Merrimack could send the signals right.”
“Now what do you think of that?” cried the mate. “How did you manage it?”
“The Merrimack’s wireless man did that. I asked him if he could. He said he would talk to the captain and they would set their watches together and each signal at the same instant. All I had to do was listen to the signals and catch the time between them.”
“Well, I’ll be darned!” ejaculated the first mate. “I never heard anything like it. Is that what they teach you at the radio school?”
“I’ve never been to one,” said Roy. “All I know about wireless I picked up myself.”
The first officer regarded Roy with astonishment. “Well, you’re a pippin,” he said.
Roy laughed. “A little while ago,” he replied, “I thought I would soon be a fish. When the Merrimack signaled a second time and there was only two seconds’ difference between her radio and her whistle, I thought it was all up with us. I signaled her to reverse and raced out to you on the bridge. You know the rest.”
“Mr. Mercer,” said the first mate, as he rose to go, “I’m going to tell the captain every word of this. He has never thought very much of wireless, because he always said, ‘What good is it? It won’t tell you where you are, or where the other fellow is. And when you’re in a fog those are the only things a skipper wants to know.’ But it seems that in the right hands it will answer both questions.”
“Don’t be in a hurry,” said Roy, trying to change the subject. “Have a bite to eat. Sam just brought me this stuff. The coffee’s piping hot. You must be tired to death. You’ve been on the bridge more than twelve hours straight.”
“Thanks,” said the mate. “A cup of hot coffee and a sandwich would taste good, if it won’t be robbing you.”
They sat and talked for half an hour, munching sandwiches as they conversed. When Mr. Young finally went to his own quarters, Roy felt as though they had been friends for years. Their brief comradeship in danger had made their friendship real. Roy felt this so keenly that as his big visitor rose to go, he said, “I wish you would call me Roy when we’re alone, and not Mr. Mercer. You know I’m not used to being called Mister yet and I’d rather not have my friends use that handle when they talk to me.”
“All right, Roy. Good-night and my hearty thanks for your help to-day.”