Kitabı oku: «The Ocean Wireless Boys on the Pacific», sayfa 7
CHAPTER XXIV. – WIRELESS AT WORK
For two days they traveled thus, making fresh discoveries constantly. Once, for instance, Billy triumphantly pounced on what seemed like a fine bit of fire-wood for the noon-day halt. But he dropped it with a yell, as the “stick” suddenly developed legs and on being dropped walked off.
“Begorrah, there’s a shillalegh come to loife, so it has,” yelled Muldoon, as he observed the phenomenon; but the “shillalegh” was only one of those strange “stick insects” that abound in that part of the world and sometimes fool even the natives.
At noon of the third day they found themselves approaching a settlement, as cleared ground, where grew maize, sugar cane, yams and other plants, testified. The village proved to be a large one where white traders and animal collectors often stopped and there was a native hostelry in it conducted by a greasy-looking Frenchman who had a native wife as dirty-looking as he was. The native huts were all of bamboo hung with cocoanut mats. Natives squatted in front of them chewing betel nuts, the juice crimsoning their lips and chins. All ages and both sexes indulged in the habit, which is universal throughout Polynesia and the South Seas generally.
There appeared to be a lot of rivalry among the men as to who could grow the fuzziest, most outstanding crop of hair.
“Faith, a barber would starve to death in this country,” declared Muldoon.
Just then a young woman came down the “street,” if such the muddy track between the huts could be called. She held something in her arms that they thought at first was a baby. But it turned out to be a young pig!
“We’ll rest at the hotel here,” said Mr. Jukes, “till it grows cooler. My dyspepsia is bad again. It comes from traveling during the heat of the day as we have been doing.”
The mid-day meal was cooked on a sort of altar built of stones. The boys watched the operations in this open-air kitchen with interest. At least twenty natives assisted in the culinary demonstration and the chatter and laughter was deafening. They made a hearty meal on the native fare, which they were astonished to find was quite as good as anything they had tasted at home.
As Mr. Jukes did not wish to go forward at once after the meal they took it easy in several grass hammocks stretched under a large, shady, tree. The fact that the natives kept coming up and peering into their faces and that babies, chickens and pigs wandered about under the hammocks did not disturb the boys after a while, and they dropped off to sleep.
“I don’t wonder the natives here are lazy,” remarked Jack, when Muldoon awakened him with a yell of “All hands on deck to see it rain.” “I rarely slept in the day-time, but here I just dozed off without knowing it.”
“Same here,” chimed in Raynor. “I didn’t have to even half try.”
“This climate is very enervating, boys,” declared Captain Sparhawk, joining in the conversation. “That is why this part of the globe makes so little progress toward civilisation. Men who are hustlers in their own country come here determined to make the dirt fly, but after a few months their energy oozes out of them like – well, say like tar out of the seams of a hot ship’s deck.”
“That’s a good comparison,” laughed Jack.
Once more everything was stirring in the adventurers’ camp, and soon they were on their way again. The Frenchman, whose “hotel” they had left, had told them that by evening they would reach another village, the last one they would encounter before plunging into the really wild jungle, where there was another “hotel.”
“As it will be our last chance for many days to sleep under a roof, I propose we stay there to-night,” said Mr. Jukes, swallowing a pill.
This suited the rest of the party and they struck forward at a brisk pace after their refreshing rest and sleep. The jungle was filled with countless birds, but there were no feathered songsters among them. The air was filled with nothing but discordant shrieks and cries that set the teeth on edge. Once the boys had the thrill of seeing a bird of paradise, with its glorious plumage and wonderful tail feathers, flash across their path.
The village they stopped at that evening resembled in almost every respect the one in which the noon-day halt had been made. There were the same huts, the same swarming pigs and chickens, and the same fuzzy-headed Papuans, many of them returning from the fields with corn and yams.
The proprietor of the “hotel,” which had no more pretensions to the name than the other hostelry, proved to be a Portuguese half-caste, lacking one eye, and sporting a pair of huge brass ear-rings. His wife was a giant negress. However, they welcomed the party warmly, as they had good reason to do, not having had any guests for some time, and pigs and fowls were at once killed for supper, everything in such places being ordered “on the hoof,” so to speak. Mr. Jukes delighted his native followers by ordering an elaborate meal for them also, in celebration of the fact that on the morrow they would leave “civilization” behind them.
Jack, at Mr. Jukes’ request, set up his wireless plant, stringing the aerials from a tall tree up which one of the natives swarmed like a monkey to make the long wires fast. As he worked, he and Billy talked.
“I guess we’ll sleep with one eye open to-night,” said Jack in an undertone, for they were surrounded by a curious crowd watching the white boy “make conjure medicine.”
“Yes, those hotel people are a crafty-looking couple,” rejoined Billy, “and in a country like this it’s a good thing to regard everybody with suspicion till you find them all right.”
Muldoon sauntered up to them as they chatted and worked and had his word to put in too.
“Begorrah, that Portugee don’t look like no angel,” he said, “and his wife looks like the ould Nick himsilf.”
“Just what we were talking about, Muldoon,” said Jack. “It will be a good thing if we keep our eyes and ears open.”
At last Jack got everything ready, and Raynor started to turn the hand-crank of the generator, for of course a gasoline engine for that purpose could not be carried into the jungle. When the storage batteries were charged, Jack began to pump out the Sea Gypsy’s call. At the first crackle and whip-snap like explosion of the spark the natives scattered with yells. Even Salloo, who was looking on, and had to stand his ground to maintain his dignity before his men, looked uneasy and shifted about nervously.
It was some time before Jack got a reply, but at last he received Thurman’s answering call.
Everything it seemed was O. K. and there was no particular news from his end except that another party had started up-country right on the heels of Mr. Jukes’ expedition. It was thought they were traders, Thurman said. Jack gave his news and then flashed “Good-night.”
He told Mr. Jukes of the conversation and of the start of a second party.
“I heard nothing in Bomobori of a second expedition,” mused Mr. Jukes, on receipt of this information. “But no doubt they are traders. It seems odd, though, that they didn’t join with us if they were coming this way, as is the general custom.”
CHAPTER XXV. – A JUNGLE HOTEL
The hostelry was divided into half a dozen rooms walled with bamboo, and all on the ground floor. Rough mats of cocoanut cloth alone interposed between the sleepers and the ground, and cockroaches and singing lizards abounded. But by this time the lads had become pretty well used to the night noises of the jungle, which are far more tumultuous after dark than in the day-time, and as for the hard beds, they were too tired to mind much where they slept.
Jack had not slept long when he was awakened by someone calling to him. It was Muldoon. The Irishman was plainly agitated by some excitement as he stood in the grass-curtained door-way.
“Whist!” he exclaimed, holding a finger to his lips, “is thot you Misther Riddy?”
“Yes, what’s the trouble, Muldoon?”
“Shure o’ive made a discovery, sor.”
“What?”
“Thot other party. Ther ones you was tiligraphing about.”
“Well, what about them?”
“They’re here, begob.”
“Where, in the hotel?”
“No, in the woods back of the house.”
“Camping there?”
“No, bejabbers. There’s something looks queer to me about the whole thing, that’s why I called yez. They’ve sent for the Dago that runs this shabeen, sor.”
“Maybe they want to get accommodations?”
“Thin why wouldn’t they stip up like min and ask for ’em?” was Muldoon’s unanswerable retort.
Just then Mr. Jukes, rubbing his eyes sleepily, appeared in the door-way. Behind him stood the giant negress. The millionaire had evidently dressed hastily.
“I’ve got news, Ready,” he exclaimed in a rather excited voice. “This woman has just told me that her husband wants to see me outside. I gathered it’s on some matter connected with my brother.”
“Yassir,” grinned the hideous negress, showing a double row of sharply filed teeth, “dat’s it, sah. It’s 'bout yo’ brudder.”
Raynor had awakened by this time and was sitting up on his mat listening sleepily. He eyed the woman narrowly as she spoke and an uneasy conviction entered his mind that all was not well.
“You’d better be cautious, sir,” warned Jack, who also felt an undeniable feeling of suspicion, “something may be wrong.”
“What can be wrong,” demanded Mr. Jukes, rather impatiently. “I’m going outside to see. If it’s about my brother it’s my duty to do so at once.”
“Then if you’re going I’ll go with you,” said Jack, hastily throwing on the garments he had divested himself of, and strapping on his revolver.
“And begorrah o’i second the motion,” declared Muldoon.
“Wait a moment for me,” begged Billy.
“No, stay here,” said Jack. “If anything goes wrong, I’ll fire three shots.”
A minute later, followed by the native woman, the three left the place. As they reached the door she took the lead and conducted them through a bamboo grove to a thick growth of trees under which her husband and a big man with black beard were conversing.
“You wish to see me?” asked Mr. Jukes, addressing the bearded one.
“Yes; zees gentleman say zat 'e ave good news for you,” said the landlord, spreading his hands.
“Begorrah, oi don’t see no gintilmin here excipt oursilves,” muttered Muldoon.
“Muldoon, be quiet,” ordered Mr. Jukes, then turning to the black-bearded man he went on with, “Well, sir, what is it you wish?”
“You are Mr. Jukes?” asked the other, in a deep, gruff voice.
“I am, what of it?”
“I want to see you. I have news for you.”
“But – but I don’t know you. Why didn’t you come to the hotel if you had anything to say to me?” asked the millionaire in a puzzled way.
“I wanted to talk to you in private about your brother,” was the reply.
“My brother! Why, we are searching for him now. That is the reason of our presence in the jungle. Do you know anything about him?”
“I do. It was he who sent me here.”
“Jerushah sent you?” the millionaire was fairly amazed now. “He is then alive?”
“Yes, but he is a prisoner and very sick. Through natives he heard of the arrival of your expedition and sent me even at this hour to bring you to him.”
“That is a strange story, my man,” said Mr. Jukes suspiciously. “I might say it is almost incredible.”
“I’ll admit it does sound strange,” said the other, “but strange things happen in this part of the world. I might add that the other Mr. Jukes wants to see you alone. Something about a pearl, I believe.”
Jack gave a tug at Mr. Jukes’ sleeve. The lad had been peering about him through the dark trees and had seen something the others had not. If his eyes had not deceived him, and Jack did not believe they had, several forms were moving about in the gloom beneath the interlaced branches.
“Mr. Jukes,” he whispered, “I don’t believe this man. I think we are in some sort of a trap. Why didn’t he come to the house with this cock-and-bull story?”
Mr. Jukes hesitated. It was strange that this man of great affairs, before whom board meetings quailed, and who ruled almost supreme among the great money kings of New York, appeared to be lost now that he was out of his little world and among the great elemental things of the untraveled jungle.
“I’m sure I don’t know, Ready,” he replied.
“Ask him,” suggested Jack, with his hand on his revolver. He felt that a crisis of some sort was at hand, but it was too late to retreat now.
Mr. Jukes, with some of his old pomposity, put the question. The bearded man’s reply was brief and to the point.
“That is beside the question,” he snapped. “Are you coming with me?”
Before any reply could be made the bearded man’s eye caught the glint of Jack’s weapon. Instantly a shrill whistle sounded. From the trees leaped a dozen or more men.
“Howly saints! A trap!” yelled Muldoon.
“A trap!” echoed Jack. He raised his pistol to cover the black-bearded man. But before he had it leveled both he and Mr. Jukes were thrown from their feet by a combined attack and in a twinkling both the millionaire and the boy were helpless.
“Run for the house, Muldoon. Warn the others. Come after us as quick as you can.”
“Hold your horses there,” roared the black-bearded man, who, as our readers will have guessed, was ‘Bully’ Broom himself, with his band of renegade followers. He tried to block the boatswain’s path as Muldoon darted off.
Biff, the old seaman’s knotted fist shot out and caught the redoubtable ‘Bully’ between his eyes. He staggered but did not fall.
“Take that, you murtherin’ spalpeen,” shouted Muldoon, as he darted off among the trees and was speedily lost to sight. Three or four of the band pursued him, but ‘Bully’ Broom called them back.
“We’ve got the fellows we want,” he said; “bind and gag them and if they show fight don’t be too gentle with them.”
CHAPTER XXVI. – PRISONERS OF ‘BULLY’ BROOM
Jack fought desperately, but as he was helpless, and in return for his struggles received only a rain of brutal blows, he deemed it wiser to remain quiet. Soon both he and the millionaire had their hands tied behind their backs and gags of dirty grass were thrust, none too gently, into their mouths.
“Now march, and behave yourselves or you’ll be shot,” snarled ‘Bully’ Broom, whose temper had not been improved by the blow Muldoon’s strong fist had given him.
As it would have been folly to have resisted, situated as they were, the two prisoners did as they were told. Jack wondered where they were being taken and why they had been attacked. Even his acute mind did not connect their captors with ‘Bully’ Broom and his gang. The boy thought they had fallen into the hands of one of those bands of free-booters, known to frequent parts of the bush, holding up helpless travelers.
He felt sorry for Mr. Jukes, though. The millionaire was stout and accustomed to his ease. After his tiring day this night march must have been cruel exertion to him. But if he lagged, the man of millions received a vicious jab in the back with the stock of a rifle.
Even in this trouble, Jack could not help reflecting on the strange turn of the wheel of fortune that had brought Jacob Jukes, man of millions, into the heart of a lonely jungle, a shirt-sleeved, perspiring prisoner, in the hands of a band of men of undoubtedly desperate character. He wondered, too, if the millionaire himself was not contrasting this cruel march through the forest with his magnificent town and country houses, his automobiles, his lavishly furnished offices and his elaborate entertainments. If he were doing so, Jack surmised that his thoughts must be bitter. In thinking thus, Jack contrived largely to keep his mind off his own misfortunes.
A journey of some hours, at the close of which Mr. Jukes began to give every outward sign of deep physical exhaustion, brought them to a clearing, once cultivated, but now neglected, overlooking the river. Here, on a bluff about fifty feet above the water, in years gone by, a trading company had maintained a post. It had been built in the days when the natives were troublesome in that section and it was a strong structure like a fort. It was almost overgrown with rank tropical vines, but evidently the way to it was not unknown to the men conducting Mr. Jukes and Jack.
Lanterns were lit and when the two captives had been ushered in both were made fast to the logs that formed the walls of the place. Jack glanced at Mr. Jukes. The millionaire was assuredly a pitiable-looking object. His fine white shirt was torn almost to ribbons by thorny vines encountered along the path, his carefully groomed appearance had given way to a general disreputableness that would have gained him recognition by any tramp as a member of the fraternity, his face was almost purple, from his enforced exertions and the gag in his mouth.
“Gracious, he looks as if he might have apoplexy at any minute,” thought Jack, who, although he was in as bad a plight, characteristically did not spend any sympathy on himself. Perhaps the members of the band that had captured them noticed what Jack had, and feared fatal consequences, for Mr. Jukes’ gag was soon removed and so was Jack’s.
When this had been done, and before Mr. Jukes could recover his breath enough to speak, the rascals withdrew to the other end of the building, which was like a long mess hall and may indeed have been used at some time as such.
“What does this outrage mean?” demanded Jack, as the black-bearded man strolled off last of all, after looking them over with a cynical smile.
“You would like to know, eh, Jack Ready?”
“So you know my name?” exclaimed Jack in some surprise.
“Yes, and that of your companions who will join you here before long. We hope to have the pleasure of your company for quite a long time.”
“You abominable ruffian,” cried Jack, overcome by indignation, “you will pay dearly for this some time,” but at the same time the boy did not believe that the rest had been caught napping and captured. They were a strong party and, led by Muldoon, he knew they would put up a stiff fight.
“I wish you had taken my warning, Mr. Jukes,” Jack could not help saying, as soon as they were left alone.
“You wish it no more fervently than I do, my boy,” was the despondent reply. “Wall Street and New York seem like a dream to me. Only this horror is real.”
“I would like to know what it all means,” said Jack. “These men can’t be just common robbers; they appear to have a regular hang-out here.”
“I can’t help thinking that I’ve seen some of these ruffians loitering about Bomobori,” said Mr. Jukes.
“That struck me, too. At any rate they must be the party Thurman wirelessed to me about as leaving just behind us. They’ve followed our trail pretty closely, too. We should have been more on our guard.”
Slowly the hours wore by till daylight began to show in the narrow windows of the old barracks. The positions of both prisoners were most uncomfortable. The strain on their arms from the tightly tied cords was almost unbearable.
“And to think I used to complain of discomfort if my chauffeur allowed my car to bump over a rut,” groaned Mr. Jukes, with a comical pathos that would have made Jack smile had they been in any other situation.
All the men had left the place, but they could hear the murmur of their voices outside. A smell of wood smoke drifted in and then the tantalising odors of frying bacon and the aroma of coffee combined to remind both prisoners that, in spite of their sufferings, they were both hungry and thirsty.
“I wonder if we are going to get any breakfast?” asked Jack, after a silence broken only by Mr. Jukes’ pathetic groans.
“I’d risk a month of dyspepsia for a plate of beans and bacon right now,” wailed the unhappy millionaire.
“Yes,” thought Jack. “There are decidedly situations where all the millions in the world wouldn’t do you much good, and this, apparently, is one of them.”
At last footsteps were heard approaching from the opposite end of the ramshackle building.
“Somebody at last,” cried Jack.
He had hardly spoken when ‘Bully’ Broom stood before them, followed by – Donald Judson.
CHAPTER XXVII. – AT THE OLD FORT
Jack found it difficult to credit his eyesight as he gazed at the boy who formerly had made so much trouble for them and the gigantic ruffian who stood beside him.
“Judson! Is it possible?” he gasped. “What brought you here?”
“Are you a prisoner, too?” demanded Mr. Jukes.
“A prisoner?” laughed Judson. “Well, that’s a good one, I must say. Only fools walk into traps.”
“Well, what are you doing here then, boy?” demanded the millionaire, recollecting his former kindness to Donald. “You ask him, Ready. He’s a friend of yours.”
“He’s no friend of mine, Mr. Jukes,” denied Jack. “Can’t you see it all?”
“See what?”
“Why, the contemptible turn-coat is in with these rascals.”
“Impossible!”
“So, Judson,” went on Jack, “this is how you repay our kindness to you?”
“Your kindness,” sneered the boy. “I want none of it. I’m in with a good crowd now. Besides, I told you in Bomobori I didn’t want to go with your old expedition.”
“But you didn’t refuse the money I got you from Mr. Jukes,” said Jack.
“Oh, he’s made of money,” chuckled Donald, “and we mean to get some more of it.”
“You miserable young whelp,” panted the helpless millionaire, purple with rage, “if I had you in America – ”
“And anyhow,” continued Judson, thoroughly enjoying this, “you are only getting what’s coming to you, Ready. In the States you tried to have me put in pris – er that is you wanted to tell lies about me.”
“I’m sorry we didn’t have you locked up, now,” said Jack bitterly. “I suppose you put this gang of scoundrels on our trail.”
“You can suppose anything you want,” was the rejoinder, but a bit of the old boastfulness crept into his tone, “and you’re going to pay up, too, before you get out of this. Have you had them searched, Captain Broom?”
“What – ?” shouted the millionaire, almost beside himself at this sudden revelation of the black-bearded man’s identity, “are you ‘Bully’ Broom?”
“My name’s Broom all right,” was the surly reply, “but I want my proper handle, which is Captain.”
“What have you done with my brother, you infernal rascal?” stormed the millionaire.
“Now you ain’t going to get along any better by cutting up rough and losing your temper like that, pard’ner,” was the cool reminder. “You may be my guest for quite a time, so let’s you and me get along peaceable. Otherwise we’ll find a way to make you keep a civil tongue in your head.”
“Did you have them searched?” repeated Donald greedily. “If you did I want my share of it.”
“They were searched, Judson, but they only had a few dollars; not more than a hundred at most.”
“Bah!” growled Judson; “then they left some behind at old Baroni’s place. If we don’t capture the others, then – ”
“Never mind that, now,” commanded Broom; “you tell ’em what I told you.”
“All right,” assented Judson, and then, turning to Jack, he said:
“Do you know why you were brought here, Mr. Fresh?”
“To be robbed, I suppose. I see no other explanation to it,” was Jack’s reply, with a steady look at Judson that made the other drop his eyes. “I always knew you were a bad lot, Judson, but I never thought you were as bad as this.”
“Don’t talk to me like that. I’m as good as you,” stormed Judson, although he looked uneasy. Jack’s shot had told. “To be brief, we want to make money out of you.”
“In what way?”
“First of all, you must answer our questions.”
“That’s the way,” approved ‘Bully’ Broom, stroking his huge beard. “How much money did you bring with you from America?”
“Very little cash,” replied the millionaire, who had found it more prudent to control his temper, “most of the money is in the form of a letter of credit.”
“Where is that letter of credit?” demanded Judson, interfering.
“It is in Bomobori with the bankers,” was the reply, and Jack rejoiced to think that Mr. Jukes had managed to tell him that, as most of the money had been left behind at the hostelry with Captain Sparhawk, who had been appointed a sort of pay-master to the party.
“Well, now we’ll come down to brass tacks,” growled Broom, after an interval of thought. “How much is your liberty worth to you?”
“So that’s your game, is it, you rascally blackmailer?” sputtered the infuriated millionaire. “You won’t get a cent out of me.”
But ‘Bully’ Broom only smiled.
“Perhaps in a few days you’ll sing a different tune,” he said, and something, not in the words, but in the way they were uttered, sent a cold shiver down Jack’s spine.
