Boy Aviators Polar Dash | Page 9

the boy looked round.
On the edge of the hatch sat Billy and beside him, his head sunk in his
hands, was Harry.
"What's the matter with you fellows?" demanded Frank.
At that instant an unusually large breaker came rolling towards the
Southern Cross and caught her fair and square on the side of the bow.

Deep laden as she was it broke over her and a wall of green water came
tumbling and sweeping along the decks. Frank avoided it by leaping
upward and seizing a stanchion used to secure the framework holding
down the deck load.
But neither Harry nor Billy moved, except a few minutes later when
another heavy roll sent them sliding into the scuppers.
"Come, you fellows, you'd better get up, and turn in aft," said Frank.
"Oh, leave me alone," groaned Billy.
"I'm going to die, I think," moaned Harry.
At this moment the new steward, a raw boy from Vermont, who had
been at sea for several years, came up to where the two boys were
suffering.
"Breakfast's ready," he announced, "there's some nice fat bacon and
fried eggs and jam and----"
It was too much. With what strength they had left Billy and Harry
tumbled to their feet and aimed simultaneous blows at him.
It was a final effort and as the Southern Cross plunged onward toward
her mysterious goal she carried with her two of the most sea-sick boys
ever recorded on a ship's manifest.
CHAPTER IV.
A MESSAGE FROM THE AIR.
It was a bright, sunshiny morning a week later. The Southern Cross was
now in sub-tropic waters, steaming steadily along under blue skies and
through smooth azure water flecked here and there with masses of
yellow gulf weed.
The boys were in a group forward watching the flying fish that fled like

coveys of frightened birds as the bow of the polar ship cut through the
water. Under Dr. Gregg's care Billy and Harry had quite recovered
from their sea-sickness.
"Off there to the southeast somewhere is the treasure galleon and the
Sargasso Sea," said Harry, indicating the purplish haze that hung on the
horizon. [Footnote: See Vol. 4 of this series, The Boy Aviators'
Treasure Quest; or, The Golden Galleon.]
"Yes, and off there is the South Pole," rejoined Frank, pointing due
south, "I wish the old Southern Cross could make better speed, I'm
impatient to be there."
"And I'm impatient to solve some of the mystery of this voyage," put in
Billy, "here we've been at sea a week and Captain Hazzard hasn't told
us yet anything about that--that,--well you know, that ship you spoke
about, Frank."
"He will tell us all in good time," rejoined the other, "and now instead
of wasting speculation on something we are bound not to find out till
we do find it out, let's go aft to the wireless room and polish up a bit."
The Southern Cross carried a wireless apparatus which had been
specially installed for her polar voyage. The aerials stretched from her
main to mizzen mast and a small room, formerly a storeroom, below
the raised poop containing the cabins had been fitted up for a wireless
room. In this the boys had spent a good deal of time during their
convalescence from sea-sickness and had managed to "pick-up" many
vessels within their radius,--which was fifteen hundred miles under
favorable conditions.
Frank was the first to clap on the head-receiver this morning and he sat
silently for a while absently clicking out calls, to none of which he
obtained an answer. Suddenly, however, his face grew excited.
"Hullo," he cried, "here's something."
"What?" demanded Harry.

"I don't know yet," he held up his hand to demand silence.
"That's queer," he exclaimed, after a pause, in which the receiver had
buzzed and purred its message into his ear.
The others looked their questions.
"There's something funny about this message," he went on. "I cannot
understand it. Whoever is calling has a very weak sending current. I
can hardly hear it. One thing is certain though, it's someone in distress."
The others leaned forward eagerly, but their curiosity was not satisfied
immediately by Frank. Instead his face became set in concentration
once more. After some moments of silence, broken only by the slight
noise of the receiver, he pressed his hand on the sending apparatus and
the Southern Cross's wireless began to crackle and spit and emit a
leaping blue flame.
"What's he sending?" asked Billy, turning to Harry.
"Wait a second," was the rejoinder. The wireless continued to crackle
and flash.
"Cracky," suddenly cried Harry, "hark at that, Billy."
"What," sputtered the reporter, "that stuff doesn't mean anything to me.
What's he done, picked up a ship or a land station or what?"
"No," was the astounding response, "he's picked up