The Pirate Shark | Page 4

mines--Oh, what's the use! I'm dreaming!"
CHAPTER II
JERRY SMITH, QUARTERMASTER
"How's she coming? It's 'most noon, Mart."
"Huh? Oh, she's great. I can't find anything wrong, except a little rust. I'll take a look at that transmitting jigger and send out a flash, I guess."
"What's the transmitting jigger?"
"This--the oscillation transformer. It transfers the primary circuit energy, which has low potential, to the aerial circuit, where it reaches a mighty high potential at the free insulated end--"
"Hey! What d'you think I am--a walking 'cyclopaedia?" broke in Bob indignantly. "Cut out that high-flown talk with me, Mart, and get down to where I can collect on you. Going to send a message?"
"Golly, no!" returned Mart, busily, adjusting his current. "We'd have the port officers down on us in a jiffy. It's all right to pick up messages, but to do any private monkey-work by sendin' them is liable to get a fellow in bad. No, I'm just going to see that the sparker's workin' right--"
"Never mind a technical description," broke in Bob. "Just go ahead and I'll be satisfied to watch. But when you get through, there's some stuff down in the cabin that you might like to look over."
"All right," grunted the other, pressing down his key. The blue spark leaped out for a long moment, but Mart was careful not to break it, and with a satisfied nod he threw off the current. The Seamew's wireless, in spite of a year of disuse, was in splendid shape; like other merchant ship stations of modern type, it was almost perfect in its conveniences. The whole transmitting apparatus, from the generator to the aerial tuning inductance, was in a special silence cabinet; this not only kept the noise of the spark and generator down, but shut off all high-tension apparatus from the operator. Mart explained this at some length to his chum.
"It's strictly fool-proof, so I'll give you some lessons when we get out in the ocean," he grinned. "We can send messages all we please there, but not in port."
"Well, you come along down to the cabin," returned Bob ungraciously. He had no knowledge of things mechanical, and no liking for them. His tastes ran to athletics, and by careful cultivation of his body he had made himself the physical equal, or nearly so, of Mart Judson, whose strength and alertness were entirely natural.
Leaving the wireless house, which was on the upper bridge deck just abaft the chart house and signal locker, the two boys slid down the ladders to the lower deck. Cases of provisions and supplies were being slung down the fore hold by the steam winch, and except for the two mates and a couple of wharf hands, no one was in sight. The engine-room crew was aboard, together with the Chinese steward, but the crew of a dozen men would not come aboard until the next night.
Indeed, the principal use for a crew aboard the Seamew was to keep the brasswork polished and the decks holystoned, it seemed to Mart. Everything was done by steam-power; while the wheel-house had a helm, the steam steering-gear was used entirely, the anchor was worked by steam, and the boats and launch carried on the bridge deck could be swung out by the same power.
"What's waiting for us?" queried Mart as they turned to the after companionway leading to the cabins.
"You come along and see," returned Bob Hollinger mysteriously. "Dad's gone uptown, so we got the craft to ourselves right now."
Mart followed his friend down into the cabin, then stopped suddenly and caught his breath. A big mahogany chest stood open at one side, and on the table was laid out an astonishing array of hunting supplies. There were guns of every conceivable size and shape, it seemed to him. He picked up the first to hand and examined it, while Bob excitedly explained.
"That's a Mannlicher-Schoener. It's dad's favorite for big game, Mart."
"Huh!" exclaimed Mart critically. "She ain't much bigger'n the old twenty-two I used to have, Holly. I'll eat all the big game your dad ever shoots with that gun!"
"Don't you believe it! That's the Austrian army gun--she's a two-fifty-six caliber cordite, hasn't any kick to speak of, and they use it on elephants in Africa. Why, she'll kill at a mile, Mart!"
"Mebbe," and Mart doubtfully laid the weapon down. "You'll have to show me first, though. Whew! this looks like a regular hardware shop! That's a beaut of a shotgun."
While it hardly seemed possible that the Austrian gun could be all Bob said, Mart knew that his chum was well posted. However, there were guns of all sizes and kinds, from target rifles to heavy twenty-gauge Parker shotguns, as well as four ugly-looking automatic pistols. Besides these there were half a dozen long hunting-knives, bandoliers, belts, and other articles of equipment.
"Dad sent