Wireless Officer , livre ebook

The Floating Press - F. Westerman Percy

Découvre YouScribe en t'inscrivant gratuitement

Je m'inscris

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

177 pages

English

Vous pourrez modifier la taille du texte de cet ouvrage

Obtenez un accès à la bibliothèque pour le consulter en ligne
En savoir plus

A propos
Informations
Extrait

Description

If you're a fan of action-adventure tales set in battle, don't miss Percy F. Westerman's The Wireless Officer. Having himself served as an officer in the Royal Navy, the author brings an unparalleled level of realism and detail to this thrilling account of one man's contribution to the war effort.

Sujets

Adventure (Guyana)

Adventure

Informations

Publié par	The Floating Press
Date de parution	01 août 2013
Nombre de lectures	0
EAN13	9781776528462
Langue	English

Informations légales : prix de location à la page 0,0134€. Cette information est donnée uniquement à titre indicatif conformément à la législation en vigueur.

Extrait

THE WIRELESS OFFICER
* * *
PERCY F. WESTERMAN

*
The Wireless Officer First published in 1922 ISBN 978-1-77652-846-2 © 2013 The Floating Press and its licensors. All rights reserved. While every effort has been used to ensure the accuracy and reliability of the information contained in The Floating Press edition of this book, The Floating Press does not assume liability or responsibility for any errors or omissions in this book. The Floating Press does not accept responsibility for loss suffered as a result of reliance upon the accuracy or currency of information contained in this book. Do not use while operating a motor vehicle or heavy equipment. Many suitcases look alike. Visit www.thefloatingpress.com
Contents
*
Chapter I - Good News Chapter II - The Eavesdropper Chapter III - Reporting for Duty Chapter IV - The Greenhorns Chapter V - Under Way Chapter VI - A Night of Peril Chapter VII - "Logged" Chapter VIII - The Passengers Chapter IX - A Quiet Trick Chapter X - The Unheeded SOS Chapter XI - The Old Man is Disturbed Chapter XII - The Code-Book Chapter XIII - Crossing the Line Chapter XIV - Mostyn to the Rescue Chapter XV - Unpopularity Chapter XVI - Hot Work in No. 1 Hold Chapter XVII - The Decoy Wireless Chapter XVIII - The Difference of a Dot Chapter XIX - Peter's Progress Chapter XX - An Eventful River Trip Chapter XXI - The End of S.S. "West Barbican" Chapter XXII - A Night of Horror Chapter XXIII - Peter Takes Charge of Things Chapter XXIV - Tidings from the Sea Chapter XXV - Riding it Out Chapter XXVI - Mostyn's Watch Chapter XXVII - Aground Chapter XXVIII - The Island Chapter XXIX - Repairs and Renewals Chapter XXX - The Voyage is Resumed Chapter XXXI - Picked Up at Sea Chapter XXXII - The Dhow Chapter XXXIII - A Fight to a Finish Chapter XXXIV - Olive Deals with the Situation Chapter XXXV - The End of the Voyage Chapter XXXVI - A Round of Surprises Chapter XXXVII - How the Steelwork Arrived Chapter XXXVIII - The Completion of the Contract
Chapter I - Good News
*
"Hurrah!" exclaimed Peter Mostyn. "Now, this does look likebusiness."
"It does, Mr. Mostyn," agreed the postmistress. "It seems as if we areto lose you again."
"And about time too," added the youth, as he ripped open the long,buff-coloured envelope bearing the words "Broughborough InternationalMarine Telegraph Company".
Peter Mostyn had been "on the beach" for nearly six months. In otherwords, he was out of a berth. Not that it was any fault of his that apromising and energetic young wireless officer should be without a shipfor such a protracted period. An unprecedented slump in Britishshipping—when hundreds of vessels flying the Red Ensign were laid up,while the bulk of the world's trade was carried by the mercantile fleetof Germany—had resulted, amongst other ills, in the wholesale"sacking" of officers and men, who to a great extent had been the meansof warding off the grim spectre of starvation during those black yearsof the World War.
Five times a week for over four months Peter Mostyn had ridden intoTrentham Regis village in the hope of securing the long-expectedmissive giving him an appointment to another ship.
And now the anxiously awaited communication had arrived. Thepostmistress, a good, kindly soul to whom the affairs of every man,woman, and child in the Trentham Regis postal area were open secrets,was almost as excited as the recipient, when she handed the envelopeover the counter between the piles of groceries that comprised thecommercial side of the shop.
For a brief instant Peter was assailed by the dread that the envelopewould contain a stereotyped announcement to the effect that hisapplication was still under consideration; then a look of undisguisedrelief and gratification overspread his tanned features.
"Yes, Mrs. Young!" he exclaimed; "I'm off in three days' time. Where?I hardly know, but I rather fancy it's East Africa. Good evening."
Leaving the postmistress to spread the news amongst the good folk ofTrentham Regis—a feat that she would certainly accomplish to herunbounded satisfaction before the post office closed for thenight—Peter mounted his motor-bicycle and rode after the fashion ofthe long departed Jehu, the son of Nimshi, leaving behind him a longtrail of chalky dust in the still evening air. Short of wireless itwas doubtful whether the good news could have reached "The Pines" inless time, for within the space of five and a half minutes Peter hadcovered the three miles that separated his home from Trentham Regis.
"Hello, Mater!" he exclaimed, bursting into the house like a youngtyphoon. "Where are you? Ah, there you are! I've got it!"
There was no need for Mrs. Mostyn to ask for further enlightenment uponthe cryptic "it". She guessed the news at once.
"I'm so glad, Peter!" she exclaimed. "What ship this time?"
"The West Barbican , Mater. I fancy she's one of the Blue CrescentLine. If so, it's East Africa and possibly India, this trip. 'Tanyrate, I'm to join her before noon on Thursday. Where's the Pater?"
"Not back from town yet. There was a board meeting on this afternoon."
"Oh yes, I remember. About the Kilba Protectorate contract. I supposehe'll return by the 8.50.... By Jove! What a topping stunt! Fancygetting a ship again after all this time. Of course, Mother, it wasnice to be home again, but, after all, it's a jolly long time to bekicking one's heels on the beach, isn't it?"
Mrs. Mostyn agreed, but solely upon her son's account. She was in nohurry to send her boy to sea again, but she realized that it was forhis good that he should once more adventure upon the ocean. Coming ofa seafaring family that for generations past had sent its sons down tothe sea in ships—often never to return—she realized more than a goodmany mothers what was meant by the call of the great waters. She haddrunk deeply of the cup of sorrow when the S.S. Donibristle , of whichPeter was wireless officer, had been reported overdue and missing, andwas afterwards given out by Lloyd's as a total loss. And in due coursePeter had returned home, modestly making light of his hairbreadthadventures, his chief complaint being that the BroughboroughInternational Marine Telegraph Company had not thought fit to appointhim to a ship belonging to the same fleet as did the S.S. Donibristle .
Peter's father, John Mostyn, was a retired Engineer Captain, R.N., who,having severed his connection with the navy at the conclusion of theGreat War, had become one of the managing directors of the BrocklingtonIronworks Company.
For a while the affairs of the newly formed company had flourished.Then came the inevitable slump. Labour troubles and foreigncompetition added to the difficulties of the firm. The reserve capitaldwindled until there were barely sufficient funds to meet the weeklywages bill. Things looked black—decidedly so; but never once did thegloomy outlook daunt the cheery optimism of retired Engineer CaptainJohn Mostyn.
When the fortunes of the Brocklington Ironworks Company seemed at theirlowest ebb, the firm had an invitation to tender for a big contract forthe recently formed Kilba Protectorate. Comprising a vast extent ofterritory on the East Coast of Africa, Kilba was making a bold bid forprosperity under British rule. Amongst other schemes for thedevelopment of the country was the proposed construction of a railwaylinking up the coast with the rich mineral lands of the interior. Oneof the natural difficulties in the way of the railroad was theKilembonga Gorge, where the river of that name flows with greatimpetuosity between sheer walls of rock rising two hundred feet abovethe turgid stream. The bed of the river was of shifting sand, so that,even if the difficulty of the current could be overcome, there remainedthe question of how to build solid piers on such a doubtful foundation.Finally it was decided to throw a cantilever bridge across the chasm.
Accordingly, the Kilba Protectorate Government asked tenders for theconstruction of the necessary steelwork, including delivery upon thesite. British, American, Italian, Japanese, and German firms wereinvited to contract, although it was difficult to see why the KilbaGovernment should have asked these last to quote a price. It was notuntil later that a reason was forthcoming.
Among the British firms to tender was the Brocklington IronworksCompany, and it was then that Captain Mostyn seized his opportunity.He foresaw that a successful carrying out of the contract would be theturning-point of the firm's fortunes—that the kudos derived from thatprosperous enterprise would give the Brocklington Ironworks Company aworld-wide advertisement and place them at the forefront of engineeringcontracting firms.
Upon putting the circumstances of the case before hisbrother-directors, Captain Mostyn carried his point. He told them thatthe immediate financial results of the contract would be small—infact, almost insignificant—but once having beaten all rivals, Britishand foreign, the future success of the company was assured.
"Capital?" echoed Captain Mostyn, in answer to a question from one ofhis fellow-directors. "Capital? We can find the capital. It will bea tight squeeze, a terribly tight squeeze, but we'll do it with aslight margin to spare. Let me have a talk with the men, and I'llwarrant that, if they have the good sense I credit them with, we'llpull the thing off successfully."
Without delay the managing director went down to Brocklington, where hehad what he called a straight talk with the firm's employees. He toldthem straight that if their whole-hearted co-operation were notforthcoming the works would have to close down, and that, with thepresent state of unemployment, it would be difficult, almostimpossible, for the six hundred hands to find work elsewhere.
"I'm asking you to make sacrifices," he went on. "For the presentneither the directors nor the shareholders are making money, andnaturally we cannot run this business as a charity concern. Itherefore propose a gener