Argosy and Railroad Man's Magazine, Vol. 107 No. 3 — page 109: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

THE SHIP THAT CRUMBLED. they will almost see the waves closing over our mastheads.”’ | “* Precisely!” grunted Murdock. “The only logical objection I can raise to that,” went on Riley slowly, “is that a dozen ships will at once put to our assist- ance. Why, every destroyer on this side of the Racific will come hell-bent. Then what, sir?” The captain gave him a look of scorn. “ But thet don’t know where we're sink- ing!” hé almost shouted. Riley nadded his instant comprehension. “T see. We give them a fake position— tell them we’re fifty miles southwest of the Golden Gate, for example, when, as a mat- ter of fact, we’re nearly sixty miles due west of our supposed point of foundering.” Captain Murdock clapped his large hands. ‘What do you think of that scheme? Worked it out all alone, Riley! Will it work — from the wireless point of view?” Donn Riley wrinkled his forehead. “I can’t say yes positively. It will, only on one condition. If.the gunboats in the Pa- cific have direction finders, as we call ’em, attached to their regular equipment, they can find us.” Captain Murdock’s expression plainly revealed his ignorance of this new wireless fad. “Direction finders,” explained Riley, ‘will point out a ship as readily as a com- pass will point out the magnetic pole. Of course, they’re not precise; they’re good within ten degrees sometimes. Too close for comfort, though. I know that the gun- boats on the Atlantic are being equipped with direction finders as an aid in spotting submarines.” ‘But they must hear the U-boat’s wire- less, eh?” put in Captain Murdock. Riley nodded. ‘“ Every morning or eve- ning the subs come to the surface, rig their aerials, and flash doings of the day to the big stations at Kiel and Wilhelmshaven. The shore stations of the Allies and most Allied war-ships are equipped with direc- tion-finders. They hear the subs, one at a time, get an approximate bearing on them, then compare notes. “In the Admiralty Building, in London, 451 is a big chart stuck full of tiny, red-headed pins. Each of those red pms indicates ap- proximately the position of a U-boat. So you can see how nicely our exact position could be found by the stations roundabout here, no matter how cleverly we lied, pro- vided they cared to go to the trouble.”’ Captain Murdock was examining him with great interest. He shook his head doubtfully. ‘ Are those gadgets hard con- trivances to operate?” Riley nodded. “It takes a man who knows both wireless and navigation. He must be able to box a compass forward and backward.” “Well, then,” summarized the captain, with a deep breath of relief, ‘“‘ we'll pre- sume that you are going to make your de- scription of the sinking so damned real- istic and exciting that they'll forget all about their new-fangled dingdabs. They’! just crawl all over each other getting ships to the empty spot on the ocean where we say we're sinking.” “That’s up to me,” confirmed Riley. “What next?” ‘“‘ What next? Did you hear me mention fresh paint when you came forward a couple hours ago? By morning we will no longer be aboard the rusty, God-forgatten, disreputable tramp, the Barracouda, of Salina Cruz, Mexico. By morning a brand- new ship—all but her clanking old insides -—will have grown up out of this ocean in place of her. She’ll be a trim, smart steam- er; she'll be the Barnegat, of Boston, bound from Cordova, Alaska, to San Juan del Sur, for example, to pick up a cargo of mahog- any for the Boston cabinetmakers! ” “When did we clear Cordova?” ‘Three weeks ago, light. Discharged a cargo of copper-mine tools from Balti- more.” Riley considered this. ‘‘ What happens if a destroyer picks us up in the morning and sends a crew aboard? Have you cov- ered that? I’m willing to go the limit, but by flashing that fake distress call I'll have violated my oath as a licensed professional operator. There’s a twenty-year sentence attached to that trifling misdemeanor.”’ Captain Murdock threw up his hands. “Do you know what’s attached to the tri- N (C(O) NOO S Co mM