Public-domain ebook
Language: en309 downloads on Project Gutenberg
Subjects
In: Children & Young Adult Reading·Adventure
Public-domain ebook sourced from Project Gutenberg #62904.
The opening · free to read
All of the wondrous possibilities of radio are covered in this thrilling tale which deals with the latest adventures of The Radio Boys. It is a story well told, particularly in connection with the description of the collision at sea which precipitated the experience of the boys in the field of ice.
Of all the uses to which radio has been put, there is none more important than that in conjunction with the annual ice patrol in the steamship lanes of the Atlantic. Night and day the vessels from the various civilized nations engaged in this work vie with each other in devotion to duty in order that their efforts will save lives and property from danger on the high seas. Their sole medium of warning is the modern wonder of the world—radio.
The escapades of the boys in this book are extremely thrilling, but not particularly more so than is actually possible in every day life upon the seven seas.
Its appearance is extremely appropriate, because it is coincident with the announcement that the Coast Guard cutters, Tampa and Modoc, are now under orders to proceed to the region east of Newfoundland’s rugged shores where the ice from Greenland is swept down upon the frigid Labrador current across the steamship lanes to annihilation in the warmer southern waters. For the next three months these two vessels will go through the experiences detailed in “The Radio Boys with the Iceberg Patrol.”
The history of this patrol dates from the disaster which overtook the giant liner Titanic in April 1912, when that ill-fated ship struck the submerged ledge of an iceberg in mid-ocean on her maiden voyage. The gaping wound in her side was so large that she sank within thirty-five minutes after striking the iceberg, and more than 1,500 of her passengers and crew were drowned.
As a result of this appalling disaster a conference was called at which representatives of all maritime nations participated in London, and there the rules for this iceberg patrol were agreed upon. Every year from March until the end of July these vessels are engaged in their humane work, and since that fateful day in 1912, hundreds of steamships, large and small, have been saved from a similar fate by the timely warnings of Radio.
“Say, fellows, whom do you think I got a letter from?” cried Bob Layton, as he ran out of his front gate to meet a group of boys who were coming down the street.
“From the President of the United States, judging from the way you’re all worked up about it,” replied Joe Atwood, with a grin.
“My guess would be the King of England,” chimed in Jimmy Plummer.
“Quit your kidding!” exclaimed Bob. “They don’t know that I’m alive, and don’t care whether I am or not. The letter came from Paul Bentley.”
That Paul Bentley’s name was one to conjure with was evident from the keen interest that leaped into every face.
“Paul Bentley!” cried Joe. “What does he have to say? How are things going with the old scout?”
“Is he coming to Clintonia?” asked Herb Fennington, eagerly.
“No such luck,” Bob replied to the last question. “Say, maybe he wouldn’t get a welcome if he did! No, he’s still up in the Spruce Mountain district, fighting fires. Says they had a big one a couple of weeks ago, almost as bad as the one in which we fellows came so near to losing our lives.”
“It must have been a lallapaloozer then,” affirmed Jimmy. “I never believed anything could be nearly as bad as that. Gee, I feel hot flashes whenever I think of it. And I think of it pretty often, too. Sometimes I wake up in the night and begin sniffing around for smoke.”
“Same here,” chimed in Joe. “Whenever there was a fire in town I used to like to run to it. But not any more! I’ve had enough of fires to last me a lifetime.”
“We did have a pretty tough fight for life,” assented Bob. “What with the fire on one hand and the bears on the other, we had a mighty sight more of excitement than we bargained for.”
“Yet that’s what we went to Spruce Mountain to get,” observed Joe Atwood.
“We got it all right,” remarked Jimmy. “And yet, since we got out of it safely, I’m mighty glad we had the experience. And leaving the fire out of the account, what a whale of a good time we had! Good air, good eats, good company. Everything was good.”
“Everything?” queried Herb, with a tinge of skepticism.
“Sure!” declared Jimmy, stoutly. “Point out anything that wasn’t.”
“How about Buck Looker and Carl Lutz?” asked Herb, with a grin.
“They were good too,” asserted Jimmy. “Good for nothing. But, after all, they didn’t do us any real harm, though they tried hard enough. And I guess the scare they got in the fire took some of the meanness out of them.”
“I don’t know about that,” remarked Joe dubiously. “Buck was frightened ’most to death, and he was ready to promise almost anything. But probably that didn’t change his real nature. If he should get a chance to do us a bad turn, he’d probably do it, just as he always has. You’ve heard that old saying that the leopard can’t change its spots, haven’t you? Buck sure had a lot of spots.”
“Talk about angels, and they appear!” exclaimed Herb. “Here they come now.”
The four boys looked in the direction that Herb Fennington indicated, and saw two boys of about their own age coming down the street. The larger of the two was a heavily built, hulking fellow, with eyes set too close together and a look of the bully standing out all over him. The other was not so large in bulk, but quite as tall. His complexion was pasty and there was a furtive look about him that was anything but prepossessing.
“Fallen angels,” muttered Joe, in reply to Herb’s last remark. “I’ll bet at this moment they’re cooking up some low-down trick or other. They wouldn’t be happy if they weren’t. That’s their conception of having a good time.”
The two newcomers were coming along facing each other and tossing a baseball between them. The slenderer one, Carl Lutz, had his back toward the four friends, while the heavier one, Buck Looker, was facing them.
Just as they got about twenty feet from Bob Layton and his friends, Buck threw the ball well to one side of Lutz. Even at that, the latter could easily have stopped it, if he had wanted to. He made only a half-hearted offer at it, however, and the ball went swiftly past him and struck Jimmy Plummer full in the pit of the stomach.
The ball was hard thrown, and it doubled Jimmy up promptly. With a cry of pain, he fell to the sidewalk.
Bob sprang toward him to pick him up, while Joe glared wrathfully at Buck.
“That was a nice thing to do, wasn’t it?” he demanded.
“Aw, how could I help it!” growled Looker, not exhibiting the slightest compunction nor offering to go to Jimmy’s assistance. “He ought to have kept his eyes open and gotten out of the way.”
“I believe you did it on purpose,” broke in Herb.
“You can believe what you like,” snarled Buck. “How could I help it if Carl didn’t stop the ball?”
“It’s mighty funny that the first wild throw should come just as we were passing by,” observed Joe.
“And that it should be such a swift one,” added Herb. “You were just tossing the ball until you got near us. Then you let out with all your might. And Lutz didn’t even try to stop it.”
“I did make a try for it,” growled Lutz, though the look in his eyes did not bear out his statement.
They attempted to pass by, but Bob Layton barred the way.
“Just wait a minute,” he said. “Are you badly hurt, Jimmy?” he added, addressing his companion, whom he had helped to his feet.
The book keeps going
Reading is free forever. Sign up and watch scenes appear while you read.
Scenes Storieta drew for other classics.
New illustrated classics
Once or twice a month: the latest books to get full character casts, scene art, and free comic editions. No account needed.
