Martin Crusoe. A Boy’s Adventure on Wizard Island - T.C. Bridges - ebook

Martin Crusoe. A Boy’s Adventure on Wizard Island ebook

T.C. Bridges

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A few minutes passed, and Martin, lazily tapping his pencil on paper, seemed to have little interest in sounds. Then suddenly his attitude changed, his back straightened, and a look of passionate interest illuminated his sharp gray eyes. The door of the large room opened, and a boy came in quickly, a boy about the same age as Martin, but as dark and thin as Martin, tall and bright.

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Liczba stron: 277

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Contents

I. THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES

II. THE GREAT ADVENTURE BEGINS

III. THE MYSTERIOUS ISLAND

IV. THE PAINTED HALL

V. THE GOLDEN GIANTS

VI. IN THE HANDS OF THE ENEMY

VII. THE HORROR OF THE HEIGHTS

VIII. BATTLE ROYAL

IX. BREAD AND SALT

X. THE LAKE OF FIRE

XI. AKON'S DECISION

XII. THE PRIEST'S PLAN

XIII. THE CHANCE PASSES

XIV. ORDEAL BY FIRE

XV. THE POWDER PLOT

XVI. MARTIN PLAYS A LONE HAND

XVII. THE PLACE OF DEATH

XVIII. THE WISDOM OF THE EAST

XIX. THE SECOND BOMB

XX. MARTIN PLAYS THE GAME

XXI. A FORCED LANDING

XXII. A BATTLE OF GIANTS

XXIII. – THE WAVE

XXIV. A DESPERATE VENTURE

XXV. A NIGHT OF TERROR

XXVI. THE ESCAPE FROM THE CAVE

XXVII. IN THE NICK OF TIME

XXVIII. MOBBED

XXIX. THE RESCUE

XXX. IN THE HEART OF THE GLADES

XXXI. THE CONFESSION

I. THE MYSTERIOUS MESSAGES

WITH the telephones of his wireless fixed over his ears, a pencil in his hand, and a writing-pad before him, Martin Vaile sat listening to the signals that came through.

Some minutes passed, and Martin, tapping idly on the paper with his pencil, seemed little interested in the sounds. Then suddenly his attitude changed, his back straightened, and a look of eager interest lit his keen gray eyes.

His pencil began to work, and he rapidly jotted down a series of figures and letters on the paper.

Then he stopped writing and sat waiting, but nothing more came, and, glancing at his watch, he noted the time, slipped off the receiver, and ran his fingers through his close, curly hair.

The door of the big room opened, and a boy came quickly in, a boy about Martin’s age, but as dark and slight as Martin was tall and fair.

“That you, Basil?” said Martin quickly. “I’m glad you’ve come.”

Basil Loring gave the other a quick glance.

“What’s the matter, old man?” he asked lightly. “Why this frown on your marble brow? What horrible news have you been absorbing out of space?”

“Nothing horrible, Basil, but something most unthinkably baffling. I’ve just had the sixth message from the unknown sender.”

“The sixth message?” repeated Basil, looking puzzled. “What in the name of sense are you talking about?”

“Oh, I forgot. You’ve not been here for a week, and don’t know anything about it. Well, every night for six nights past I have had a message from this unknown station. It gives the latitude and longitude, and says ‘Help! Come to me!’„

“Sounds like an S.O.S., Martin. Is it a ship in trouble?”

“Bless you, no. Nothing of the sort. This is from a much more powerful installation than any ship has. Besides, it isn’t a ship. The tuning is different.”

“That’s Greek to me,” said Basil. “Explain.”

“Well, you know we use different length waves for wireless work, and ships use comparatively short waves. By adjusting my apparatus, I can cut those out completely, so that all I catch is from the giant land stations such as the Eiffel Tower or Washington. Their wavelengths are much greater, and cannot be heard with the ordinary adjustment. The other night, as an experiment, I tried an even wider adjustment, and then came this mysterious message, or, rather, the duplicate of it; and each night since, just at the same hour, it has come again. As I told you, this is the sixth.”

Basil stared. “I understand about the waves,” he said. “But surely, Martin, if this is a big station that you are hearing from, it’s easy enough to find where it is! All the big stations are known, aren’t they?”

“This one isn’t,” Martin answered. “I can tell you this much: if the sender states his position correctly, it’s right in the middle of the sea.”

This time Basil was startled.

“If that’s the case, it must be from a ship. And yet you say that it’s from a big installation.”

Suddenly his face cleared. “Tell you what, Martin, it’s someone having a joke with you–some fellow in one of the other big stations playing a game.”

Martin shook his head decidedly.

“It’s not that, Basil. The message does come from the spot it is supposed to come from, or from that neighborhood. You see, nowadays, we are able to tell pretty accurately the direction of wireless signals. I have made experiments during the past week, and, as far as I can gather, the station is exactly where the sender says it is.”

“Then there must be an island there,” said Basil.

“If there is, it is not on my map, and, mind you, I have looked up the best government charts.”

Basil shook his head helplessly.

“It’s beyond me, Martin,” he said. “Show me the spot on the map.”

Martin took a chart out of a drawer and unrolled it. It represented that vast tract of the North Atlantic Ocean between the Canary Islands and the Bermudas, between twenty and thirty degrees north. Near the center of this, but a little to the west, Martin had made a tiny cross in pencil.

“There’s the spot,” he said.

Basil looked at it for some moments. “Why,” he said slowly, “that’s in the Sargasso Sea.”

Martin nodded.

“Exactly. It is right in the center of that tremendous plain of weed which is drifted by circling currents into that dead water, and covers more than a million square miles. That is where the mysterious island must be, and that is the spot from which these queerly-tuned messages must be reaching me.”

Basil stared first at the map and then at Martin.

“If the island is not charted, the only reason can be that the weed has prevented ships from getting to it,” he said. “And if ships can’t get to it, how in the name of sense has this fellow got there? And if he has got there, how did he ever get his wireless there, or put it up?”

“Just the questions I have been asking myself, Basil, and just the questions I mean to solve before I am very much older. I hope to be on that island within a month.”

“You’re going there?” cried Basil. “But how? Of course, you have the yacht, but she can’t travel through the weed any more than any other ship.”

“True, my boy. But if one can’t travel through the weed the other way is to travel over it.”

Basil’s eyes shone.

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