“I’ll go straight to the _Lycoming_,” said Roy to himself. “Even if I don’t know any of the men on board, they will at least be friendly.”
He hurried over to Ninth Avenue and caught a south-bound elevated railway train. In less than half an hour he left the train and made his way to the water-front. The vast expanse of asphalt known as “the farm,” that borders the Hudson for miles, was seething with traffic. Skilfully Roy picked his way across the wide thoroughfare, dodging trucks and drays, and heading straight for the big piers of the Confederated Steamship Lines.
The watchman at the entrance stopped him and demanded to know his business. Roy explained.
“Go on,” said the watchman, but he looked at Roy suspiciously.
Roy passed on into the great pier shed. At one side of the pier lay the _Lycoming_. Nobody paid the least attention to Roy. He made his way aboard the vessel.
“What do you want here?” asked a sailor gruffly, as he slouched on the gangway.
“He’s busy. Come around later,” replied the sailor.
“I’m the new wireless man,” explained Roy.
“I didn’t recognize you, sir,” said the sailor, instantly straightening up and touching his cap. “The captain is in his cabin. This way, sir.” And he led Roy to an upper deck.
“Come in,” said a gruff voice, in answer to Roy’s knock.
Roy pushed open the captain’s door and stepped inside the cabin. “I’m the new wireless man, Captain Lansford,” he said briefly. “My name is Roy Mercer.”
The ship’s commander rose to his feet. He was fully six feet tall and large of frame. His hair was black, and heavy, bushy, black brows almost hid his dark, piercing eyes. His nose was large and hawk-like. So weather-beaten was his skin that it seemed almost like leather. For a moment he uttered not a word, as he looked Roy over from head to foot. Then, in a tone of utter disgust, he said, “You--a wireless man! Bah! A wireless babe! I’ll see about this quick,” and he stalked angrily from the cabin.
“Wireless man! Bah!” repeated the captain as he hurried down the stairway. “Thirty years I’ve sailed the seas and the only wireless I ever saw was God’s lightning. Yet I never lost a man or a ship. The owners have ordered it, and I suppose I’ll have to put up with their newfangled machines. But I’ll be hanged if I’ll have an infant in arms to work ’em. That’s flat. I’ll tell those Marconi people what’s what.” And he bustled angrily off to the telephone in the office at the shoreward end of the pier shed.