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II
Sunk by Radio
No, RADIOITE, it was not John Hays Hammond's radio torpedo in action, nor was it the German submarine U-io sent to the bottom by the dupHcity and cunning of a British torpedo boat destroyer. It was a peace-time incident. It occurred off the semitropical and balmy coast of one of the Bahama Islands, and it was for the "movies" and in order that you, John, Maggie, and little Jimmie might be thrilled some evening while sitting in the little red "movie" house around the corner.
One morning of January, 1914, the tramp steamer Camaguey dropped anchor off Nassau, and the crew proceeded to the pleasant pastime of leaning over the rail while waiting for the local boarding authorities to come out from shore to pass inspection, preliminary to discharging a general cargo of merchandise. Close by lay a huge sailing boat painted the most vivid yellow imaginable, a yellow which covered sail, mast, body and all superstructure. What looked like lazy sailors were stationed here and there perfectly' motionless and likewise clothed in the saffron scheme of the rest of the outfit. It was a strange sight this yellow "flying Dutchman" riding peacefully at anchor while the early sunlight played beams here and there on its vast expanse of yellow-hued sail.
The last rumble of the Camagney' s anchor chain had no sooner died down to respectable quietness when a speedy launch darted out from the other side of the yellow ship and
turned its bow toward the Camaguey, full speed ahead. In a short time the launch reached the side of the bigger craft and an excited individual jumped up from the stern end and yelled to the Captain to move the position of his ship to a point as distant as possible from the yellow craft as something drastic was about to happen. The e. i. being dressed in the office of a local authority, the Captain of the Camaguey accordingly picked up anchor again and moved to another point of the bay.
Meanwhile, the wireless operator had observed that the yellow craft was equipped with a radio antenna. Following the strong instincts of his kind and wondering what it was all about, he accordingly repaired to his "radio shack" and with his gaze centered on the strange craft began to call "CQ, CO, CQ," which is the general call asking any one within hearing distance to reply.
For answer, he heard a loud, sonorous spark of close proximity telling him to please stop sending for at least 15 minutes. The operator continued to gaze out of the porthole across the calm surface of the lagoon at the yellow ship as if fascinated and with the head telephone receivers still on his ears.
Presently he heard a series of unintelligible dashes, sent slowly and perfectly timed, one following the other, then silence, then a few dots, then more dashes. It was all very strange, for they seemed to be so close that he reasoned they were being transmitted bv the
Radio antenna among the palm trees in the Bahamas