Excerpt: "Jack Ready was making his way home. He was a tall, well-set-up lad of sixteen, and when in a good mood was a wholesome, cheerful-looking youngster. But now, as he trudged along the rough, deeply rutted road that skirted the crowded wharves and slips of the Erie Basin, his attitude toward life was anything but amiable. "It just seems as if I get turned down everywhere," he muttered to himself as he turned aside to avoid a big automobile truck that was rumbling away from a squat, ugly-looking tank steamer lying at a dock not far off. "Too young, they all say. If only I could get a chance at a wireless key, I'd show them, but—Oh! what's the use! It's me for a shore berth till I'm old enough to try again, I guess. Hullo, what's the matter over there?" His attention had been caught by a sudden stir on the dock alongside the home-looking "tank." She was a type of oil carrier familiar to the boy, as many vessels of a similar sort docked in the Erie Basin, New York's biggest laying-up place for freight ships. This particular craft was black and powerful looking, with two pole masts bristling with derricks, and a tall funnel right astern painted black, with a red top. But it was not the appearance of the steamer that interested the boy. It was a sudden rush and stir on the wharf alongside that had arrested his steps."