Larry Dexter's Great Search Part 1

Larry Dexter's Great Search.

by Howard R. Garis.

PREFACE

Dear Boys:

I hope you will be glad to read of the further adventures of Larry Dexter. He has made some progress since you first made his acquaintance in the book "From Office Boy to Reporter." He has also advanced in his chosen profession from the days when he did his first news-gathering for the _Leader_. In this volume he is sent on a "special a.s.signment," as it is called. He has to find a New York millionaire who has mysteriously disappeared.

How Larry solved the strange secret, I have woven into a story that I trust will be liked by all the boys who read it. I have taken many incidents from real life for this story, using some of my own experiences while a newspaper reporter as a basis for facts.

The things that happened to Larry are not at all out of the ordinary among reporters. The life has many strange surprises in it.

If I have been able to set them down in a way that will please you boys, and if you enjoy following the further fortunes of Larry Dexter, I shall feel amply repaid for my efforts on this volume.

Yours sincerely,

HOWARD R. GARIS.

LARRY DEXTER'S GREAT SEARCH

CHAPTER I

THE WRECK

Into the city room of the New York _Leader_ hurried Mr. Whiggen, the telegraph editor. In his hand was a slip of paper, containing a few typewritten words. Mr. Whiggen laid it on the desk of Bruce Emberg, the city editor.

"Just came in over our special wire," said Mr. Whiggen. "Looks as if it might be a bad wreck. That's a dangerous coast. I thought you might like to send one of your men down to cover it."

"Thanks," replied the city editor. "I will. Let's see," and, while he read the message, a score of reporters in the room looked up to see what had caused the telegraph editor to come in with such a rush.

This is what Mr. Emberg read from the slip Mr. Whiggen handed him:

"BULLETIN.--S.S. _Olivia_ ash.o.r.e off Seven Mile Beach, on sand bar.

Big steerage list, some cabin pa.s.sengers--fruit cargo. s.h.i.+p badly listed, but may get off at high tide. If not, liable to break up in storm. Pa.s.sengers safe yet.--a.s.sOCIATED PRESS."

There followed a brief description of the vessel, compiled from the maritime register, giving her tonnage, size, and when built.

"Um," remarked Mr. Emberg when he had read the short message, which was what newspaper men call a "flash" or bulletin, intended to notify the journals of the barest facts of the story. "This looks as if it would amount to something. I'll send a man down. Have we any one there?"

"We've got a man in Ocean City," replied the telegraph editor, "but I'm afraid I can't reach him. Have to depend on the a.s.sociated Press until we can get some one down."

"All right, I'll send right away."

The telegraph editor went back to his sanctum on the run, for it was near first-edition time and he wanted to get a display head written for the wreck story. Mr. Emberg looked over the room, in which many reporters were at work, most of them typewriting stories as fast as their fingers could fly over the keys. Several of the news-gatherers who had heard the conversation between the two editors hoped they might be sent on that a.s.signment, for though it meant hard work it was a chance to get out of the city for a while.

"Are you up, Newton?" asked Mr. Emberg of a reporter in the far corner of the room.

"No, I've got that political story to write yet."

"That's so. I can't spare you. How about you, Larry?"

"I'm up," was the answer, which is the newspaper man's way of saying his particular task is finished.

"Here, then, jump out on this," and the city editor handed the telegram to a tall, good-looking youth, who arose from his desk near a window.

Larry Dexter, who had risen from the rank of office boy to reporter, took in the message at a glance.

"Shall I start now?" he asked.

"As soon as you can get a train. Seven Mile Beach is down on the Jersey coast, near Anglesea. You can't get there in time to wire us anything for to-day, but rush a good story for to-morrow. If a storm comes up, and they have to rescue the pa.s.sengers, it will make a corker. Don't be afraid of slinging your words if it turns out worth while. Here's an order on the cas.h.i.+er for some money. Hustle now,"

and Mr. Emberg scribbled down something on a slip of paper which he handed to the young reporter.

"Leave the message in the telegraph room as you go out," went on the city editor. "Mr. Whiggen may want it. Hustle now, Larry, and do your best."

Many envious eyes followed Larry Dexter as he hurried out of the city room, putting on his coat and hat as he went, for he had been working in his s.h.i.+rt sleeves.

Larry went down the long corridor, stopping in the telegraph room to leave the message which was destined to be responsible for his part in a series of strange events. He had little idea, as he left the _Leader_ office that morning, that his a.s.signment to get the story of the wreck was the beginning of a singular mystery.

Larry cashed the order Mr. Emberg had given him, and hurried to the railroad station. He found there was no train for an hour, and, telephoning to the city editor to that effect, received permission to go home and get some extra clothing, as he might have to stay away several days.

The young reporter rather startled his mother as he hurried in to tell her he was going out of town, but Mrs. Dexter had, in a measure, become used to her son doing all sorts of queer things since he had started in newspaper life.

"Will you be gone long, Larry?" she asked, as he kissed her good-bye, having packed a small valise.

"Can't say, mother. Probably not more than two days."

"Bring me some sea sh.e.l.ls," begged Larry's brother, Jimmie, a bright little chap.

"And I want a lobster and a crab and a starfish," spoke Mary, a sunny-haired toddler.

"All right, and I'll bring Lucy some sh.e.l.ls to make beads of,"

answered Larry, mentioning his older sister, who was not at home.

Larry found he had not much time left to catch his train, and he was obliged to hurry to the ferry which took him to Jersey City. There he boarded a Pennsylvania Railroad train, and was soon being whirled toward the coast.

Seven Mile Beach was a rather dangerous stretch of the Jersey sh.o.r.e, not far from Cape May. There were several lighthouses along it, but they did not always prevent vessels from running on a long sand bar, some distance out. More than one gallant s.h.i.+p had struck far up on it, and, being unable to get off, had been pounded to pieces by the waves.

By inquiring Larry found that the wreck of the _Olivia_ was just off a lonely part of the coast, and that there were no railroad stations near it.

"Where had I better get off?" he asked, of the conductor.

"Well, you can get off at Sea Isle City, or Sackett's Harbor. Both stations are about five miles from where the s.h.i.+p lies, according to all accounts. Then you can walk."