The Telegraph Messenger Boy by Edward Sylvester Ellis (fantasy novels to read TXT) 📖

caught the notice of the people on the bank. Two sturdy watermen sprang into a boat and began fighting their way out to the helpless ones. It was a hard task, but they succeeded, and Ben and little Dolly Willard (as she had given her name) were safely taken off. A crowd waited to welcome them and they received every possible attention. Both were taken to the nearest farmhouse, where a kind-hearted mother took Dolly in charge, for the little one needed it sadly enough.

They were within half a mile of a village which was connected with Damietta by telegraph, and before Ben would do anything more than swallow a cup of hot coffee, and change his clothing, he was driven to the office, where he sent the message which was the first word we received in Damietta to tell us that he was alive.

I lost no time in hurrying to the humble dwelling of Mrs. Mayberry, where I made known the joyful tidings. I shall never forget the holy light which illumined the thin face as she clasped her hands in thankfulness and said:

"I had not given up all hope, but I was very near doing so."

Ben was driven into Damietta late that afternoon, where a royal welcome awaited him. He was cheered, shaken by the hand, and congratulated over and over again, and for a time it looked as though he would be pulled asunder. When he finally tore himself loose and rushed into our office, the operators and messenger boys were equally demonstrative, but he did not mind them.

I stood at my desk with a swelling heart, waiting for him. Suddenly he turned and caught my hand.

"He that is born to be hanged will never be drowned----"

He was laughing when he spoke the jest, but his voice trembled, and all at once he broke down. Quickly withdrawing both hands, he put them over his face and cried like a heartbroken child. He had stood it like a hero to this point, but now, with the crowd outside peering into the windows, he sobbed with uncontrollable emotion, while my own heart was too full to speak.

As soon as he could master himself he said:

"I must not wait any longer; mother expects me."

He was out of the door in a twinkling, and in a few minutes the mother and son were in each other's arms.

The reader may think that the most remarkable part of Ben Mayberry's adventure on the night of the flood has already been told, but it proved to be the beginning of a train of incidents of such an extraordinary nature that I hasten to make them known. There was a direct connection between his experience on that terrible night in February and the wonderful mystery in which he became involved, and which exercised such a marked influence on his after-life.

Fortunately, little Dolly Willard suffered no serious consequences from her frightful shock and exposure. She received such excellent care that she speedily recovered, and as soon as we could re-establish communication with Moorestown and engage her in conversation, we learned something of her history.

She lived in New York City and had come to Moorestown on a visit with her mother and Uncle George. He was the G. R. Burkhill who failed to receive the cipher dispatch which Ben Mayberry undertook to deliver to him on that eventful night.

Dolly said her father was dead, or had been gone from home a very long time. Uncle George claimed and took her to the city, first sending a cipher dispatch to a party in the metropolis, and directing me, in case of an answer, to hold it until he called or sent for it.

Two days later an answer arrived in the same mystic characters as before. As it has much to do with the incidents which follow, I give this remarkable telegram in full:

"New York, February 28th,----

"George R. Burkhill, Moorestown:

"Nvtu vzhs ujmm ezkk tbn gzr b adssdg dizodf rntsg zpvs azmj
xjmm jddo.

"Tom."

Cipher telegrams are sent every day in the week, and we did not concern ourselves with this particular one, which would have received no further thought, but for an odd circumstance.

On the day Mr. Burkhill sent his message to New York, he was followed into our office by a man who was shabbily dressed, and who impressed me as what is commonly called a "beat." He spoiled several blanks without sending a message and then abruptly tore them up, put the pieces in his pocket, and walked out after Mr. Burkhill.

He was in the office several times the succeeding two days, made some inquiries, and sent off a couple of messages. Just after Ben Mayberry had received the cipher telegram given above, I happened to look across my desk and observed that the fellow had taken every letter, marking it down, as he easily interpreted it by sound.

It was only by accident that I made this discovery, for the man acted precisely as if he were preparing a message to send away.


CHAPTER IX

THE TRANSLATION

Mr. G. R. Burkhill overwhelmed Ben Mayberry with thanks for the heroic manner in which he saved his niece and strove to save his sister. He offered the boy a handsome reward, but I am glad to say Ben refused to accept it. He promised to write the boy concerning the little one, but he must have forgotten his promise, as a long time passed without anything being heard from him.

When I discovered that the seedy lounger about our office had carefully taken down the cipher telegram addressed to Burkhill, I was indignant, for it was well known that one of the most important duties which the telegraph companies insist upon is the inviolability of the messages intrusted to their wires. Nothing less than a peremptory order from the court is sufficient to produce the telegrams placed in our care.

I was on the point of leaving my desk and compelling the impudent stranger to surrender the cipher he had surreptitiously secured, but I restrained myself and allowed him to go without suspecting my knowledge of his act.

"Ben," said I, addressing my young friend, whom I trusted beyond any of the older operators, "did you notice that fellow who just went out?"

"Yes, sir; I have seen him before. He followed me home last night, and after I went in the house, he walked up and down the pavement for more than half an hour. He was very careful, but I saw him through the blinds."

"Has he ever said anything to you?"

"Nothing, except in the office."

"He took down every letter of that cipher telegram you just received for Mr. Burkhill."

The boy was surprised and sat a minute in deep thought.

"Mr. Melville," he said, "if you have no objection, I shall study out that cipher."

"That I think is impossible; it has been prepared with care, and it will take a greater expert than you to unravel it."

Ben smiled in his pleasing way as he answered:

"I am fond of unraveling puzzles, and I believe I can take this apart."

"I will be surprised if you succeed; but if you do, keep it a secret from everyone but myself."

"You may depend on that."

The odd times which Ben could secure through the day were spent in studying the mysterious letters; but when he placed it in his pocket at night and started for home, he had not caught the first glimmer of its meaning.

But he was hopeful and said he would never give it up until he made it as clear as noonday, and I knew that if it was within the range of accomplishment, he would keep his word. I have told enough to show my readers he was unusually intelligent and quick-witted, but I am free to confess that I had scarcely a hope of his success.

"I've got it!"

That was the whispered exclamation with which Ben Mayberry greeted me the next morning when he entered the office.

"No! You're jesting," I answered, convinced, at the same time, that he was in earnest.

"I'll soon show you," was his exultant response.

"How was it you struck the key?"

"That is hard to tell, more than you can explain how it is, after you have puzzled your brain for a long time over an arithmetical problem, it suddenly becomes clear to you."

He sat down by my desk.

"I figured and studied, and tried those letters every way I could think of until midnight, and was on the point of going to bed, when the whole thing flashed upon me. You know, Mr. Melville, that in trying to unravel a cipher, the first thing necessary is to find the key-word, for it must be there somewhere; and if you look sharp enough it will reveal itself. One single letter gave it to me."

"How was that?"

"If you will look at the telegram," said Ben, spreading it out before me, "you will notice that in one instance only is a single letter seen standing by itself. That is the letter 'b,' which I concluded must stand for the article 'a,' for I know of no other, unless it is 'I.' Now, the letter 'b' is the second one in the alphabet, and stands next in order to 'a.' If this system is followed throughout the cipher, we have only to take, instead of the letters as written, the next in order as they occur in the alphabet. But when I tried it on the following word, it failed entirely. Luckily I tested the second in the same manner, and I was surprised to find it made a perfect word, viz.: 'chance.' The third came to naught, but the fourth developed into 'your.' That proved that every other word of the message was constructed in this manner, and it did not take me long to bring them out into good English. This was a big help, I can tell you, and it was not long before I discovered that in the alternate words the system reversed; that is, instead of taking the letter immediately succeeding, the writer had used that which immediately precedes it in the alphabet. Applying this key to the telegram, it read thus:

"'Must wait till fall; Sam has a better chance south. Your bank will keep.'"

"Now," added Ben, who was warranted in feeling jubilant over his success, "that is a very ordinary cipher--one which hundreds would make out without trouble. Had the writer run his letters all together--that is, without any break between the words--I would have been stumped. Besides, he uses no blind words, as he ought to have done; and it looks very much as if he calls everything by its right name, something which I should think no person anxious to keep such a secret would do. If he means 'bank,' he might as well have called it by another name altogether."

"I think ordinarily he