Part 24 (1/2)

”Of course I know how senseless that order would be,” pursued Seaton, with a nervous twitching of his lips. In fact, at this moment it filled one with pity, just to witness the too-plain signs of his inward torment and misery.

There was a pause, broken, after a few moments, by the charter-man saying, as he made a palpable effort to pull himself together:

”Halstead, you've shown so much sense all along that I leave it to you to do whatever you deem best.”

Skipper Tom's brow cleared at once. A look of purpose flashed into his eyes.

”Then we'll keep eastward out to sea, sir, or a little bit to the northeast, until we get out in the usual path of the southbound steamers.”

”And after that?” demanded Powell Seaton, eagerly.

”All we can do, sir, then, will be to wait until we get a wireless communication with other vessels.”

”Go ahead, lad.”

Tom moved the speed control slowly, until the ”Restless” went loafing along at a speed of six miles an hour. Heading weatherward, he gave more heed to the wheel, for there were signs that the water was going to roughen somewhat.

”Hank!” called the young skipper, and b.u.t.ts came to the bridge deck.

”Sound the fog-whistle every minute,” directed Halstead.

”Too-whoo-oo-oo!” sounded the melancholy, penetrating note through the mist.

”Are you going to keep that up, Captain Halstead?” inquired Mr.

Seaton, in instant apprehension.

”Got to, sir. It's the law of the ocean in a deep fog.”

”But it signals our location to the enemy on the drab boat.”

”If it keeps the seventy-footer within sound of our horn all the time,” laughed Halstead, ”so much the better. Then the Drab will be within range of our marine gla.s.ses when the fog lifts.”

”It shows those rascals the direction of our course, too,” cried Seaton, in a still troubled voice.

”We've got to observe the law, sir, even if _they_ do break it,” Tom gently urged. ”That other boat's people have been acting like pirates all along, but that would be no excuse for us. What if we cut into a lumber-laden schooner, and sank her at once?”

Mr. Seaton was obliged to nod his a.s.sent.

”It's a fearfully tough piece of luck for us, this fog,” Tom continued, feelingly, ”but we've got to make the most of it.”

”And, if Anson Dalton gets aboard any Brazil-bound steamer while we're in this fog, the whole great game for myself and my friends is lost,”

faltered Seaton.

”If that steamer has a wireless installation,” retorted the young motor boat skipper, ”then we've every chance in the world to reach her before the Drab possibly can. Joe will hear her wireless two hours or more before the other fellows can hear or locate a fog-horn.”

”It's--it's a dreadful uncertainty that this fog puts upon us,”

groaned the unhappy charter-man. ”Dalton may take advantage of this white shroud to run straight for the nearest post office and mail the papers that he stole.”