Part 23 (2/2)

”Yes, sir.”

Eric ran down to the wireless room.

”Acts like a man who doesn't know much about wireless, sir. I'm sure, sir, that it couldn't be the operator, not even on a tramp steamer.

There's hardly an amateur who would make such a mess of it,” said the operator.

”What does he say?” asked Eric. ”Can't you get word to him?”

”No, sir. That's what's puzzling me. I've called and called, and he pays no attention.”

”Do you suppose your sending apparatus is in good order?”

”Yes, sir,” the operator replied. ”Working perfectly. There's two or three other s.h.i.+ps calling the _Kirkmore_, and she doesn't answer them either. I've talked to most o' them, sir.”

”Who's the nearest?”

”We seem to be nearest to the s.h.i.+p, sir,” said the operator, ”but the _Lucania_ is the nearest to the boats. They seem quite a bit to the south'ard.”

”Running into the line of travel, I suppose,” said Eric. ”What do you think is the meaning of that call?” he added.

”I think, sir,” said the operator, ”somebody must have been forgotten and left behind.”

”But why doesn't he answer?”

”Maybe the receiving apparatus is broken down. There it is again, sir,”

the Coast Guard operator paused. ”No, sir, it's not the operator. I don't think I could even tell what he means if it hadn't been gone over so often.”

”Well,” the captain said, when Eric reported the circ.u.mstances, ”if the _Lucania_ is nearer the boats than we are, and we are nearer the s.h.i.+p, we'd better find out who's sending that call.”

”Yes, sir,” Eric answered formally.

In the meantime the knowledge of the disaster had spread through the s.h.i.+p, and there was much excitement, when, one point off the port bow, the glare of the burning steamer showed against the murk of midnight.

Every one not on duty, and those on duty who were able, ran to the port rail. As the _Itasca_ steamed on, under forced draught, quivering as her engines throbbed under her, the flare on the bow increased in brightness. In half an hour's time it could be quite clearly made out as a steamer on fire, the dense cloud of smoke being illumined from below by the glare of the flames.

”I hope the operator was wrong. If there is anybody on board,” said Eric, in a low voice, to his friend Homer, ”they wouldn't have much chance.”

”Is the call still coming?” his chum asked.

”No,” Eric answered, ”nothing for twenty minutes.”

The Coast Guard cutter speedily raised the hull of the burning steamer.

Her stern was much higher out of water than her bow, and amids.h.i.+ps she was all aflame, belching up dense volumes of smoke.

A message came into the radio room.

”The _Lucania_ reports that she has picked up three of the boats,” said the operator through the tube to the first lieutenant on the bridge.

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