Part 18 (1/2)
But now--now he believed he was about to get it. Moving the coil backward and forward he strained every muscle in his face in a mad effort to understand. Yes, yes, that was it! Then, just as he was getting it a terrible thing happened. There came a blinding flash of light, accompanied by a rending, tearing, deafening crash. He felt himself seized by some invisible power which wrenched every muscle, twisted every joint in his body, then flung him limp and motionless to the floor.
When he came to himself, Joe and the girl were bending over him. Joe was tearing at the b.u.t.tons of his s.h.i.+rt. The girl was rocking backward and forward. All but overcome with excitement, she was still attempting to chafe his right hand. When she saw him open his eyes she uttered a little cry, then toppled over in a dead faint.
”Wha--what happened?” Curlie's lips framed the words.
”Lightning,” shouted Joe. ”Protectors must have got damp.
Short-circuited. Raised hob. Burned out about everything, I guess.”
”Can't be as bad as that. Tend to the girl,” Curlie nodded toward the corner.
Joe ducked out of the cabin, to appear a moment later with a cold, damp cloth. This he spread over the girl's forehead. A moment later she sat up and looked about her.
Curlie was sitting up also. He was rubbing his head. When he saw the girl looking at him he laughed and sang:
”Oh, a sailor's life is a merry life, And it's a sailor's life for me.
”But say!” he exclaimed suddenly, ”what was I doing when things went to pieces?”
Joe nodded toward the radiophone desk where coils and instruments lay piled in tangled confusion.
”You were getting a message from out the storm.”
”Oh yes, and they gave me their location. It was--no, I haven't it.
Lightning drove it right out of my head. Let me think. Let me concentrate.”
For a full moment there was silence, the silence of the raging sea. Then Curlie shook his head sadly.
”No, I can't remember,” his lips framed the words. It was unnecessary that he shout them aloud.
”Oh!” exclaimed the girl, and for a moment it seemed that she would faint again. But she controlled herself bravely.
”We'll find them yet,” she forced a brave smile. ”It's a comfort just to know they're still alive, that they're near us, at least not too far away for us to save them if we can only find them.”
Again there was silence. Then Curlie rose unsteadily to his feet.
”Give us a hand here, Joe, old scout,” he said. ”We'll get this thing back in shape. There are extra vacuum tubes, tuning-coils and the like, and plenty of all kinds of wire. We'll manage it somehow--got to.”
The girl rose, to sink upon a seat in the corner.
”That's right,” shouted Curlie. ”You stay right here. We'll be company for each other. Fellow needs company on a night like this. Besides, I've got something to say, a lot to say, to you and Joe as soon as the radiophone is tuned up again. Got to say it before I get killed again,”
he chuckled.
CHAPTER XVIII
THE STORMY PETREL GETS AN ANSWER
The dash of rain which beat like a volley of lead upon the fuselage of the seaplane as she rose above the spray lasted but a moment.