"The Dolphin," he went on, calmly divesting himself of his soaked uniform, "was on her way to Melbourne. I'd been yearning for a joy ride and went up for an alleged scouting trip. Then that blow shot out of nowhere, picked me up, and insisted that I go with it.
"About an hour ago I thought I saw a chance to zoom up and out of it, I turned, and blick went my right wing, and down I dropped."
"I don't know how we can notify your ship, Lieutenant O'Keefe," I said. "We have no wireless."
"Doctair Goodwin," said Da Costa, "we could change our course, sair—perhaps—"
"Thanks—but not a bit of it," broke in O'Keefe. "Lord alone knows where the Dolphin is now. Fancy she'll be nosing around looking for me. Anyway, she's just as apt to run into you as you into her. Maybe we'll strike something with a wireless, and I'll trouble you to put me aboard." He hesitated. "Where are you bound, by the way?" he asked.
"For Ponape," I answered.
"No wireless there," mused O'Keefe. "Beastly hole. Stopped a week ago for fruit. Natives seemed scared to death at us—or something. What are you going there for?"
Da Costa darted a furtive glance at me. It troubled me.
O'Keefe noted my hesitation.
"Oh, I beg your pardon," he said. "Maybe I oughn't to have asked that?"