As he drew up his soap-box his eye dwelt appreciatively on the delicacies in the platter.
"Aren't you other fellows going to eat anything?" he inquired, with mock concern. "I don't see any more than enough for myself on that platter. Don't be so narrow about the food, Filippo!"
The Italian pointed to a pan rounded up with uncooked titbits.
"Plenty more!"
"Good!" said Percy. "I was afraid somebody else might have to go hungry."
All devoted themselves to the contents of their plates. They kept Filippo busy frying until their appetites were satisfied.
Supper was over at last, and the dishes washed and put away. Outside, the storm raged worse than ever. Stevens sat down to his instrument, repaired after its damage by Brittler, and put the receivers over his ears.
"Come on, Throppy!" exhorted Lane. "Don't go calling to-night! Get out of the ether and give some other wireless sharps a look-in! Pull off that harness and take down your violin. Let's make an evening of it! We sha'n't have many more."
Stevens lifted his hands to remove the headpiece. Suddenly a change came over his face and his arms dropped slowly. He gave his mates a warning look. There fell a silence in the cabin. Anxiously the others watched the operator's tense features. Minutes passed.
On a sudden he sprang up and tore off the receivers.