“I do not believe she is going to sink, Mr. Rollife,” said Ruth. “Oh, if you could only repair your aerial wires, you might call for help!”
“Let me out of here,” growled the radio operator, “and I’ll find some way of sending an S O S—don’t fear!”
Mr. Dowd came back from the engine room where he had secured a screwdriver. He set to work removing the screws from the hinges of the radio room door.
“I do not believe that the explosion caused any serious damage to the ship itself,” said he. “The fireroom is full of water; but it looks to me as though a seacock had been opened. I think the explosion was on the inside—a bomb thrown into one of the fires, perhaps.”
“What’s that you say?” demanded Rollife, from inside the room. “No likelihood of the old tub sinking?”
“Not at all! Not at all!”
“Well, I certainly am relieved,” said the radio man. “I’ve been conjuring up all kinds of horrors in here.”
“Huh!” exploded Dowd. “You were asleep till I pounded on the door.”
“Oh, well, maybe I lost myself for a moment,” confessed Rollife. “Anyhow, I made up my mind I was done for when I could make nobody listen to me after my door was nailed. They certainly had it in for me.”
“Where was your assistant?” Dowd asked.