Mr. Dupont's orders were crisp and the publicity man hurried to obey his bidding.
"Bring me those clippings on that Legonia Fish Cannery stuff, Black. Also the ads in to-day's papers. Have you read that story of the mix-up between the Americans and the alien fishermen at Diablo Island?"
Black admitted he had not.
"Get The Times and read it," snapped the manager. "Come alive, Black, and as soon as Dalton comes in, tell him I want to see him right away."
It was high noon at Cavalan when the Pelican reentered the harbor after cruising in the open sea to pick up any words that might come from McCoy over
the radio. Gregory watched the progress of the Pelican from the deck of the Albatross.
"Looks as if they'd picked up something at last," he observed. "Hope it's from the fleet, saying they arrived at the cannery all right."
"They've hardly had time to make it yet," objected Dickie Lang. "I wouldn't expect to hear from them at Legonia for at least two hours."
The wireless operator appeared on deck as the Pelican drew abreast of the Albatross. "Message for Mr. Gregory," he shouted.
Gregory took the paper and glanced eagerly at the message. It was from McCoy and it read: