There was a rush of feet from below.
The two Yale men made for the side, where the two they had left in the launch were looking up anxiously.
“Get into the launch and away,” whispered Jim, “I’m going to drop into the water and listen to whatever message they get. I can read that stuff if I can hear it. I’ll swim toward shore when they get through, and you can pick me up. It’ll be better if they don’t know we’re here.”
He dropped silently over the side and into the water as the launch stole away, her engine muffled, so that no one should hear her. And then, supporting himself in the cold water by hanging to a rope, while he kicked off his shoes and rid himself of his coat, Jim stayed under the Marina’s side and listened to the crashing of the wireless spark while a message from Harding to Barrows—a name unknown to Jim—was received.
Shivering in the water, which was far from warm, though not so cold as it would have been had the tide been coming in instead of going out, as he reflected, Jim grasped the sense of the message. Fortunately for him, the senders had relied on the tuning of the wireless apparatus on the Marina for secrecy, and the message was sent in plain English, although, of course, in Morse.
When a wireless message is sent through the air, the pitch may be determined at the sending station. The principle is the same as that of tuning a violin. In an orchestra, all the violins are tuned to the same pitch, or else discord is the result. It is the same with wireless. All regular, legitimate stations are attuned to the same pitch, so that each can receive any message sent by any of the others. For their own evil purposes, the owners of the Marina and those who were sending the message had chosen a different pitch.
“Tell Barrows,” the message ran, as Jim spelled it out, “Barnes betting on Yale to make Merriwell think O. K. Tell him to be careful—think chances for killing good. Can make big bet New York morning of race—will not then arouse suspicion. Know of Yale syndicate offering five thousand at five to two. Ask Barrows if he can cover.”
There was a moment of delay, while, as Jim supposed, the message was being translated to Barrows, whoever he might be. In the sudden silence, he heard sounds of activity on one of the near-by revenue cutters, and also the wash of the water against the Elihu Yale, which was not far away.
Cra-a-sh! The wireless was working again.
“Barrows says O. K. Thanks. Will cover Thursday a.m.”