“I’ll take anybody. But I’ve got to be free in order to prepare——”
“Whist! That’ll be all right, sor. Kape a stiff upper lip and everything will come right. The young lady and you have friends here, sor. I don’t dare to stop now, but it’s back again I’ll be later on.”
Howard made no effort to detain the man. He was in a fever of impatience to examine the instruments on the table, and the moment he heard the key turn in the lock, he pushed aside his dinner and began to finger them.
“It isn’t possible,” he muttered. “It isn’t possible! Forbes would know better. But, by George, he doesn’t. It’s true! It’s true! He’s locked me up with a wireless outfit. If it’s only in working order.” He pressed the key and a rumble and a crash gave answer. “It is! It is!” he exulted. “By Heaven! It is!”
“Now to raise somebody before Forbes finds me out,” he continued. “If the wireless only sent as silently as it received, it would be all right. But—well! maybe no one will notice. It’s pretty noisy here! Anyhow, there’s nothing to do but try.”
He placed his finger on the key. “Let’s see!” he soliloquized. “The naval station at Guantanamo is nearest, but I don’t know its call. I’ll have to try C Q D—the emergency signal.”
Again and again he pressed the key, and again and again the apparatus roared, sending the cry for help broadcast over the sea. No interruption came. The village was some distance away, and the noise passed unheard or unheeded. “C Q D! C Q D!” he called.
At last the answer came, faint but distinct, whispering in through the microphone on his head. “Hello! Hello! Hello!” it sounded. “Who’s this?”
“Survivor of the wrecked steamer Queen, now on board an unknown steamer in the middle of the Sargasso Sea. Is this Guantanamo?”
Sharply the answer came: “Yes. What did you say? Survivors of the Queen? Good Heavens, you were given up for lost. How many are you?”