“We must.”
The ship’s bell struck fluidly; in a moment there was some sort of confusion and calling—apparently on account of changing watches—and men came by. Andy put Roberta reluctantly away.
“You must go in now. No; you can’t help, dear. You might only hinder. Of course, I’ll tell you all about it as soon as I can.”
She stopped only for one more meeting of their lips, and then, no longer wondering at her obedience, she disappeared down the nearest companionway. Andy moved in an ecstasy down the deck; if he had had doubts before of what he was about to do, they were unfelt in this incredible delight. He loved little Bobs; she loved him; they could be married if he carried through what already he had planned. He was reckless to, oblivious of the confusion on deck except as it threatened his plans. Then most of the men moving about and running back and forth from the bridge vanished below; they left the decks almost deserted, and gave him his opportunity to act. He crept up to the wireless cabin. The rasp of the current in sending a communication came to him clearly. He waited tensely till it ceased; then he opened the door and entered the cabin, swiftly shutting the door behind him and locking it. The relief wireless operator was alone within, seated before his instruments.
“All right?” Andy demanded of him.
“The Corinthian’s in easy communication, of course—a little ahead of us, and twenty or thirty miles to the south.”
“She’s also within communication radius of the Wellington?”
“Sure; the Wellington’s now about a hundred miles east of us. If we sent out a call as if it came from the Wellington, the Corinthian couldn’t tell whether it came from us or the Wellington.”
“Good! And the Wellington wouldn’t know we were impersonating them? The Wellington’s operator has gone to bed now?”
“He certainly isn’t at his station.”