“Now’s the time, then. Quick, man. The S. O. S.! Send it! We’re the Wellington, in trouble. This ship is now the Wellington, a hundred miles east of us; and you’re sending out the S. O. S. call as the Wellington’s sinking!”
The operator shook his head. “I can’t.”
“Can’t! Why not?”
“I’ve been thinking it over.”
“Well?”
“We can’t call ‘Wolf!’ on the ocean. The wireless must always bring a ship to a ship in distress; no captain must doubt it a minute.”
“Once won’t do any harm,” Andy argued recklessly. “We’ll merely put the Corinthian back a hundred miles, and maybe bring back some other ship which gets the call. And think of the excitement we’ll give the passengers on the Corinthian till they find the Wellington isn’t sinking.”
“Yes; and when they find it out?”
“No one can ever find that you did it,” Andy returned impatiently. “We’ve gone all over this, man. No one can tell where a wireless message comes from. The Corinthian will think it comes from the Wellington. The Wellington won’t know we’ve called since the operator’s in bed. The Corinthian will call her, of course, and when there’s no answer that makes sure the Wellington’s in trouble. If the Corinthian calls us to go back to help the Wellington, too, we don’t get the call; our installation’s out of order for a few hours. Nothing could be simpler than that.”
“Still, it’s too much risk for five hundred.”