"Then signal that dinghy that they are in the path of the torpedo."
By the time Hickey had clambered clumsily to the signal box again, he was too late to be of service. Fortunately the men in the dinghy had seen the torpedo just in time. A quick pull at the oars had turned the boat in such a way that the projectile shot past with only a few feet to spare.
"She's heading very straight, sir," the executive officer informed his superior.
"Yes; that's a fine run. But it isn't the fault of our signalman that the torpedo didn't run down the dinghy. Hickey, that was about the worst performance of its kind that I ever saw. See that you do not let it happen again. If you do, I shall take you off signal work entirely."
"Aye, aye, sir," answered the Battleship Boy, whose face was now redder than the shock of fiery hair that was standing straight up on his head.
"I'll show him," muttered Sam. "I'm a clumsy lummox, but I know my business just as well as he does his. Wait till I get a chance to wiggle this flag! I'll make those fellows out in the small boats think they're getting struck by lightning. I'll——"
"Ask them if they can see the torpedo," broke in the voice of the captain.
Sam set his flag dancing. The moment he began to work with it all his nervousness left him. The red-headed boy was himself again.
"Steamer number one says they are after it, sir."
"Do they know where it is?"