On tiptoe Jack crossed the cabin and peered over Frank’s shoulder. His chum had one arm through the porthole, clutching the extended umbrella. One wire led to the wire stem. Another wire dangled downward to the sea, although Jack could not, of course, observe more than the fact of its direction. Here were aerial and ground. Jack tapped his chum on the shoulder, but Frank, with serious face, frowned at him, and Jack interpreted the look to be a request for silence. Perhaps Frank was hearing something of moment. He stood to one side, waiting for Frank to speak.
Evidently his chum was straining hard to hear. He even closed his eyes, the better to concentrate. What could it be? Jack had news of his own to impart, important news, but in Frank’s attitude he sensed something that bespoke importance too. Suddenly Frank opened his eyes.
“That’s all,” he said. “The conversation grew fainter and fainter. Now I can’t hear at all any more.”
“What was it? What did you hear?”
“Just two ships talking, Jack. That’s all.”
Frank smiled teasingly, as he folded the umbrella and pulled it back through the porthole, then laid off the headphones and began hauling in the ground wire.
“Just two ships, that’s all. You don’t mind my taking liberties with your toy, do you, Jack?”
“Of course not. But, look here, you heard something that excited you, Frank. Quit joshing. What was it?”
Frank turned a serious face, his eyes gleaming.
“Jack, the funniest thing. I heard two ships talking, or rather, only one ship talking to another. The replies of the second I couldn’t hear at all.”