Rankin wheeled, and saw—the commandant! With him was the officer of the watch.
Once again he was caught. A little thing this time; but still it was dallying with the thin edge of obedience. Rankin was surprised to find himself feeling his guilt.
But the commandant noticed him no more than he did the stiff-standing messenger. That great man’s usually impassive face was flushed with uneasiness. The sheaf of decoded messages was clutched into a crumpled ball in his hand.
It must surely be something of the most extreme urgency, thought Rankin, which would bring the lord of all the navy-yard universe hurrying to the radio station in person. The commandant’s whole attention, in fact, was directed fiercely at the operator.
“Get me that bearing!” he shot at him. “I must have that bearing! Seventy-two west, you say; is that correct? But the latitude, man; what’s the latitude?”
“Correct as I can catch it, sir. Receiver’s somethin’ awful to-day; but seventy-two’s what I make it out. An’ I just got latitude thirty-three, twenty.”
The information seemed to upset the great man entirely.
“Great Heaven! Just what I thought. She’s steaming right into it! Call the destroyer Woodruff immediately and stand by to send this; my code number, precedence of everything!”
The operator’s face went blank at the thought.
“Destroyer Woodruff? Sorry, sir. Can’t pick her up. Been trying for an hour. Wireless must be out of commission.”