When Joe Dawson went into the room under the tall aerials that hung from the mast, he expected to listen only to some message not in the least intended for this station.
Seating himself by the relay, with its Morse register close at hand, Joe Dawson picked up and adjusted the head-band with its pair of watch-case receivers. He then hastily picked up a pencil, shoved a pad of paper close under his hand and listened.
All this he did with a dull, listless air. He had not the slightest forewarning of the great 10 jolt that was soon to come to himself and his comrades out of the atmosphere.
The call, whatever it was, had ended. Yet, after a pause of a few seconds, it began to sound again. Joe’s listless air vanished as the new set of dots and dashes came in, clamoring in clicking haste against his ear drums.
“To Every Wireless Station—Urgent!” ran the first few words. Joe’s nimble fingers pushed his pencil, recording letter after letter until these words were down. Then, dropping his pencil for the sending key, young Dawson transmitted a crashing electric impulse into the air, flashing through space over hundreds of miles the station signal, “CBA.”
“Have you a fast, seaworthy boat within immediate call?” came back out of the invisible distance over the ocean.
“A twenty-six-mile sea-going motor boat right at the pier here,” Joe flashed back, again adding his signature, “CBA.”
“Good!” came back the answer. “Then listen hard—act quick—life at stake!”
Joe Dawson not only listened. His thoughts flew with the dots and dashes of the wireless message; his right hand rushed the pencil in recording all of that wonderful message as it came to him. It was tragedy that Dawson wrote down at the dictation of this impatient operator 11 far out on the Atlantic highways. Almost in the midst of it came a feverish break-in from land, and another hand was playing in the great game of life and death, fame and dishonor, riches and intrigue. All was being unfolded by means of the unseen, far-reaching wireless telegraph.
As Joe listened, wrote, and occasionally broke in to send a few words, the dew of cold perspiration stood out on his brow. His fingers trembled. With a great effort of the will this motor boat boy steadied his nerves and muscles in order to see through to the end this mysterious thing coming out of space.