“I’m not afraid of the message becoming known through the wireless office,” said Ned, “but there are hundreds of amateur operators always on the lookout for practice. If one of these caught us he might not hesitate to tell all he knew. Wait a little while. We may hear something.”
Disappointed, Bob surrendered and retired to a state room. However, Ned knew something about the working of the wireless and two or three times during the next three hours he sleepily arose and listened for a possible call. At ten o’clock Bob turned out for the long watch and, relieving Buck, alternated from that time in keeping an eye on the engines and an ear on the wireless receiver. At 10:30 o’clock all were relieved by a shout from Bob and almost before the three boys on duty could question him, the wireless operator was filling the store room with loud “barks” of the wireless condenser. Bob had received a call and was pounding his key in response. Suddenly the wire ceased. A few moments of silence and then Bob threw off his head piece and shouted:
“New plan O. K.; new plan O. K. They got it. Message is a Marconi from the Lizard. Signed Herald.” “Any answer?” he yelled as he sprang to the instrument again.
Ned examined the chronometer.
“Roy,” he announced, “it’s ten thirty-two o’clock. How near in are we?”
The vigilant Roy made a quick calculation.
“We’re less than one hundred and seventy miles out.”
“Send this,” called Ned to Bob: “‘Herald, New York. Ten thirty-two A. M. One hundred and seventy miles off Irish coast. Light rain. London one thirty P. M. Message received. Flyer.’”
At various times during the night the constantly changing watches of the airship had partaken of cold luncheon and hot coffee. Between ten thirty and eleven o’clock Roy and Bob between them had prepared an ample breakfast and when the lookout finally saw the Arran light and sang out “There she is!” Roy, Bob and Alan were at breakfast below. It was then that Buck was aroused and all climbed above to feast their eyes on the point to which they had been making all night.
While the Flyer, speeding forward over the lakes and rivers, white highways, thatched cottages and little stone fenced villages of Ireland, carried its crew nearer the great metropolis, all was made shipshape aboard. The staterooms were arranged for the return passengers. The boys aboard had no plans for further sleep or rest except such as they could snatch while on duty or in the short stop before their start on the return trip. The program called for a departure from London at two o’clock or before. And the flight to New York was to be made in twelve hours “or less” as Ned put it.