Commander Lang met Phil Morgan as he would have met another man. There was nothing “kiddish about Whistler,” Al had once said. The commander of the Colodia examined the messages as the boys believed they were intended to read. He at once approved the application of George Belding to be attached to the radio squad until further notice. He sent for Sparks and heard his story of the mystery message. In every way he showed an acute interest in the affair.
If the Redbird was somewhere at sea in charge of mutineers—Germans at that!—to find her would be a task for the Colodia. But as Whistler had immediately seen, it was agreed that to discover the course of the Redbird and her daily position by the sun were the most important points.
The boys were most impatient for the time to come when George would take his “trick” at the radio instrument again. This would not be until the afternoon watch, when the radio man then on duty had orders to give the instrument over to George if the “ghost-talk” again was heard.
It had been decided that George should try to reply to the mysterious call. By spelling out the name of his father’s ship, the Redbird, or calling Lilian Belding by name, it might be possible to communicate with the vessel and send a word of courage to the passengers. The desire was to encourage the sender of the strange message to repeat again and again the Redbird’s situation.
It was only possible to guess at the course of the ship bound for Bahia, as well as her present position. Lilian Belding had doubtless called for the Colodia because her brother and Whistler Morgan served on that naval vessel, not because she had any idea as to where the destroyer was.
The two vessels might be a desperately long distance apart. That fact could not be overlooked. The boys were in a fever of expectation.
As it drew near eight bells of the forenoon watch there came a message by wireless that was even more exciting for most of the crew than the mystery of the “ghost-talk.”
“An S O S!” whispered the messenger to George Belding as he darted from the radio station to the bridge.
Swiftly the watch officer read the message: “H. M. S. S. Ferret, from Porto Rico for Liverpool, attacked by German cruiser Sea Pigeon, lat. twenty-one, long. fifty-eight. S O S.”
The exciting information was instantly communicated two ways—to the commander’s cabin and to the chief engineer. The Colodia leaped forward, conned on her new course at once. They were off in another race to overtake the elusive German raider—and this time, perhaps, to find her.