"Yes," said Andrew gravely, "I think she did."
Whitney was silent for a moment or two, listening to the turmoil of the sea and the uproar of the gale that filled the shadowy hold with confused sound, through which came the steady trickle of water running out on the sand. He felt that the wreck had a secret.
"You must see what I'm getting after," he said. "It looks as if somebody had been here since the salvers gave her up."
Andrew nodded.
"The blocks on the masthead are not the kind they'd use for heaving cargo out; besides, they'd want a gaff. Then the signal-halyard felt quite sound."
"If you wanted to get on board, would you take a whammel boat?"
"It depends. A whammeler couldn't get alongside if it was blowing from the west; and since the tide runs out fast she'd have to leave early on the ebb. If she came on the flood, the wreck would soon be covered."
"Then anybody who meant to get on board would, if possible, walk across the sands, which narrows things down. Now we come to another point. Why would anybody wish to board her?"
Andrew said nothing for a minute and then answered thoughtfully:
"Of course, I've seen where you were leading. The signal-halyard would lift the steel triangle they use with a wireless installation, and they'd get some height at the masthead. Besides, messages travel farthest at night; and the operator wouldn't be seen crossing the sands. I don't know whether he could carry the necessary apparatus, but he might hide it in a watertight box. The candle will be out in a minute, so we can't look."