In the ten minutes it required to take aboard the hundred gallons of sorely needed additional fuel, the captain of the tanker proved himself all that Fred had predicted of him. And as they waved their final farewells and the plane took to the air, all felt a pang of genuine regret that the circumstances made it necessary for them to withhold the essential facts as to their actual mission.
CHAPTER XVI A Matter of Hours
The darkness of night was again upon them, for although they had now been gone from Halifax a matter of some twenty-seven or eight hours, the reader will keep in mind that they were, so to speak, traveling ever eastward, and therefore toward constantly changing time conditions.
It was well into this second night, when they were rather feeling their way, and at materially reduced speed, and their calculations put them at between four and five hundred miles off the Irish coast, when all of them, now desperately feeling the need of sleep, were aroused by Fred's announcement that they were again receiving a call, this time no doubt genuine.
"It is being relayed by some vessel," he said, "and is in our code."
He picked up the ever-ready pad and pencil and listened intently.
Finally he began to write. Three words were jotted down, when he reached for the switch and took the sending key, interrupting the operator on the vessel. There was a lengthy sending and receiving back and forth, and then Fred began writing again. He added two more words and there was another interruption.
"Somebody breaking in," he informed Don, who was leaning eagerly over his shoulder, the code book already in his hand, the first steps taken toward translating the message.