CHAPTER XIX
SAILING THE BLUE WATER
"No, I don't know what it ith. If I did, I thhouldn't be athking you," answered Grace. "It ith either lightning, fireworkth or a real fire."
"It is wireless, Tommy. Don't you know now?"
Grace shook her head.
"Didn't you ever hear a wireless machine work?"
"No; but there ithn't any wireleth on the 'Thilly Thue,' ith there?"
"I—I don't know. I mean, I did not see any when we were out there to-day. I don't understand it. What can he be doing with wireless so late at night?"
"Maybe he ith telegraphing home to find out if the folkth are all right," suggested Tommy.
Harriet did not smile. Her face was very grave, her forehead wrinkled in thought. For the greater part of an hour, with brief intervals between, the wireless on the sloop continued, the sparks at the masthead sputtering and snapping with marked regularity. Had Harriet Burrell understood a little more of telegraphy she would have known, though unable to read the dots and dashes, that the operator was calling some one who did not answer. After a long time he apparently gave it up, for the sparking at the masthead ceased suddenly, followed by a brief period of silence on board, then the creaking of block and tackle was renewed. This was followed by a subdued thumping and rattling about on deck, this lasting only a few moments. The "riding light"—a light hung from the stern of the boat—was hung out, a dim light appeared in the cabin, which after a time was extinguished, then silence settled over the sloop for the night.