His description was, however, sent out broadcast, as a renegade from the navy. This done, Herc, feeling downcast and uneasy, returned to the ship. He felt depressed. Influences of evil were at work, he felt sure of it. But the very indefiniteness of his suspicions made them the harder to bear.
"At least, I can find out if Saki was lying about being short of fresh vegetables," he said.
The assistant steward, a negro named after the ship where he had last served, Tennessee, was summoned. Herc made an inspection with him and found his worst suspicions verified. Far from being short of fresh provisions, the ship's refrigerators were amply stocked. There was no shortage anywhere that would justify the decamping steward's excuse to get ashore.
"Huh! if I'd only had horse sense enough to do this a while ago," mused Herc gloomily, "that fellow would have stood no more chance to get off this ship than a man would have to sell refrigerators at the North Pole. I'm a fine dunderhead, I am."
No wireless messages came that night, and the morning brought no news of Ned. Nor did Kenworth reappear at the appointed time.
Herc began to be seriously worried. What could have happened? The survey of the mine planting operations could not have taken more than a day. Ned should certainly have been heard from. The silence and mystery that were closing in about Herc began to get on his nerves.
Still he attended dutifully to the routine of the ship, and Trevor, the operator, was under orders to report to him the instant anything came over the wireless. So the day wore away and with nightfall the wireless began to spit and splutter.
What Herc had dreaded had happened. The flagship was asking for Ned. Herc was in a terrible quandary. He could not tell a lie and pretend that Ned was on board or had been heard from. Yet if he did not shield his comrade in some way, Ned was almost certain, unless he had an excellent excuse for his absence, to get into serious trouble. Even a courtmartial might result.
At length the wireless became imperative.