Herr Muller exploded.
"Vot I care aboudt blonde young vimins?" he demanded, pounding the table angrily. "Der message I vant iss a navy message, you onderstond dot?"
"Oh, that's it, is it?" inquired Ned, assuming great innocence. "I thought you wanted every message that came through the air.—Hullo!—Hush!—Here she comes now!"
Suddenly a new note had struck into the wireless channels. The quick, imperious call of a battleship summoning the wireless ears of another sea-fighter.
"M-n! M-n! M-n!"
"It's the Manhattan being called by the flagship," muttered Ned. "Hullo! now they're answering."
"Squadron will rendezvous at Blackhaven Bay. Will await further instructions there," he translated rapidly. But his translation was mental only. To Herr Muller he handed only a string of figures, the cipher the two vessels had been using. Muller hastened off with it to Chance's cabin. The man had now recovered from his swoon and might be able to translate the message.
Ned took instant advantage of the situation.
With quick, nervous fingers he began pounding the sending key. The lithe, white spark crackled and flashed across the terminals. It crackled like a bunch of firecrackers.
"M-n! M-n! M-n!" was what the boy kept pounding out.