There was reason for the question, for Joe had suddenly developed a wild fit of excitement and was clasping Jim Dolliver’s hand.
“Your coming here to-night was the best thing that ever happened, Jim,” he cried. “Gracious,” he added to himself, “there isn’t a doubt in the world but that Jim’s father’s friend is Miles Minory.”
CHAPTER XXIII.
A CALL FROM THE SHORE.
It was early the next morning that the “wireless alarm” summoned Joe from his couch. Sleepily he made his way to the wireless hut and was soon in communication with Nat. Something had gone wrong with the Nomad’s wireless, it appeared, and Ding-dong’s new station was not in working order. This was the reason that Joe had not been called up the night before.
“Anything happened?” asked Nat.
“Lots,” tapped out Joe sententiously, “but you’ll have to wait to hear all about it till you get over here.”
Nat rejoined that he would be over about noon, and then Joe, in order to keep his mind occupied, set about a general cleaning up of the wireless instruments and a thorough “spring cleaning” of the shanty.
This work occupied him so busily that he had little time to notice the weather, and it was not till a sudden downpour of rain beat a tattoo on the roof of the wireless hut that he looked out. The sky was overcast and quite a brisk sea was running. The wind, too, was blowing pretty strong.
“Nasty weather,” thought Joe, “but that won’t worry the Nomad.”