“I am just at present,” rejoined Joe; “what do you want?”
“We want to send a message,” was the gruff rejoinder, “and dern quick, too.”
“We don’t handle any commercial business,” replied Joe; “this is a private plant.”
“Oh, we know all about that. That’s just the reason we took the trouble to get a boat and come here,” was the reply.
“Yes, our business is private and confidential, and we don’t want no nosy operator at a public station ashore to know nothing about it,” supplemented the ferret-eyed man.
“Where do you want to send the message?” asked Joe, who by no means liked the situation. The men spoke in a dictatorial, bullying sort of way and appeared prepared to enforce their wishes by violence if no other way offered. Joe had no weapon on him, and the only revolver on the island was in Nat’s trunk.
In reply to Joe’s question, the red-faced individual pointed seaward.
“You mean you want to send a message to a ship?”
“Yes, a message in cipher.”
Joe shook his head.