He drew out a paper and handed it to the ex-operator.
“Here’s the cipher code and the message. Now get busy and tap it out and then we can vamoose.”
Joe was entirely powerless to aid himself. The door was thick and strong and there was no possibility of his being able to open it; and, even had he been able to, it wouldn’t have done any good. His captors were burly, strong men and looked vicious to a degree, and had he managed to get out they would assuredly have given him rough treatment. No; there was nothing for it but to remain quiet and be keenly alert to what was going forward in the room outside.
The red-faced man sat down to the key and at first fiddled clumsily with it. But he soon acquired confidence and then began to flash out his message. By listening Joe readily learned that he was trying to raise the steamer Vesta from San Diego for Vancouver, Canada. After a long interval Joe saw a grin of satisfaction come over the man’s face.
“He’s raised her,” thought Joe, and he was correct in his conjecture. Flash-crackle-bang! went the spark, and Joe by close listening heard the man instruct the operator on the Vesta to deliver a message to a man named Albert Carter. Then followed a jumble of code words utterly meaningless to Joe.
The sender repeated his message and then rose from the table.
“Well, I’ve done the best I can,” he said, “and I guess it’s all right.”
“Sure it is. Anyhow, he can’t kick. You’ve done what you could to help out a pal.”
“Let’s be getting along, then. I’ve no fancy for sticking around here.”
“What about him?”