“And she’s in trouble?”
Mr. Metcalf was one of those men who leap to instant conclusions. Already he was considering the best method of proceeding to the distressed—as he thought—ship’s assistance.
“No, in no trouble, sir. She had a message for a passenger, but in the middle of it something happened to our aërials.”
“They’ve parted?”
“I don’t know, sir. Anyhow, I’m going aloft to see. I came to report to you.”
“Nonsense, Ready, you can’t go aloft to-night. I’ll send a man.”
“Pardon me, Mr. Metcalf,” broke in Jack. “I don’t want to be disrespectful, but there’s not a man on this ship who could repair those aërials but myself.”
“But you are not used to going aloft,” protested Mr. Metcalf.
“I’ve been up on the Ajax’s masts in worse weather than this to fix anything that was wrong,” he said. “I’ll be all right. And besides, I must go. It’s my duty to do so.”
“Very well, then, but for heaven’s sake be careful. You’ve no idea what the trouble is?”