“Here is the Iowa. What is it?”
Something peculiar about the sending struck Jack, but he went ahead.
“This is the Tropic Queen. I have a message from Colonel Minturn to Washington. It must be rushed through.”
“Very well, transmit,” came the answer; but once more the curious ending of the other wireless man struck him forcibly.
“I don’t believe that is the Iowa at all,” he muttered to himself. “I never heard a man-o’-war operator sending like that. It sounds more like—like—by hookey! I’ve got it. It’s that fellow on the Endymion,—the craft that Jarrold is so much interested in.”
Just then, winging through the air, came the short, sharp, powerful sending of the Iowa.
“Hullo, there, Tropic Queen, this is the Iowa. Who is that fellow butting in?”
“I don’t know,” Jack flashed back. “Re-tune your instruments so that he can’t crib this message I’m going to send you. Tune them to man-of-war pitch. From what I heard of his sending, his batteries are too weak to reach such high power.”
“All right,” was the brief reply.
The two instruments were then run up to a pitch which only the most powerful supply of “juice” could give them. Then came the test and everything was found to be working finely.