It was his watch one night and he was turning over these things in his mind as the ship plowed steadily onward, when, on going to the door of his cabin for a breath of fresh air, he was surprised to see, not far off, the green starboard and white mast headlights of what, from the distance between the lights on her fore and main masts, appeared to be a fair-sized steamer. She was steaming in the same direction as the Tropic Queen and going quite as fast.
Now, under ordinary circumstances, the sight of another craft on the same course would not have astonished one. But nowadays, when almost every ship is equipped with wireless, the operators of most vessels know precisely what craft are in their vicinity. Even in the case where ships are slow, and not equipped with radio apparatus, they usually signal, by day or night signals, to craft which have wireless, and ask to be reported. So that the sight of this stranger, moving along parallel with the Tropic Queen, gave Jack what was not exactly a thrill, but a sensation of vague uneasiness.
All at once, on her bridge, a red light began to flash. Like a blood-shot eye it winked through the dark night.
“By Jove, signals!” exclaimed Jack.
He got his signal code book and was able to read off, by his knowledge of Morse, the letters and words the strange craft was sending, as distinctly as if they had been printed. But they simply formed a meaningless jumble.
“It’s a code message to someone on board this ship,” muttered Jack to himself, as the crimson eye ceased to wink.
As it stopped transmitting its untranslatable—except to one who held the key—message through the darkness, the strange ship began to drop back under reduced speed. Whatever its mission, it had been accomplished. That much was plain. Jack wished that the jumble of words before him was as clear.
He sat there racking his brains over the matter till almost midnight, when Sam relieved him. The assistant operator looked at the message, over which Jack was knitting his brows, with astonishment.
“What in the world is that?” he asked.
“I wish I knew,” was Jack’s enigmatic reply, “but there’s one man on board this ship who does, and I’m inclined to think that his name is James Jarrold.”