“Too bad,â€� said Terror Carson, “I got this outfit, thinking it would be a good way to keep clear of government craft. But I left in too much ef a hurry to get an operator. I’ve been trying to master it but I guess I haven’t got the brains, and if I haven’t—nobody else on board has.â€�
Nothing more was heard or seen of the wireless apparatus just then, and Raynor was glad he had denied knowledge of it, for otherwise he would have been compelled to work it to keep clear of any ships that might be cruising in the vicinity and offer a chance of escape. But it gave a queer sidelight into the cleverness of Terror Carson. Not many seal poachers would have thought of such a trick to dodge the cruisers sent after them.
Still, he had nobody to work it, which certainly reduced its value to nil. How Raynor longed to get a chance to set the wireless up and operate the key! He felt sure that were he in a position to do so, he could soon have summoned help.
But, as he was fain to admit to himself as he went about his kitchen tasks, he might just as well have wished for the moon. He did not even know where Carson had locked up the temporarily useless radio set.
The next day a terrific Arctic storm descended on the Polly Ann. The wind blew with a velocity that threatened to tear the sails from the bolt ropes, and icy sleet and snow enveloped the craft as if in a white blanket.
She scudded forward under almost bare poles. Raynor found cause during those hours to admire Terror Carson’s schooner, which was the staunchest, swiftest craft he had ever seen. It appeared marvelous that anything built by man’s hands could endure the merciless racking the Polly Ann submitted to.
Work in the galley was only carried on with the greatest difficulty during this period. The men forward lived on water and biscuit and hot meals were cooked only for the officers.
And all this time Raynor was profoundly ignorant of the destination of the storm-driven schooner, or if she was nearing it. By the amount of northing that had been made, he knew that they were getting into the region of seals, but Terror Carson gave no sign that he intended to lie to.
In the midst of the white storm an incident happened which, looked at afterward, was amusing, but at the time it occurred was actually alarming. Not long after the dinner hour, while the storm was at its height, the schooner struck some solid object with a dull thud that made her shake from head to stern.
“Land ho! We’ve struck!� bawled some of the crew.