Jack hurried to the wireless room. Young Poffer declared that he had received no wireless, nor intercepted any message which might have any bearing on the identity of the strange ship. On the bridge, the ship’s officers were in excited consultation. The warship was drawing closer every moment. She was black and squat, with two fat funnels from which volumes of dark smoke rolled. At her bow was a smother of white foam showing the speed at which she was being pushed.
“Ach, now comes it!” exclaimed Poffer the next instant. He wrote rapidly and then handed the message to Jack. The wireless boy read:
“Heave to at once.
“Dutton, commanding His Majesty’s ship Berwick.”
“I’ll take it forward right away!” exclaimed Jack. “You listen with all your ears for any more messages, Hans.”
“You bet you my life I will undt den some,” Hans promised. “Vot you dink, dey shood us up, Jack?”
“I don’t know. I suppose if we don’t heave to, they will,” said the wireless boy as he hurried off.
“Chust as I thought,” declared Captain Rollok, after he had read the message.
“Shall I tell Hans to send back word we’ll stop?” asked Jack.
“Stop! I vouldn’t stop for der whole British navy,” declared Captain Rollok vehemently.