“And you as rum as they come,” thought Drake, as he walked away.
Cray watched him go.
“Wonder if he knew what was on the air just now,” he scowled. “If I shove it to the Old Man will he—well, this time I’m a wireless man. Next time we’ll see.”
To him, too, this strange ship was saying, “Hush!” Yet his pencil slid over flimsy paper. He rose with a message, took it to the captain on the bridge.
“Rum lot aboard, sir.” He handed the message over, winked.
The captain started, backed away into a wing of the bridge, scanned that message.
“You are right,” he replied. “This came in code, I presume?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then why not leave it in code. We don’t want the world knowing.”
“Nobody’s seen it, sir, but me.”