He said good-bye to Black and reported to Captain Hardwick. When the commander was alone, he said to himself: “The trail grows warm. Black went to supper at the first pipe of the whistle. He likely finished before the others, and went out. Nails and hammer lay invitingly beside the stairway. Unobserved, he snatched up the hammer and some nails, and thrust them into his coat. A little later a nail of that same kind got into the wireless outfit. Later still, nails and hammer are found in Black’s possession, or, what amounts to the same thing.”
The captain frowned. “But Black was asleep when that nail got into the wireless,” he commented. He pondered a moment. “By George! I wonder if he was asleep,” he exclaimed. “Everything hinges on that. How am I going to find out?”
CHAPTER XIX
THE CULPRIT DISCOVERED
Night had come before the captain left the bridge. As he paced back and forth he turned over in his mind the problem of the finishing nail. Black could not have driven the nail into the field coil if he was really asleep at the time he was believed to have been. Was Black asleep or not? How was he ever to discover? Again and again the commander of the Iroquois asked himself that question, as he moved about the bridge. He could see no way to solve the problem.
Gradually the wind fell, and with its fall the sea grew less violent. The cloud rack thinned. Vigilantly the captain watched the sky. Finally what he was looking for appeared. The clouds parted for a space, revealing the purple vault of heaven, studded with shining stars. Quickly he seized his instruments and ascertained his position. Now he knew exactly where the Iroquois was. The position of the cutter was but little different from that in which his dead reckoning put her. The captain rectified his position on the chart, and then, vastly relieved, he turned the cutter over to Lieutenant Hill and went to his cabin. The Rayolite was towing securely, wind and sea were growing calmer with every hour, and the cutter’s position was known exactly. He had done a hard job and done it well. No wonder the commander was gratified.
If only he could handle the other problem as satisfactorily. But how? That was the question he asked himself over and over. Rollin brought the commander food. When he had eaten, Captain Hardwick got out the three finishing nails. He sat looking at them for a while, his brow wrinkled in deep thought. “If Sparks is fit to be seen,” he said to himself, “I ought to show him these. He might be able to suggest some course of action that would help.”
Captain Hardwick arose and went forward to the sick bay. He met the surgeon at the door. “How’s Mr. Sharp?” asked the commander.
“He’s pretty sick, Captain, but I think he’ll pull through all right. He’s got a fine constitution and is tough as nails. But we’ll have to take care of him.”
The captain seemed to hesitate. “I—I suppose it wouldn’t do to talk to him?” he asked.
“Well, that would depend. It would hardly do any harm to talk to him a moment and wish him a quick recovery. It wouldn’t be wise to talk to him, though, if your conversation would excite him.”