RET answered OIN almost immediately, and in another instant the message was booming in the loud speaker. Belford copied it as it came. “No fish today. Held up by sharks. All safe aloft.”
“Well, that’s a queer message,” said Henry. “Some fishermen with a wireless outfit, I suppose, telling a customer he has nothing for him. Probably been out in a gale, and escaped damage to his top-hamper. I can’t understand about the sharks, though. They might scare away the fish, but I don’t see how they could hold up a boat.”
They resumed their conversation. Time passed. After some hours one of the small boats returned from the Orient, with some of the sailors. The remainder, and the custom officials, were still aboard. It had been decided to proceed to New York without further loss of time. The search would continue during the run, and the sealed cargo holds could be examined at the pier.
Slowly the Orient got under way and headed for the harbor, convoyed by the Iroquois. When they were halfway up the channel, the two lads in the radio shack paused again to listen to another message from the loud speaker. RET was calling OIN, and the signal sounded weak and far away, but when OIN replied, the signals fairly screeched from the loud speaker.
“By George!” cried Henry. “That OIN must be mighty close at hand. The call could hardly be louder if it came from the Orient here. I’m curious to know where it does come from.”
When RET began sending, Belford again wrote down the message. “Put fish in trap when leaving port. Glad top-hamper safe.”
“Jiminy crickets!” said Belford. “That’s a funny one. OIN says he has no fish for RET, and RET turns around and tells him to put the fish in the trap when he leaves port. That doesn’t sound sensible to me.”
He shoved the scraps of paper bearing the messages over to Henry. Jimmy had written the messages close together, like this:
RET de OIN: “No fish today.
Held up by sharks. All safe aloft.”