A sudden roll of the ship sent Henry reeling back against the wall of the wireless shack, and he realized what he had not noticed while he was still seated and engrossed in the wireless, namely, that the sea was evidently becoming rough. Henry would have been glad to stay on watch with this new operator, but the latter drew a soiled dime novel from his blouse and tilted back in his chair to read, utterly regardless of the fact that a visitor was present. The chief electrician frowned but said nothing. And Henry, seeing his presence was not desirable, turned to the chief operator.
“Would there be any objection to my looking about the deck?” he asked. “I’ve never been on a ship at sea before, and I’d like to know what it is like at night on deck.”
“Just come up on the bridge,” said the wireless man. “There’s nobody on deck, probably, but the man on watch in the bow. You’ll find Mr. Hill and the quartermaster on watch on the bridge. Maybe you’d like to stand watch yourself a while. Would you?”
“I’d be tickled to death,” exclaimed Henry.
“Then come to our quarters and I’ll fit you out. You’ll find it pretty chilly up on the bridge.”
Henry turned to say good-night to the assistant operator. The latter already had his nose buried in his novel. Henry could not help but notice how the fellow’s fingers were stained with tobacco, and what an evil look seemed to lurk on his countenance. He did not disturb him, but quietly followed Mr. Sharp out of the wireless shack. “I’d hate to trust the safety of the ship to a man like that,” he thought, but said nothing.
The instant the door was opened, his attention was drawn to other things. Across the deck an icy blast of wind was sweeping that made Henry shiver. From above came an eerie, humming, vibrating noise, as the rigging quivered in the breeze. Only soft lights were visible—such indirect illumination as shone through ports or windows or the deck lights,—discs of heavy glass set flush in the planking underfoot to let the sunlight into the interior of the ship. Aloft twinkled the ship’s sailing lights. Beyond the rails all was inky darkness, and it was a darkness that seemed almost to be alive. Out of it came sounds such as Henry had never heard before—the swish and sweep of swaying waters, the crashing of crested waves, the interminable roar of endless leagues of rolling billows.
Henry was amazed to find how the ship was moving up and down. He tried to imitate the wireless men, who skipped quickly around the after end of the wireless shack, but a lurch of the ship sent him flying across the deck. He brought up with a jolt at the leeward rail. With a chuckle he turned about and made for the door of the operator’s stateroom which the electrician was now holding open for him. A broad band of light illumined his way.
As Henry stepped through the doorway, he could see quite well what a snug little place this stateroom was. Three bunks, one above the other, occupied most of one side of the compartment. There were also a tall wardrobe, a washbowl with mirror above it, and a table with several chairs. On this table were a number of books and magazines. A young man sat at the table, his elbows on the edge of it, his chin propped on his hands, so deeply engrossed in a book he was reading that he was unconscious of the entrance of Henry and Mr. Sharp. By the device on the young man’s sleeve Henry saw that he, too, was an assistant wireless man.
“Jim,” said the chief electrician.