“Then I suppose you have taken your examinations for second-class operator.”
“Yes. And that old dumb-bell flunked me,” and again the lad swore viciously.
But Henry had little time to ponder over the grievances of the radio man, unreasonable though he believed them to be. Every minute was filled with interest. Particularly was he pleased when a message came out of the air for the Iroquois, ordering her to proceed to Boston to take aboard certain stores at the Boston Navy Yard. Henry had never dreamed of seeing Boston, and he was overjoyed at the prospect. It might give him an opportunity to see Bunker Hill and other historic spots he had read about.
The Iroquois, in her pursuit of the derelict, had run well up the New England coast, and it was not much out of her way to touch at Boston. The captain headed direct for that city, and Henry was looking forward to seeing, within a few hours, the scene of the Boston tea party, when another message came whining through the ether that made Henry for a time forget all about Boston. For this new message Henry read in the radio shack as young Black, who was on watch, copied it down. It read as follows:
“First mate nearly dead with fever.
Can you give medical assistance?
Heard you give your location. Our
position is forty-three north latitude,
sixty-five west longitude. Will stand
by for reply.”