“One of the sailors mashed a finger while doing something to the anchor-chain,” replied the surgeon, hurrying on.
Henry entered the radio shack and relieved Belford. The quartermaster called the latter up to the chart-room. Henry adjusted the headphones and almost immediately caught the call of the Iroquois. They were almost at their anchorage, and the call came with startling distinctness. Henry threw open his switch and flashed an acknowledgment of the call. The commandant of the New York district of the Coast Guard was sending a message for Captain Hardwick. Henry wrote it down, copied it neatly on a telegraph blank, and climbed up the ladder through the darkness to the bridge.
The ship’s bell was musically striking the hour. It was seven o’clock. Henry thought he should miss that musical bell after he got ashore. Captain Hardwick stepped into the chart-room, read the message, and wrote a reply. Henry hurried back to his post. He had not been gone five minutes, yet he took the precaution to listen in for a little time. No one was calling him. He spread the telegraph blank on his desk, read the captain’s message, and made ready to send it. He threw over his switch, put his fingers on his key, and started to call headquarters. A few tiny sparks leaped across his gap. Then his key went dead. Aghast, he dropped his phones and began to examine his instruments. But he could see nothing wrong. Everything looked as it had always looked. Again Henry tried his key. There was no response. His face went white. Apparently the costly wireless outfit was ruined. It must have been burned out, and apparently Henry himself was to blame.
CHAPTER XV
UNDER A CLOUD
For a moment Henry was dumbfounded. He could not imagine what had gone wrong. Then it occurred to him that perhaps he had a faulty connection somewhere. He ran his eye and hand over all the lengths of wire in his outfit, but nowhere could he see anything wrong. More than once he tested his key, but it did not come to life. Then he thought of his auxiliary batteries and switched to them. The result was the same. Everything appeared to be all right, but there was no answering flash when he pressed the key. He thought of trying to make some new sort of connection with this secondary battery. The difficulty was that he did not really know what was wrong. He knew enough about the equipment, he felt sure, to find the difficulty. He started to make an examination, but stopped after loosening several screws. It occurred to him that this might take him a long time. He would not work so surely or so accurately as a man trained like the chief electrician. Furthermore, he might, in trying to remedy matters, make them worse.
Henry thought hard for a moment, then decided that the best thing to do would be to tell the captain at once what had happened. The crippling of the Iroquois’ wireless just at this juncture could make no vital difference, for the ship was almost ready to drop her anchor, and if the sailors had got the captain’s message, they would be ready to come aboard. Doubtless the chief electrician would be with them. He could probably repair the damage quickly.
The instant he had come to a decision, Henry raced up to the bridge. “Captain Hardwick,” he reported, “something has gone wrong with the wireless. I cannot get a spark out of it. I was unable to send your last message. I do not know what is wrong, and I thought perhaps I had better not tinker with the instruments, seeing that the chief electrician is likely so near at hand.”
“Something wrong with the wireless?” echoed the captain, his face becoming grave. “What have you done to it?”
“Not a thing, Captain. I handled it just as I have always handled a wireless set. When I came up on the bridge a few moments ago it was working perfectly. When I tried to send your message, the key was dead.”
“Maybe you had a loose connection.”