All the morning long the commander remained at his post on the bridge. The storm was easing up, but the high seas made the towing of the Rayolite difficult. Too much strain on the towing hawser would cause it to part. With too little tension, the Rayolite was harder to handle. The captain, with his long experience, knew that he dare not relax his vigilance for a moment, but when mess gear was piped, he turned the control of the cutter over to Lieutenant Hill with a few words of caution, and made his way to his cabin.
Impatiently Henry had been waiting for this move, and hardly had Captain Hardwick reached his quarters before the lad was knocking at his door.
“Well, Henry,” smiled the commander as the young wireless operator entered the cabin, “what can I do for you?”
“Do you see this jacket?” asked Henry, with feverish eagerness, pulling off the garment in question. “When I got wet yesterday while that small boat was being cut loose, I ran into the stateroom and grabbed this coat out of the wardrobe. I put it on in place of my own wet one. This morning I got to feeling around in the pocket in search of a pencil and this is what I found.”
From the pocket Henry drew out the entire mass of rubbish and dumped it on the captain’s table. Then he sorted out the two finishing nails and handed them to the captain. “They looked to me exactly like the nail Mr. Sharp found in the damaged field coil,” explained Henry.
The commander examined the nails with interest. Unlocking a drawer in his desk, he drew out the nail Mr. Sharp had given him and laid it beside the others. The three were identical, though of course the one was bent.
“Whose coat is that?” demanded Captain Hardwick.
“I can’t say for sure, sir, but I think it’s Black’s. Belford says it is.”
“I thought I gave orders not to say anything about this matter,” said the captain severely, an angry frown wrinkling his forehead.
“I haven’t been talking about it. I merely asked Mr. Belford if the coat was his. I didn’t tell him about the nails.”