Roy hurried from the wheel-house and vanished in the dark. Hour after hour the Lycoming raced toward the Empress. The seas were as mountainous and the winds as fierce as any the Lycoming had encountered, but the ship was running with them and its passage was less rough than it had been at any time since the tempest struck her. Unable to see the waves any longer, Roy almost believed that the storm was subsiding. Every quarter hour Roy called the Empress. At each call he got back the same reply. The Empress was battered but still safe. She was dragging her anchors. Every time Roy talked to her, the signals seemed more distinct. There could be no question that the Lycoming was getting nearer.
Four hours passed. A terrified darky cabin-boy crept into the wireless house. “De cap’n say tell de Empress to show her search-light,” he said.
Roy signaled the Empress, “Show your search-light.”
Back came the answer, “Search-light out of commission.”
“Tell the captain the Empress’ search-light is broken,” said Roy to the young darky.
“Does I haf to go back to de cap’n, Mr. Mercer?” cried the colored boy, shaking with fright.
“No,” said Roy, jumping to his feet. “Stay here,” and he disappeared in the darkness.
“Tell ’em to burn lights and send up rockets every few minutes,” ordered the captain, when Roy had delivered his message.
Roy regained the wireless house and signaled the Empress.
“We’ve been doing that for hours,” came back the reply. “Supply almost exhausted.”