“New wireless man!” Roy heard the captain roar, and though he did not mean to eavesdrop, he stood as though rooted to the deck. “New wireless man!” cried the captain. “What do I want of a new wireless man? I’ve got the best wireless man afloat. Go back and tell ’em so.”
“But I understood that you wanted to make a change—that your present operator is too young.”
“You did, eh? Well, he is a bit young, but I can trust him absolutely. And he’s got more brains than your whole outfit put together. It’ll be a cold day when I go to sea without him. Good-day, sir.”
The surprised Marconi man turned about and made for the pier. Roy fled to the wireless house. His heart was beating wildly. His whole soul was singing. He had made good. The captain wanted him to stay. The captain did like him, despite his rough manner. His jubilation was so great he could hardly sit still.
Presently his brow puckered. How was he to get the captain to tell him that he was to stay? An idea came to Roy. He jumped to his feet and ran down to the captain’s cabin.
“Come in,” said a gruff voice, in answer to his knock.
“I’ve come to say good-bye, sir,” said Roy. “You know my three months are up. I am sorry, sir, for I should like to stay on the Lycoming. Good-bye, sir.”
The captain jumped to his feet. “Who told you to leave the ship?” he roared.
“No one now, sir, but when I came aboard you said I was to stay three months. The time is up. I supposed you wanted me to leave.”
“I don’t. That is, if I’ve got to have a wireless man aboard you might as well stay. I don’t want to have to break another one in. You are not relieved from duty. Go to your quarters, sir.”