In a few moments a gray-haired negro appeared at the door.
“Sam,” said the purser, “this is Mr. Mercer, our new wireless man. He’s a particular friend of mine and I want you to look after him as a favor to me. Besides, you want to gain his friendship yourself. You can never tell when you may need his help. He talks to other ships and to folks ashore, with these instruments here. If we get into trouble at sea he can summon help, even if we are five hundred miles out in the ocean.”
The darky’s eyes opened wide in astonishment. “I done heerd o’ dis yere wireless telefagry, Massa Robbins,” he said, “but I ain’t never seen none before. Can he really call help like dat?”
“Indeed he can, Sam, and if we need a policeman, he can get one quick.”
The steward looked at Roy with awe. Roy rose and shook hands with him. “I hope you are going to be my friend, Sam,” he said cordially.
“’Deed I is, Mr. Mercer. ’Deed I is, suh,” and he bowed himself out with Roy’s message for the captain.
Roy grinned at the purser. “Sounds funny to have him call me Mr. Mercer,” he said. “I suppose he’ll get over it when he knows me better.”
“You’ll never be anything but Mr. Mercer on shipboard,” explained the purser. “As wireless man, you are entitled to be called Mr. Mercer, and we are particular about such things. But I’m going to call you Roy when we’re alone, if you don’t mind.”
With a smile Roy laid aside his wireless instruments and produced his package of crullers.