It was after midnight when Roy sought his bunk. But first he went to his instrument and listened in for several minutes. If the sea was as calm elsewhere as it was about the Lycoming, he did not believe any ship could be in distress—unless it might be from fire. Always, since he had watched the flames on that Brooklyn pier, he was thinking about fire at sea. If any vessel needed help, he did not intend that it should lack assistance through negligence on his part.
When finally Roy retired, he was weary enough. Yet for a long time he could not sleep. The unaccustomed throbbing of the great engines, the vibration of the ship, and the unfamiliar movement as the vessel rode the long, smooth swells, kept Roy awake for a long time. Finally he did sleep, but presently dreamed that Captain Lansford was a real dragon and was about to drown him. Roy awoke with a cry of terror and found that his coat had slipped from its peg and fallen across his face. In another minute he was fast asleep again, and this time he slumbered soundly until six bells in the morning watch, when the striking of the ship’s bell awoke him.
Day after day the weather continued fair and the sea calm. Even off Cape Hatteras, most famed of weather-breeders, the sky was like turquoise and the sea like glass. On the second day out Roy was delighted to discover a school of porpoises off the port bow. He had never seen porpoises before, but had often read about these huge playful fish-like creatures; and when he saw them leaping out of the water, one after another, like so many runners clearing hurdles, he knew at once what they were. To his delight they came close to the ship, and for a long time swam ahead of it, as though towing the great vessel. Roy knew that the Lycoming was making at least fifteen knots an hour or better than a mile in four minutes. Yet these big creatures kept pace with her with no apparent effort; and when finally they swam off, they darted away from the Lycoming as though she were anchored.
“Whew!” whistled Roy. “If we’re going fifteen knots an hour, how fast are those fellows moving now?”
As the steamer drew into southern waters, the gray-green color of the ocean took on a bluish tint. Long before the ship entered the Gulf of Mexico the water was of the most beautiful deep blue, the color being emphasized by little whitecaps. Along the Florida coast the steamer drew so close to shore that Roy could distinctly see the wide beaches, with their crowds of bathers and the many automobiles rushing over the smooth sands. Distinctly he could make out palm-trees and other growths new and wonderful to him. Often he watched the water in the hope that he might discover a manatee, but those strange animals frequent shallow waters and Roy saw none of them.
On the way down the coast there was little for Roy to do. Occasional messages came for the captain; passengers sent messages infrequently; and Roy regularly caught the weather signals and picked from the air the nightly news-letter as long as his instruments could catch the ever fainter pulsations in the ether. These he continued to send to the captain by messenger. Before the journey ended, the Lycoming had passed out of range of the transmitting instrument. After that Roy had only the weather-report to send.
The first time this occurred, the captain’s steward appeared at the wireless house and soon struck up a conversation with Roy. Casually he asked for the daily news-letter. Roy guessed that he had been sent by the captain expressly for this news-letter. But if that were true, the captain gave no evidence of the fact. He continued to ignore Roy and gave no indication of any interest in Roy’s work. To all outward appearances he was merely tolerating Roy’s presence on board because he was compelled to do so. And Roy could see no way to gain the captain’s favor.
After a quick and uneventful run across the Gulf, the Texas coast was sighted, and five days after leaving New York the Lycoming was off the port of Galveston.