"Arlington gave no particulars at last announcement."
"Don't make any difference. The boats outside know it. Hullo! What's this? 'S-t-a-t-i-o-n I-s-l-a-n-d.' What's the joke? Somebody calling us without using the code letters?"
"Don't know 'em, maybe," said the chief operator. "Set down what you get and see if it is like mine."
The other did so. They compared notes. That strange message set both operators actively to work. One began swiftly to distribute over the Eastern Atlantic the news that a craft needed help in such and such a latitude and longitude. The other operator, without his hat, ran all the way to the bungalows to give Mr. Norwood and Mr. Drew some very serious news.
SAVED BY RADIO
Jessie Norwood was not tireless. It seemed to her as though her right arm would drop off, she pressed the key of the wireless instrument so frequently. They had written out a brief call of distress, and finally she got it by heart so that Amy did not have to read her the dots and dashes.
But it was a slow process and they had no way of learning if the message was caught and understood by any operator, either ashore or on board a vessel. Hour after hour went slowly by. The Marigold was sinking. The pumps could not keep up with the incoming water; the fuel was almost exhausted and the engines scarcely turned over; the buffeting seas threatened the craft every minute.