They hurried below; past the empty drawing-room and along silent corridors, where the stillness was broken only by an occasional snore. Wally turned down Norah’s alley-way and led the way to the empty cabin, running ahead to glance out first through the port-hole, in sudden fear lest the flashes should have ceased. He made way for Mr. Dixon with a relieved little sigh.
“You can see for yourself,” he said, shortly.
The chief officer’s face was invisible, after he had peered out—but the change in his voice was laughable.
“Well, I back down,” he whispered, “I guess you kids knew more about it than I did. There’s certainly some little game going on there.” He leaned out for another long look. “I believe it’s Morse code,” he said, finally; “it’s hard to tell at this angle. But it’s signalling, safe enough.”
“Well, hurry!” Wally said. “Jim is mounting guard alone, and if it’s that big sailor, he’ll simply wipe him out.”
“Sure thing,” Mr. Dixon agreed. “Larsen is a holy terror when he gets going.” He gave hasty directions as they tip-toed up the alley-way.
“All right, Jim?” Wally whispered.
“All serene,” Jim answered. “Haven’t heard a thing, and there’s no light coming from over the door.”
“Oh, he’d be quite cute enough to block up the skylight!” Mr. Dixon agreed. “Well, you boys had better keep back and guard the mouth of the alley-way, and leave this thing to the men and me.”
“Us!” said Wally and Jim together, in a sepulchral duet of woe. “Not much—it’s our game! We’ve got to see it out, sir!”