"It's not against the law to keep a man from going crazy."
"Crazy?"
"I mean what I say. Henshaw is balancing on the ragged edge of insanity. Mark my words! If the news comes of his granddaughter's death, he'll fall on the other side. Why can't you give him some hope in the meantime? Suppose you work up something this afternoon like this: 'Beatrice rallying rapidly. Doctor's much more hopeful.' What do you say?"
"Crazy!" repeated the wireless operator, fascinated. "If the old man loses his reason, we're all in danger."
"He's on the verge of it. I know something of this subject. I've studied it a lot. A common sign is when one fancy occupies a man's brain. Henshaw has two of them. One is what an old soothsayer told him: that he would die by fire at sea; the other is his love for this girl. Between the two, he's in bad shape. Remember that he's an old man."
"You're right, sir; and I'll do it. It may not be legal, but we can't stop for law in a case like this."
McTee nodded and went back to Henshaw, whom he found walking the cabin with a step surprisingly elastic and quick.
"Go back and send another message," he called. "I made a mistake. I didn't send one that was strong enough. They may not understand. What I should have said was—"
"I made it twice as strong as the way you put it," said McTee; and he repeated his phrasing of the message with some exaggeration.
The lean hand of the captain wrung his.