Dr. Hambrough's reminiscences were interrupted by the wireless man entering the observation room.
"What's amiss now, Callaghan?" asked the Captain, who could read bad news on the Irishman's face.
"Something wrong, sir," replied the operator. "I can't call up the flagship, nor any other ship or station, if it comes to that. I was very particular, sir, when I transferred the gear——"
"When was it last used?" asked Vaughan.
"At seven o'clock last Tuesday, sir."
"That was before the storm. I shouldn't wonder if the same electrical disturbance that crippled our motors has not played the wireless a nasty trick. Any way, Callaghan, see what you can do, Unfortunately, we have not Monsieur de la Fosse with us."
The Irishman backed out of the cabin.
"Must make the best of a bad job," continued the Captain without visible signs of annoyance at the latest misfortune. "At any rate, we shall have to use discretion when we tackle the business with the tramp. What course do you suggest, Mr. Dacres?"
"I think we ought to wait until we overhaul the vessel, sir; then, when he have discovered her nationality, we can act accordingly. It's a seventy-five per cent chance that she's either a British or a Yankee."
"But, surely, if she were," demurred Setchell, "that rascal wouldn't have the cheek to be taken on board?"