"Call for the ship, sir," he reported. "No bloomin' error this time. SVP as sure's my name's Plover."
Mostyn kicked off the blankets and rolled out of the bunk. He staggered as he stood up, and would have been glad of Plover's assistance. But the Watcher, having delivered his message, had gone back to his post.
With a terrific buzzing in his ears Peter almost dragged himself along the alleyway and up the bridge-ladder. Many a time he had regretted the absence of a second wireless officer. Now, above everything, he wanted an efficient substitute; but, of course, none was available.
Entering the wireless-cabin, he picked up the telephones and gave the acknowledgment. Then, a pencil in his trembling hand, he waited for the text of the message to come through:
"SW. TLB. FEW. CNI. TLXQ. VP AELD TNI PU. AEMQ".
Yes, Peter had that all right, but, ever on the cautious side, he asked for the message to be repeated.
"Here you are," he said, handing the duplicate message to his assistant. "Nip off with that to Captain Bullock."
"Don't you look rummy, sir?" remarked Plover, noting for the first time Mostyn's drawn features.
"Am a bit," admitted Peter. "I'll be all right by the morning. Skip along."
Watcher Plover "skipped along" at his usual stolid pace to the Old Man's cabin, while Peter, almost incapable of controlling his trembling limbs, somehow contrived to regain his bunk.