"Yes," answered the observer, putting down his glasses into the socket for an instant.
"Then give her a message on the international code. It's her last chance. She'll be on the infernal things in another two minutes."
"Right-o! Here goes!" and, uncoiling the long aerial wire, he tapped out just one word on the sending key:--
"M I N E S!!!"
"Good. If that fails, the ship's done for!" ejaculated Fisker, as he watched eagerly for the ship to change her course.
On came the vessel, quite oblivious of the danger. She was less than a cable's length from the string of mines, and still steaming fast, when Dastral noted some movement about the deck, where a dozen or so of the crew stood just for'ard of the bridge, in the waist, gazing intently at the 'plane.
"Heavens! It's too late!" gasped the pilot, as he saw the steamer's bows running dead on towards the very centre of the floating mines.
"No, she may just do it," he ventured to his observer, as he saw the sudden commotion on board.
Suddenly, out of the wireless room, the operator, evidently carrying the message, dashed up the companion way to the bridge, flourishing a piece of paper in his hand, and shouted:--
"Mines in the vicinity, sir!"