“All I hear is that banjo on the after deck,” the Commander laughed low.
“It’s not that, nor anything like it.” Jack was in dead earnest. “It’s nothing on this ship. It comes from far away, sir. Listen hard.”
“You have good ears,” said the Commander. “Radio ears, perhaps. They say there are people who can pick radio messages right out of the air with their unaided ears. I’ve never believed that, but—say!” His voice rose. “I think I do hear something out there!”
“Sure you do, sir!” Jack exclaimed. “It’s getting louder, closer!”
For a space of seconds the two of them, the aged Commander and the boy, stood there listening with breathless attention.
“This may be serious!” the Commander exclaimed at last, as he dashed for the intership telephone.
Jack heard him barking words into the phone. He at last exclaimed loud enough to be heard, “Good boy, Steve! Keep a sharp watch!”
Jack wondered who Steve was, but more than that he wanted to know what made that high-pitched, screaming whistle that had increased in volume until it fairly filled the sky.
“It’s a bomb!” he exclaimed at last. “Sounds just like the ones those Jap dive bombers threw at us!” He wanted to race down the companionway to seek a safer spot. And then again he did not, for was not this a first-class mystery? And was not the Commander standing by? You had to be a real sailor.
“Could be a bomb from some stratosphere plane,” the Commander, who had returned to his post, agreed. “But I doubt it.”