As he read off the location the other ship was to take in relation to the airplane carrier, she blinked it out in code with the aid of an electric blinker, aimed like a gun at the other ship.
They waited. Then came the answering blinks.
“They got it,” she said simply. “They will go at once to their position.”
“Very good,” was his quiet reply.
For a full hour after that they stood there, he giving orders in a low monotone and she blinking them across the waters to some newly-arrived ship. As the work went forward, her heart swelled with pride. She was part of something really big. Great ships moved in on the dark horizon, ships loaded with oil, airplanes, food, soldiers, everything that is vital to war. Like an usher in some great theater of the sea, she told each ship where its place was to be and it silently glided into position.
“This,” she murmured, “is the life!”
“You are doing very well,” was Riggs’s comment. “Not a mistake yet.”
There were no mistakes. When the last ship had taken its position, there came low orders passed from man to man. Then they began moving on into the night.
Still Sally and Lieutenant Riggs held their places. One ship had forgotten or failed to receive the hour of departure. A question blinked to them was speedily answered. Then they too began to move.
A half hour later a tanker lagging behind was ordered to put on more steam.