Sally had left her three hours before listening in at the secret radio. Now she herself took a turn at listening. After a half hour of absolute radio silence she dragged the headset off her ears, rolled the radio in her blankets, drew on a raincoat, then slipped out into the storm.
Slipped was exactly the right word. The instant she was outside the wind took her off her feet. She went down with a slithering rush and slid fifteen feet to come up at last against a bulkhead.
“It must be storming,” she said to a sailor who volunteered to help her to her feet.
“I-I shouldn’t wonder,” he laughed, just as they went down in a heap.
“Guess this is a good place to crawl,” he suggested, setting the example. “The wind comes through here something fierce. Not-not so bad up there for-forward.”
A Sailor Helped Sally to Her Feet
Following his example, Sally crept on hands and knees to a more sheltered spot. Then, getting to their feet and gripping hands, they made a dash for it.
At the end of this wild race they were caught by one more mad rush of wind and piled up against the radio cabin door. Sally was on top.
“This,” she said, “is where I get off. Thanks. Thanks a lot.”