"I can't make out," was the ensign's disappointed answer. "This old second-hand instrument don't seem to be keyed properly, or else we're out of the zone of the ether waves and only catch snatches of—— Ah!" he finished, jumping for the table again.
After a few moments he lifted his head.
"I caught that," he said. "It was Spanish. 'This is the Chilian war ship Salvadore,' ran the message; 'what do you want?' It was clear as a bell, and was sent from some 'station' fairly close. There comes the answer, and I can't make head or tail to it—the sending instrument is too far away."
"It must come from Punta Arenas, in the strait," averred Matt. "That's a Chilian settlement, and the station there is talking with the war ship."
"Or with that mysterious steamer that passed here a few hours ago," qualified Glennie.
"Py chimineddy!" muttered Carl. "Schust to t'ink dot all dose t'ings vas t'rown troo der air, und——"
"Hist!" warned Matt as Glennie began to take another message off the sounder.
"The supposed war ship answers," said Glennie, "'All right; anything else?'"
"Try and make out what follows, if you can," returned Matt.
The chronometer on the wall ticked off seven minutes.