"They say they'll try," announced Glennie presently. "Now," he finished, removing the ear phones, "I'd like to know what you're trying to do, Matt."
"It's a cinch, I think," replied Matt, "that you've been talking with that steamer that passed the headland, bound south, a few hours ago."
"No doubt about that."
"She hauled down the British ensign and hauled up the Chilian flag as she passed."
"Exactly, and that looks suspicious, although it might be explained."
"She says she's a Chilian war ship," went on Matt, "but she had no guns. If she's not a war ship, she's not Chilian; and if she's not Chilian, she's Japanese; and if she's Japanese, she belongs to the Sons of the Rising Sun, who are trying to lay a trap for us. Here's where we have a chance to clip the dragon's claws—and we've virtually accomplished it by wireless."
Matt whirled away.
"Gaines," said he, "you and Clackett strip those wires off that tree and call Speake down from the top of the hill. Carl," he added, "you help Glennie clear these instruments out of the periscope room. They've served their purpose better than I ever dreamed they would when we took them aboard at Buenos Ayres."
Gaines and Clackett at once shinned up the iron ladder to carry out their orders. Carl and Glennie began carrying the wireless machine into the steel room abaft the periscope chamber. Meanwhile Matt was overhauling some charts, which he had spread out on top of the locker.
Dick, Speake, Clackett, and Gaines—the two latter with the coil of wire and the aërial points—came down into the periscope room before Matt was through.