ked.

"Yes, or maybe send him back on the first ship across. They'll turn him
inside out in New York. I don't believe he'll leave you anything in his
will, Tommy."

Tom laughed. "It would be bad if he got to Germany, wouldn't it?" he
asked. "I mean with all the information he's got."

"It would be worse than bad," said Mr. Conne. "It might be disastrous."

He moved on, clinging to the hand-rail along the stateroom tier to
steady himself, for the wind was rising to a gale and driving the sea in
black mountains which burst in spray upon the deck, wetting Tom through
and through as he scurried back to the wireless room for the night's
long vigil.

CHAPTER XXII

SOS

Bzzz ... bzzz, bzzz, bzzz...... bzzz ... bz, bz, bz, bz ... bz ... ...
bzzz, bz, bz ... bz, bzzz ... bzzz, bz, bzzz, bzzz.

"What is it?" Tom asked, standing in the doorway of the wireless room
and looking at the black outline of Cattell's form as he sat at the
instrument shelf. He could hardly see Cattell for the darkness. It
seemed darker, even, than it did out on deck. Some small object fell,
and the sound seemed emphasized by the darkness.

"Huh, there goes my paperweight again," said Cattell; "it's getting
rough, isn't it?"

Tom groped around and found it; then, standing, grasped the door-jamb
again.

"I had to grab the hand-rail coming along," he said; "do you want to
turn in?"

"No; I couldn't sleep, anyway; I might as well be here."

"What was that you took?" Tom asked, as he clambered up into the berth
and settled himself comfortably. He, too, could not sleep.

"Same old stuff," said Cattell; "_To the day._ They're drinking each
other's health again."

"I got that a couple of times," said Tom; "what is it, anyway?"

Cattell reached out and pushed the door shut. "Must be pretty chizzly
for those fellows up in the crow's-nest," he said.

"Yes; it's queer to hear them calling in the dark, isn't it?"

"You didn't see any lights in the stateroom ports as you came along, did
you?" Cattell asked.

"Nope; there's a sailor marching back and forth outside along the
starboard tier. Everything's as dark as pitch."

They were silent for a few minutes, listening to the rising wind and to
the sound of the spray as it broke over the deck. Cattell folded a
despatch blank and stuffed it in the crack of the door to stop its
rattling.

"It's comfortable in here, anyway," said Tom; "it's kind of like
camping."

Again there was silence