ed to take the papers yourself, will you trust me, or Joe, to
board the first steamer we pick up by wireless?"

"Wh--what do you advise, Halstead?" queried Seaton, with the air and
tone of a man tortured by uncertainty and hesitation.

"I advise, sir, your making a very definite move of one kind or
another, without the loss of another hour," rejoined young Halstead,
almost sharply. "Simply drifting in a fog won't settle anything."

"Oh, I know that only too well," replied Powell Seaton, desperately.

"Let us," proposed Skipper Tom, "take a northerly course. We'll try to
pick up a Rio-bound steamship. Failing in that, let us put in for
land, you to send the papers off by registered mail--or I'll take
train for New York and go by the first boat."

"I--I'll do it," agreed Powell Seaton, falteringly. "Halstead, my boy,
I've pondered and worried over this until my brain almost refuses to
act. I'm glad to have your clearer brain to steady me--to guide me."

"Are your papers sealed?" asked Captain Tom, after a little further
thought.

"No; but I can soon attend to that."

"I'd go below and do it, then, sir."

"Thank you; I will."

Powell Seaton, as he started down the after companionway, trembled so
that compassionate Halstead aided him. Then, returning, the Motor
Boat Club boy stepped steadily forward to the bridge deck.

Studying the time, Tom determined to keep to the present course for
fifteen minutes more, and at the same speed, then to head about due
north. This, he figured, would keep him about in the path of
southmoving coast steamships.

Hank, who was still at the wheel, took the orders. Joe, after a glance
at the bridge deck chronometer, dropped below on his way to his
sending table. The crash of his call soon sounded at the spark-gap and
quivered on its lightning way up the aerials.

"Nothing happening in my line," announced Dawson, soberly, when, some
minutes later, he returned to deck.

Captain Tom stood by, almost idly attending to the fog-horn, though
Butts would have been able to do that as well as steer.

"Did you get anything at all?" Halstead inquired.

"Nothing; not a click by way of answer," Joe Dawson responded. "I had
half a hope that I might be able to pick up a ship that could relay
back to another, and so on to New York. If that had happened, I was
going to ask the companies direct, in New York, when their next boats
would leave port. I'll do that, if I get a chance. I'm bound to kn