ride
out the gale. The chances aren't big for us, but--well, Joe, we're
sailors, and can take our medicine."

Joe smiled grittily as he edged away from the wheel after his chum had
taken it.

"At least, if we go down, we go down in command of our own ship!" he
yelled bravely in Tom's ear through the wild racket of the gale.

Then Joe went below. The storage batteries held electricity enough to
operate the few lights and keep the wireless going at intervals for
some hours yet.

Once, in the minutes that dragged by, Hank Butts thought of the fine
spread he had been instructed to serve all hands that night. But no
one else was thinking of food now. Coffee would have been more to the
purpose, but to start a galley fire was to take the risk of adding
fire at sea to the already more than sufficient perils of those aboard
the "Restless."

Every few minutes Captain Tom Halstead called down through the
speaking tube that connected him with Joe Dawson at the sending table.
Always Joe's calm answer came, the same:

"Our wireless spark hasn't picked up any other ship yet."

Then, just as frequently, Joe would rest his hand on the sending key
again, and send crashing off into space the signal:

"C.Q.D.!" The three letters that carry always the same message of
despair across the waves.

"C.Q.D.!"--the wireless signal of distress. "Help wanted, or we
perish!"

CHAPTER XXI

THE SPARK FINDS A FRIEND THROUGH THE GALE

The time had dragged on far into the night. Joe was still at the
wireless sending table, sleepless, patient, brave--a sailor born and
bred.

Jasper, like many another rascal a superstitious coward in the face of
impending death, was seeking to appease the sting of his conscience by
doing everything in his power to make amends in these grave moments.
He stood by, pallid-faced yet collected enough to obey any order
instantly.

Captain Tom remained on deck all the time now, though Hank often
relieved him briefly at the wheel. Both Hepton and Jasper stood by to
help as deck-hands. Powell Seaton came up on deck occasionally, though
he remained more in the motor room.

Again and again Joe signaled--always that desperately appealing
"C.Q.D.!" It was all the signal he needed to send out. Wherever heard,
on land or water, the first operator to catch it would break in at
once with a demand for further particulars.

Yet Joe's soul grew sick within him as time passed, and no such break
came through the s