e small wireless cabin of the
_Kittlewake_. With a receiver clamped over his head, with a motor
purring at his feet and with the hum of wires and coils all about him,
he felt more at ease and at home than he had been for many hours.

His talk with the skipper had confirmed his fears; they were in for a
blow.

"A nor'-easter, sir," he had affirmed, "an' one you'll remember for many
a day. Oh! we'll weather 'er, sir; somehow we'll 'ave to weather 'er.
With the millionaire heiress aboard we'll 'ave to, worse luck for it.
We'll 'ammer down the 'atches an' let 'er ride if we 'ave to but it's a
jolly 'ard shaking habout we'll get, sir. But she's a 'arty,
clean-hulled little boat, she is, an' she'll ride 'er some'ow."

After receiving this information, Curlie had gone directly to the
wireless cabin. He was more anxious than he was willing to admit for the
safety of his two charges, the millionaire's children; for Curlie did
think of them as his charges. He was used to taking burdens on his own
shoulders. It had always been his way.

Just now he was listening in on 600, ready to pick up any message which
might come from the boys on the seaplane. That the _Stormy Petrel_ was a
doomed aircraft he had not the least doubt. The only question which
remained in his mind was whether the _Kittlewake_ or some other craft
would reach her in time to save the two reckless boys.

Now and again as he listened he picked up a message from shore. The
center of the storm, which was fast approaching, was to the east, off
shore. Messages coming from the storm's direction would be greatly
disturbed by static. But to the west the air was still clear.

Now he heard a ship off Long Island Sound speaking for a pilot; now some
shore station at Boston assigned to some ship a harbor space; and now
some powerful broadcasting station sent out to all the world a warning
against the rising storm.

Tiring of all this, for a time he tuned his instrument to 200.

"Be interesting to see how far short wave lengths and high power will
carry," was his mental comment.

Now he caught a faint echo of a song; now a note of laughter; and now
the serious tones of some man speaking with his homefolks.

But what was this? He fancied he caught a familiar whisper. Adjusting
his wires, adding all the amplifying power his instruments possessed, he
listened eagerly; then, to his astonishment heard his own nickname
spoken.

"Hello, Curlie," came to him distinctly. The