Manila and the
_Buffalo_ were homage of the most straightforward sort.

For Peter Moore as wireless operator was swift of the swiftest; he
despatched with a lightning lilt, and the keenness of his ears, for
which he was famous on more than one ocean, made it possible for him to
receive signals with rarely the necessity for a repeat.

Manila, obeying orders, was standing by, and Peter, tightening a screw
to bring the silver contacts of the massive transmission-key in better
alignment, despatched his string at the highest speed of which he was
capable. As long as his listeners knew he was Peter Moore, he might as
well give them, he decided, a sample of the celebrated Peter Moore
sending.

For five minutes the little wireless cabin roared with the
undiminishing _rat-tat-tat_ of his spark explosions, and Manila, a navy
man of the old school, rattled back a series of proud O.K.'s.

Proud? Because Peter Moore, of the old _Vandalia_, of the _Sierra_,
and a dozen other ships, was at the key. And an operator who said
"O.K." at the termination of one of Peter's inspired lightning
transmissions had every right to be proud, as any wireless operator who
has ever copied thirty-three words a minute will bear me witness.

CHAPTER IX

When Peter emerged from the wireless room, having completed his
business for the morning, he found Romola Borria with elbows on the
rail gazing thoughtfully at a small Chinese girl who sat cross-legged
on the hatch cover immersed in her sewing.

And Peter marveled at the freshness of Romola Borria's appearance, at
the clarity of her sparkling brown eyes, the sweet pinkness of her
complexion, and the ease and radiance of her tender smile.

"You look troubled," she said, as her smile was replaced by a look of
tender concern. "What is it?" She lowered her voice to a confidential
undertone. "Last night's affair, _desu-ka_?"

Peter shook his head with a grave smile.

"I am discovered, Miss Borria. That is to say, I have just given
myself away to the Manila navy station, not to speak of the commander
of a gunboat, not far from us, off the coast of Mindanao. It
seems"--he made a wry face--"Peter Moore is not popular with the
authorities for deserting a certain ship in Shanghai."

"The _Vandalia_!" said the girl, and suddenly bit her lip, as though
she would have liked to retract the statement.

Peter sank down on his elbows beside her, until his face was very close
to hers, and his e