the scene on the pierhead, and it occurred to him that the
eyes behind the gray veil, before their owner was whisked up to the
deck and from his sight, had fastened upon him for a long breath.

"Four bells, all well!" bawled the lookout as four clanging strokes
rang out from abaft the wheel-house.

And Blanchard had proved that stateroom forty-four was unoccupied.
Peter decided to borrow a master key in the morning, from the chief
engineer, perhaps, and investigate stateroom forty-four. And with the
feeling that he was on the verge of discovering something which did not
exist, he prepared to turn in.

He was not undressed when the lock grated, the door lurched open, and
the pale visage of Dale teetered at his shoulder. An attempt at
grinning ended in a hissing sob of in-taken breath. The limp frame
flung itself in the bunk beside Peter, and Dale's white, perspiring
face was buried in palsied hands.

"Feel the motion?" Peter pulled down one of the hands, gently
uncovering the expressionless eye.

"I wish I was dead!"

"Want me to finish your trick?"

Dale's face disappeared in the pillow. A moment he was stark. His
head partly revolved, profiling a yellow, pointed nose against the
white of the linen.

"Static's much worse, Mr. Moore. Frisco's sent me the same message
three times now. It's for Honolulu. He says he won't repeat it
again." The pale lips trembled in misery. "And there seems to be a
funny sort of static in the receivers. The dynamos in the engine-room
may cause it."

"That's strange," Peter reflected as he slipped on his blue coat.
"There's never been any induction on board as far back as I can
remember. Does it hum--or what?"

"No, it grates, like static. Sounds like static, and yet it doesn't.
Kind of a hoarse rumble, like a broken-down spark-coil."

Two even rows of white teeth drew in the trembling lip and clung to it.
"That awful staticky sound---- And the _Rover's_ been calling us." He
groaned miserably. "I couldn't answer either of them. I was lying on
the carpet!"

"Get some sleep," advised Peter. "When you feel better come up and
relieve me. If I were you I wouldn't smoke cigarettes when you think
it's rough."

"I won't smoke another cigarette as long as I live!"

Peter slipped into his uniform, draped an oil-skin coat about his
slender shoulders, and made his way up to the wireless house. The
receivers were lying on the floor.

The _Vandalia_ was entering a