lever, caught up his key, and sent the answer ing call rattling and exploding across his spark-gap, loud above the purr of the wakened dynamo.
Then he turned again to his phones and listened. They had not tuned up to him; they had not picked him up. For still again came the call "Pt-Ba," "Pt-Ba." It was out of the hours for sending. The engine-room had diminished his power, leaving him without voltage enough to make a "splash" that would reach the war-ship.
But his hand went out to his form-pad and he bent over it, busy with his transcription, as the noise pulsing and creeping in through his receivers translated itself into intelligibility.
This is cruiser Princeton lying off harbor of Torreblanca. Send word of Guariqui situation. Mobile despatch two days ago reports protection wanted for American interests. Please instruct our consul send immediate advice.
Lieutenant Verdu.
Then came a minute or two of silence, and then the call again, followed by the repeated message:
Pt-Ba: Are you asleep? Why does Princeton get no answer?
Lieutenant Verdu.
