ships going in and out. But New York can relay to Galilee and then down to NF—that's Norfolk—and from there on to Hatteras. Then Hatteras could throw a message over to Charleston, and if we're depending on land stations alone, Charleston can relay to Savannah, and then Savannah can get in touch with the naval station at Saint Augustine."
"And then where?" asked the stranger, leaning back against the cabin wall.
"Then Key West could catch it up, and if there wasn't a gunboat or an Atlas fruit liner crawling somewhere around Cuba, why, the navy yard at Guantanamo could get it relayed over to Limon, and from Limon, in decent weather, you'd catch the navy yard operator at Colon. And if the night was clear, you'd run one chance in a hundred of waking up the Cocoanut Trail aerials behind Puerto Locombia."
There was a moment or two of silence.
"Could Puerto Locombia get anything outside of a passing ship? Kingston, for instance?"
"Kingston never had wireless—it's prohibited by the British Government."
"Then there's New Orleans, on a pinch."
"There's too much map between," explained the operator. He gathered up his box of scattered carborundum.
