We broke our shaft two hundred and ten miles out from New York; we are
drifting helplessly in the fog. Send out a tug as soon as possible. We
are whistling one long, followed at once by one short, every sixty
seconds.
(Signed) THE CAPTAIN.
This was rolled up, wrapped in waterproof film, addressed to the
Steamship Company, and lashed to the under side of Arnaux's middle
tail-feather.
When thrown into the air, he circled round the ship, then round again
higher, then again higher in a wider circle, and he was lost to view;
and still higher till quite out of sight and feeling of the ship. Shut
out from the use of all his senses now but one, he gave himself up to
that. Strong in him it was, and untrammelled of that murderous despot
Fear. True as a needle to the Pole went Arnaux now, no hesitation, no
doubts; within one minute of leaving the coop he was speeding straight
as a ray of light for the loft where he was born, the only place on
earth where he could be made content.
That afternoon Billy was on duty when the whistle of fast wings was
heard; a blue Flyer flashed into the loft and made for the
water-trough. He was gulping down mouthful after mouthful, when Billy
gasped: "Why, Arnaux, it's you, you beauty." Then, with the quick habit
of the pigeon-man, he pulled out his watch and marked the time, 2:40
P.M. A glance showed the tie string on the tail. He shut the door and
dropped the catching-net quickly over Arnaux's head. A moment later he
had the roll in his hand; in two minutes he was speeding to the office
of the Company, for there was a fat tip in view. There he learned that
Arnaux had made the two hundred and ten miles in fog, over sea, in four
hours and forty minutes, and within one hour the needful help had set
out for the unfortunate steamer.
Two hundred and ten miles in fog over sea in four hours and forty
minutes! This was a noble record. It was duly inscribed in the rolls of
the Homing Club. Arnaux was held while the secretary, with rubber stamp
and indelible ink, printed on a snowy primary of his right wing the
record of the feat, with the date and reference number.
Starback, the second bird, never was heard of again. No doubt he
perished at sea.
Blue Corner-box came back on the tug.