On went the _Lycoming_, creeping cautiously through the fog. For hours
Roy sat at his instrument and kept in touch with the steamers he had
already talked to. Again he went over his newspaper file and searched
out all the other ships recorded that by any possibility at all could
be near the _Lycoming_. One by one he flung out their call signals.
Some he heard at a far distance, some he could not reach at all. From
time to time he talked with the _City of Columbus_, but she was still
afar off. When he had thoroughly combed the air with his wireless
signals, Roy breathed more freely. He felt certain that no steamer was
in the _Lycoming’s_ path or in her immediate neighborhood. The only
thing that remained to fear was some silent sailing ship that might
suddenly come plunging out of the mist bank. Roy hoped the time would
soon come when every ship afloat would be compelled to carry wireless.
Suddenly the fog lifted as mysteriously as it had come. The rain
ceased. The wind fell somewhat, but still continued high. Roy looked
at his watch and was surprised to see that they had been in the
fog-bank for more than eight hours. It was night. Roy had not even been
conscious that he had missed his supper. Now he was suddenly so hungry
he felt as though he could eat nails. The dining-room was closed. Roy
punched the bell for the steward. When the latter appeared, Roy said,
“Sam, could you get a fellow a bite to eat? We’ve been so busy up here
that I clean forgot to go to supper.”
Now Roy remembered that he was wet. Every garment he had on was sopping
with moisture. Puddles of water had gathered under his chair. His
operating table was soaked. His chair held a little pool of water. He
had been hot with excitement and had not been conscious of his wet
clothes. Now he threw off his clammy garments, rubbed himself briskly,
and pulled on dry clothes. Just as he finished, Sam returned with a pot
of steaming coffee, an enormous quantity of sandwiches, some freshly
boiled eggs, and a big piece of pie.
“That sure looks good to me,” said Roy, as he reached for a sandwich.
“I am much obliged to you, Sam.”
“Don’t mention it, suh. We all is mighty grateful to you fo’ what you
done fo’ de ship.” And Sam disappeared through the doorway, grinning.
Roy’s heart leaped with joy. At last he had won recognition. Then
he wondered how Sam knew about the occurrence. Perhaps he had only
guessed what had happened. Yet Roy knew that could not be. Some one
must have reported the occurrence and that some one could be only the
captain or Mr. Young. Roy was certain it was not the captain. It did
not matter to Roy who told it. Whoever did had considered Roy’s service
as meritorious or he would not have mentioned it. Roy felt that there
was no doubt that recognition had come to him. He resolved to be very
careful not to mention the matter himself lest he seem boastful.
After all, Roy asked himself, had he done anything remarkable? He had
merely made use of his knowledge of scientific principles. The captain,
who had sailed the sea for a generation and faced countless storms and
fogs without ever losing a man or a ship, had done a million times
more. That thought was both sobering and wholesome. It helped Roy to
see matters in their proper light. If anybody spoke to him now about
the matter he was in no danger of getting a “swelled head.” Compared
to the captain he felt very insignificant indeed.
It was well that these sobering thoughts came to Roy so soon, for very
shortly afterward Mr. Young stalked into the wireless house. He had
seldom visited Roy there and Roy was happy to see him. He was happier
still when Mr. Young walked over to the operating table, studied the
instruments intently, and, turning to Roy, demanded, “How did you do
that, Mr. Mercer?”
“Do what?” asked Roy.
“Find out how close that ship was? To begin with, how did you know she
was near?”
“I was never in a big fog before,” said Roy, “but I saw at once that
the ship was in a dangerous situation. I wondered what I could do to
help. I knew that at least I could figure out what ships were in the
neighborhood.”
“How?” said the mate, much interested.
“You see,” explained Roy, “I have kept a file of the _Herald_ shipping
news ever since I joined the _Lycoming_. That gave me the names of the
ships of any size that have sailed from various ports in the last few
days. I made a list of them. Here it is.”
Roy handed the list to Mr. Young, who looked at it with interest.
“Then I tried to figure out which ones would be due in our
neighborhood. I didn’t know how fast any of them traveled, but you can
bet your boots that hereafter I’m going to learn the speed of every
ship we pass. I figured they would all go at about our rate--fifteen
knots. Then I worked out the distances from all the ports south of us,
including Cuban and West Indian ports, and reckoned what ships should
be near us. When I had found that out, I began calling them. Only one
of them seemed to be very close--the _Merrimack_.”
“How could you determine that?”
“Well, I knew we were off Hatteras, and most of the ships I talked with
knew where they were. But the _Merrimack_ was lost in the fog and her
wireless man didn’t know where he was.”
“Then how did you know she was near?”
“By the wireless signals. They were so loud and distinct that I knew
she was close at hand.”
“But how could you tell that she was five thousand feet away at one
time and a little later only two thousand feet? That’s what puzzles me.
I never heard of anything like it before.”
“It was this way,” explained Roy. “When I got into touch with her
wireless man, he asked if we could hear the _Merrimack’s_ whistle. He
said they could distinctly hear ours. At least he supposed it was
ours. I listened and heard the whistle, but one time it seemed near and
again far off. I couldn’t tell from what direction the sound came.”
“Correct,” said Mr. Young. “We heard it, too. Fog does the strangest
things to sound. That’s what makes it so dangerous for ships. The
officer in charge can usually hear another ship, but sometimes he can’t
for the life of him tell what direction the sound comes from.”
“Well,” continued Roy, “it occurred to me that if the _Merrimack’s_
whistle and her wireless instrument could signal at the same instant I
could tell how far away she was.”
“How?” asked the first mate, more interested than ever.
“Why, you know, Mr. Young, electricity is instantaneous, while it takes
sound a second to travel a thousand feet. If the two signals started
together, I could time the difference between their arrivals. It was
simple enough if only the _Merrimack_ could send the signals right.”
“Now what do you think of that?” cried the mate. “How did you manage
it?”
“The _Merrimack’s_ wireless man did that. I asked him if he could. He
said he would talk to the captain and they would set their watches
together and each signal at the same instant. All I had to do was
listen to the signals and catch the time between them.”
“Well, I’ll be darned!” ejaculated the first mate. “I never heard
anything like it. Is that what they teach you at the radio school?”
“I’ve never been to one,” said Roy. “All I know about wireless I picked
up myself.”
The first officer regarded Roy with astonishment. “Well, you’re a
pippin,” he said.
Roy laughed. “A little while ago,” he replied, “I thought I would
soon be a fish. When the _Merrimack_ signaled a second time and there
was only two seconds’ difference between her radio and her whistle, I
thought it was all up with us. I signaled her to reverse and raced out
to you on the bridge. You know the rest.”
“Mr. Mercer,” said the first mate, as he rose to go, “I’m going to
tell the captain every word of this. He has never thought very much of
wireless, because he always said, ‘What good is it? It won’t tell you
where you are, or where the other fellow is. And when you’re in a fog
those are the only things a skipper wants to know.’ But it seems that
in the right hands it will answer both questions.”
“Don’t be in a hurry,” said Roy, trying to change the subject. “Have a
bite to eat. Sam just brought me this stuff. The coffee’s piping hot.
You must be tired to death. You’ve been on the bridge more than twelve
hours straight.”
“Thanks,” said the mate. “A cup of hot coffee and a sandwich _would_
taste good, if it won’t be robbing you.”
They sat and talked for half an hour, munching sandwiches as they
conversed. When Mr. Young finally went to his own quarters, Roy felt
as though they had been friends for years. Their brief comradeship in
danger had made their friendship real. Roy felt this so keenly that as
his big visitor rose to go, he said, “I wish you would call me Roy when
we’re alone, and not Mr. Mercer. You know I’m not used to being called
Mister yet and I’d rather not have my friends use that handle when they
talk to me.”
“All right, Roy. Good-night and my hearty thanks for your help to-day.”