Henrietta Haney was a very lonely little girl after the yacht sailed
from Station Island. Not that she had nobody to play with, for she had.
There were other children besides Sally Stanley of her own age, or
thereabout, in the bungalow colony. And as she had been in Dogtown,
Henrietta soon became the leading spirit of her crowd.
She even taught them some of her games, and once more became "Spotted
Snake, the Witch," and scared some of the children almost as much as she
had scared the Dogtown youngsters with her supposed occult powers.
She was running and screaming and tearing her clothes most of the time
when she was away from Mrs. Norwood, but in the company of Jessie's
mother she truly tried to "be a little lady."
"Be it ever so painful, little Hen is going to learn to be worthy of you
and Jessie, Mary," laughed Mrs. Drew, who was like her daughter in being
able always to see the fun in things. "What do you really expect will
come of the child?"
"I think she will make quite a woman in time. And before that time
arrives," added Mrs. Norwood, "she has much to learn, as you say. In
some ways Henrietta has had an unhappy childhood--although she doesn't
know it. I hope she will have better times from now on."
"You are sure to make her have good times, Mary," said Mrs. Drew. "I
hope she will appreciate all that Jessie and you do for her."
"She is rather young for one to expect appreciation from her," Mrs.
Norwood said, smiling. "But the little thing is grateful."
Without Jessie and Amy, however, Henrietta confessed she was very
lonely. Sometimes she listened to the radio all alone, sitting quietly
and hearing even lectures and business talks out of the air that
ordinarily could not have interested the child. But she said it reminded
her of "Miss Jessie" just to sit with the ear-tabs on.
She had heard about the older girls going to the lighthouse station to
interview the wireless operator there, and although Henrietta knew that
the government reservation at that end of the island was no part of the
old Padriac Haney estate, she wandered down there alone on the second
day of the yacht's absence and climbed up into the tower.
The storm had blown itself out on shore, and the sun was going down in
golden glory. Out at sea, although the waves still rolled high and the
clouds were tumultuous in appearance, there was nothing to threaten a
continuation of the unsettled weather.
Henrietta had no idea how long it would be before the yacht reached
Boston, although she had heard a good deal of talk about it. She had
watched the _Marigold_ steam out of sight into the east, and it seemed
to the little girl that her friends were just there, beyond the horizon
line, where she had seen the last patch of the _Marigold's_ smoke
disappear.
The wireless operator had seen Henrietta before, cavorting about the
beach and leading the other children in their play, and he was prepared
for some of her oddities. But she surprised him by her very first
speech.
"You're the man that can send words out over the ocean, aren't you?"
"I can send signals," he admitted, but rather puzzled.
"Can folks like Miss Jessie and Miss Amy hear 'em?" demanded Henrietta.
"Only if they are on a boat that has a wireless outfit."
"They got it on that _Marigold_," announced Henrietta.
"Oh! The yacht that sailed yesterday! Yes, she carried antenna."
"And she carried Doctor Stanley and Miss Nell Stanley, too, besides the
boys, Mr. Darry and Mr. Burd," said Henrietta. "Then they can hear you?"
"If they know how to use the wireless they could catch a signal from
this station."
"Miss Jessie knows all about radio," said Henrietta. "She made it."
"Oh, she did?"
"Yes. She made it all up. She and Miss Amy built them one at Roselawn.
That was before Montmorency Shannon built his. Well, Miss Jessie is out
there on the _Marigold_."
"So I understand," said the much amused operator.
"I wish you would--please--send her word that I'd like to have her come
back to my island."
"Are you the little girl who owns this island? I've heard about you."
"Yes. But there ain't much fun on an island if your friends aren't on
it, too. And Miss Jessie is one of my very dearest friends."
"I understand," said the operator gravely, seeing the little girl's lip
trembling. "You would like to have me reach your friend, Miss Jessie----"
"Her name's Norwood, too," put in Henrietta, to make sure.
"Oh, indeed? She is the lawyer, Mr. Norwood's daughter. I have met her."
"Yes, sir. She came here once."
"And you wish to send her a message if it is possible?"
"Yes, sir. I want you should ask her to get to Boston as quick as she
can and come back again. We would all like to have her come," said the
little girl, gravely.
"I am going to be on duty myself this evening and I will try to get your
message through," said the operator kindly. "The _Marigold_, is it?" and
he drew the code book toward him in which the signal for every vessel
sailing from American ports, even pleasure craft, that carries wireless,
is listed.
He turned around to his instrument right then and began to rap out the
call for the yacht. He kept it up, off and on, between his other work,
all the evening. But no answer was returned.
The operator began to be somewhat puzzled by this fact. Knowing how much
interested in radio the girls were who had visited him, he could not
understand why they would not be listening in at some time or other on
the yacht.
He kept throwing into the ether the signal meant for the _Marigold's_
call until almost midnight, when he expected to be relieved by his
partner. Towards ten o'clock there was some bothersome signals in the
ether that annoyed him whenever he took a message or relayed one in the
course of the evening's business.
"Some amateur op. is interfering," was his expression. "But, I declare!
it does sound something like this station call. Can it be----?"
He lengthened his spark and sent thundering out on the air-waves his
usual reply: "I, I, OKW. I, I, OKW."
Then he held his hand and waited for any return. The same mysterious,
scraping sounds continued. A slow hand, he believed, was trying to spell
out some message in Morse. But it was being done in a very fumbling
manner.
Of course, half a dozen shore stations and perhaps half a hundred
vessels might have caught the clumsy message, as well. But the operator
at Station Island, interested by little Henrietta in the _Marigold_ and
her company, felt more than puzzlement over this strange communication
out of the air.
"Listen in here, Sammy," he said to his mate, when the latter came in.
"Is it just somebody's squeak-box making trouble to-night or am I
hearing a sure-enough S O S? I wonder if there is a storm at sea?"
"There is," said his mate, sitting down on the bench and taking up the
secondary head harness. "The evening papers are full of it. Northeast
gale, and blowing like kildee right now."
"Arlington gave no particulars at last announcement."
"Don't make any difference. The boats outside know it. Hullo! What's
this? 'S-t-a-t-i-o-n I-s-l-a-n-d.' What's the joke? Somebody calling us
without using the code letters?"
"Don't know 'em, maybe," said the chief operator. "Set down what you get
and see if it is like mine."
The other did so. They compared notes. That strange message set both
operators actively to work. One began swiftly to distribute over the
Eastern Atlantic the news that a craft needed help in such and such a
latitude and longitude. The other operator, without his hat, ran all the
way to the bungalows to give Mr. Norwood and Mr. Drew some very serious
news.