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Joe had gone quite to sleep when Curlie suddenly dug him in the ribs and uttered the shrilly whispered warning: "Hist! There she blows!" A flashlight was snapped on. Curlie's fingers flew from instrument to instrument. The voice of the mysterious operator could be heard.
But when, on a level stretch of road, Curlie had "let her out," Joe had at once acquired an immense respect for the Humming Bird. "For," he said later, "she can hum and she can go like a streak of light, and that's about all any humming bird can do."
The thing she had struck, however, was not a steel net but a mountain of waters flanked by such a volume of wind as is seldom seen on the Atlantic. "It's the end of the Kittlewake," thought Curlie. "You take care of her," he shouted in Joe's ear, at the same time jerking his thumb at Gladys. The next second he disappeared into the storm.
The next day as they were moving in toward the dock, Vincent Ardmore approached Curlie. "My sister," there was a strange smile on his lips, "says you set out on this trip for the purpose of having me arrested?" "I did." "Well " the other boy choked up and could not continue.
"Then you're ready to put off at once." "At once!" The captain stared his amazement. "'Ere it is night. At once, 'e says!" "It's very necessary that we go at once," said Curlie firmly, "and I believe you have your orders." "To be hat your service in hevery particular." "All right then, we must be on our way in an hour." "Wot course?" The skipper rose to his feet.
For a second the man appeared to reflect. Then suddenly: "We are wasting time. My son has mysteriously disappeared. I have reason to fear foul play. Let me assure you that I know nothing about his whereabouts and, previous to this moment, that I have known nothing regarding these illegally sent messages." "But " began Curlie.
The forecastle is so so lonesome," she stammered. "If you need me, you'll find me there." Feeling her way along the rail, she disappeared into the darkness. At almost the same moment there came the bellowing sound of a voice that could be heard above the roar of the storm: "Curlie! Curlie! Come here! Something coming in. Can't make it out!" It was Joe Marion.
This was followed by three letters distinctly pronounced: "L.C.W." A second later came the strong voice in answer: "A.C.S." "That," said Curlie as he settled back in his chair, "in my estimation ends the night's entertainment. But the nerve of the fellow!" he exploded. "Sending that kind of rot on six hundred.
The receiver was clamped down over his ears, a half dozen switches were sent, snap, snap, snap. There followed a dead silence. Then in a shrill boyish voice, together with the baritone's renewal of his song, there came: "I want the world to know that I am a wireless operator, op-er-a-a-tor. Hoop-la! Tra-la!" Curlie smiled in spite of his vexation. He acted quickly and with precision.
When Curlie Carson left the wireless cabin of the Kittlewake, he grasped a rail which ran along the cabin, just in time to prevent himself from being washed overboard by a giant wave. As it was, the water lifted his feet from the deck and, having lifted him as the wind lifts a flag, it waved him up and down three times, at last to send him crashing, knees down, on the deck.
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