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Updated: June 4, 2025
Queer about that message! Thought I saw the Kittlewake on the sea a while ago, but then I thought it couldn't be thought I was getting delirious or something." "Going back up?" "I I'll In a moment or two I'll try." A few moments later he did try, but it was no use. His nerve was gone. His knees trembled so he could scarcely stand. His hands shook as with the palsy.
It's going to be an ugly storm and the Kittlewake is no trans-Atlantic liner. We may all get back to shore. We may not. If one of you do and I don't, I want you to tell this. It it will sort of justify my apparent rashness in dragging you off on this wild trip."
They arrived on board the Kittlewake just as the captain, a red-faced old British salt, and the engineer, a silent man who was fully as slim and wiry of build as Curlie himself, were finishing lunch. "Pardon me," said Curlie, "but did you get Mr. Ardmore's wire?" "You're this wireless man, Curlie Carson?" asked the captain. "Yes." "'Is message is 'ere; came this morning."
As Curlie's feet carried him forward on the deck of the Kittlewake, his eyes beheld the ghost which rose from the hatch taking on a familiar form. A white middy blouse, short white skirt and a white tarn, worn by a slender girl, moved forward to meet him. As the form came into the square of light cast by a cabin window, his lips framed her name: "Gladys Ardmore!"
"So you see," he turned to Vincent with a smile, "you went five hundred miles out to sea for the purpose of rediscovering America. Not much chance of success. Anyway that's what I thought, and that is why I dashed off on a wild race in the Kittlewake. And that's why we're here." Silence followed the ending of Curlie's narrative. There seemed to be nothing more to say.
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.
Suddenly he started and stared. There had come a loud bump against the cabin; then another and another. "It's the boats!" he shouted. "They've torn loose. Should have known they would. Should have thought of that. Here!" He handed the receiver to Joe and once more dashed out into the storm. The Kittlewake carried two lifeboats.
"Speed's the word now. Those two young dreamers have gotten away by plane. We've got to stand by in the Kittlewake or they'll never be seen again. I don't propose to allow the sea to rob me of my first important offender against the laws of the air." "By the way," said Joe, "where is Gladys Ardmore? I haven't seen her since we left New York." "I don't know and I'm glad I don't," said Curlie.
But though fragments of many messages had come to him, not one of any importance to the Kittlewake had reached his ears. If during that time any message from the Stormy Petrel had been sent out, it had been lost in the crash and snap of static which now kept up a constant din in his ears. Again doubt assailed him.
Then snapping on his receiver, he strained his ear to listen. "Ah! " his lips parted. He was getting something. Was it an answer? He could scarcely believe his ears. Yet it came distinctly: "Yacht Kittlewake, Curlie " Just at that moment the plane gave a sickening swerve. Caught off his balance, the boy was thrown clear off the platform. The receiver connection snapped.
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