"I hope that will be my case," Sam replied, without much assurance in his voice.
"Here, take this to the captain; hurry it along now," said Jack, handing him the dispatch. "I guess he'll be interested. Wait a minute," he added suddenly. "There's the _Tennyson_ of the Lamport & Holt line talking to the _Dorothea_ of the United Fruit, and the battleship _Iowa_ is cutting in. All talking weather."
It was true. From ship to ship, borne on soundless waves, the news was being eagerly discussed.
"Big storm on the way," announced the _Tennyson_.
"We should worry," came flippantly through the ether from the _Dorothea_.
"You little fellows better take in your sky-sails and furl your funnels; you'll be blown about like chicken feathers in a gale of wind," came majestically from Uncle Sam's big warship.
Then the air was filled with a clamor for more news from the Neptune Beach operator.
"You fellows give me a pain," he flashed out, depressing and releasing his key snappily. "I've sent out all I can. Don't you think I know my job?"
"Let us know at once when you get anything more," came commandingly from the battleship.
"Oh, you _Iowa_, boss of the job, aren't you?" remarked the flippant _Dorothea_.
"M-M-M!" (laughter) in the wireless man's code came from all the others, Jack included. The air was vibrant with silent chuckles.
"Say, you fellows, what is going on?" came a fresh voice. Oh, yes, every wireless operator has a "voice." No two men in the world send alike.
"Hello, who are you?" snapped out Neptune Beach.
"_British King_, of the King Line, Liverpool for Philadelphia. Let us in on this, will you? What you got?"
"Big storm. Affect all vessels within three hundred miles of Hatteras. This is Neptune Beach."
"Thanks, old chap. Won't bother us, don't you know," came back from the _British King_, whose operator was English. "Kind regards to you fellows. Hope you don't get too jolly well bunged up if it hits you."
"Thanks, Johnny Bull," from the _Dorothea_. "I reckon we can stand anything your old steam tea-kettle can."
The wireless chat ceased. Sam hastened forward to the sacred precincts of the captain's cabin, while Jack went below to his belated dinner. As he went he noticed that the sea was beginning to heave as the dusk settled down, and the ship was plunging heavily. The wind, too, was rising. The social hall was brilliantly lighted. From within came strains of music from the ship's orchestra. Through the ports, as he passed along to the saloon companionway, Jack could see men and women in evening clothes, and could catch snatches of gay conversation and laughter.