of the state of physical exhaustion to which I had reduced myself. While I waited, I fell asleep. My head must have dropped forward on the signal-table, at which I sat, and with the head-piece still attached, sleep suddenly overcame me.
On waking, I seemed to come suddenly to my full senses, and it immediately struck me with a shock of surprise that it was no longer night!
It did not take me a moment to realize the fearful neglect of duty of which I had been guilty, recalling as I did the fact that it could not have been much more than an hour after sunset when I fell asleep. My first act was to look at the chronometer. It marked four o'clock. This was absolutely bewildering, for at four o'clock it would not be already light. Hastily removing the head-piece, I walked out of the station-house. The sun was approaching the west! There could only be one explanation—I had slept over twenty hours.
Remembering that as yet no account of the tragedy of yesterday had been despatched, and the urgent need of bringing the facts to the knowledge of the Admiralty, so that relief might be sent, I hastened back to the instrument. Here another surprise awaited me, to make you understand which, a little explanation is necessary. It is part of our instructions that, when telephoning, every word as spoken must be written down in shorthand, and every word spoken at the other end, must be taken down as received. This gives the Admiralty two records of everything that passes, one at each station, which should exactly correspond.
On opening the Record Book, imagine my surprise to find written down, in my own short-hand, the report of a long conversation with the Queensland Station, in which I had apparently given a full account of everything that had happened, and received replies and instructions, I tried to recollect something of this, but in vain. My memory was, as it still is, and no doubt always will be, a complete blank respecting it. The only explanation that seemed possible was that I had done this in my sleep, or in some state resembling sleep, brought on by the abnormal condition in which I had been the evening before.
A Change in Physical Condition
IT now occurred to me for the first time what a great change there was in me, as compared with the day previous. Incredible as this unremembered signalling appeared, and nothing but the evidence of my own notes staring me in the face would have convinced me of it, it seemed almost as strange that such a disturbed sleep as it evidently must have been, could have restored me in the way it had. My nervous condition had quite vanished, for I found myself as collected as ever before in my life. It might therefore be said I was more than restored, for I could scarcely recognize myself as the same individual that had spent the last few weeks, and especially the last days, in torturing worry and foreboding.
It seemed as though the very catastrophe I had apprehended had, by its occurrence, relieved my mind from the strain. If any one had told me some mouths ago, say when last we saw each other, that under such circumstances as these—of horror, isolation, responsibility—I should be able to take it so calmly, I should have been the last to believe it.
It next occurred to me that I was fearfully hungry, as well might be the case, and the need suddenly appeared so pressing that it had to be at once attended to. Never had food tasted so good, and yet, before I had proceeded far, a mouthful seemed to turn to ashes. The Record Book certainly contained an account of messages in my handwriting, but what evidence was there that it was other than an acted dream? Dropping my food, hunger forgotten, I went to the instrument, and in less than a minute was talking with Queensland. My relief was great as I found my account fully confirmed. They had received my report, and now renewed the instruction to keep as constantly on duty as I am physically capable of.
Since finishing my interrupted meal, I have written you this account, while keeping within sound of the call-signal. It is almost the hour at which I yesterday fell asleep at the instrument. That will not happen again, but I shall put on the headpiece. It is not necessary, but somehow I feel as though called to the instrument. So good-bye, dear May, for the present.
CHAPTER III
What the "Sagitta" Discovered
IT was the afternoon of the 11th of October. The cruiser Sagitta was taking a wireless telegragh staff, men whose leave had expired, from New Zealand, where their last duty had been, to the relief of the station at Wei-hai-wei. About six bells, a radio message was received in code from a station on the Eastern Extension Cable. "Take staff on board with all dispatch to relief of Station X. All communication ceased. Report on arrival."
When Captain Evered received this communication he was already well north of the Bismarck Archipelago. As he read it his face could not have become graver had he seen an approaching typhoon, on the horizon. In a figurative sense that is what he did see.
Promptly the nose of his thirty knotter was deflected to the north-east, and she was sent racing at her best pace on the new route, which lay through the countless islands of the Caroline and Marshall groups, to where the bottom of the Pacific falls into the Ammen Deep, near which his goal was situated.
He knew that something unusual must have happened, but the secrecy of the Service precluded the possibility of his asking questions. It was very possible, he thought, that Whitehall knew no more than he. "All communication ceased" was what lent color to the natural thought that had instantly occurred to him. Two young and healthy men are not likely to be totally incapacitated from duty at the same moment—from natural causes.
Thinking of the two young men concerned in the present case, his thoughts took another turn, and, judging by his expression, it did not seem a particularly pleasant one. Encountering the ship's doctor on deck soon after the change of course, he said:
"What do you think of this message, Anderson? Have you any theory?"
"Illness, probably," was the reply.
"Perhaps," said Captain Evered la a tone of doubt, "or worse."
