“C. Q.”; or, In the Wireless House
“You cut out, Morrissy. I ’m going to take the Dutchman,” he jerked with his key
“CQ de DKV—CQ de DKV,” persisted the Norddeutscher Lloyd three hundred miles eastward.
“DKV de MPA—HS,” replied Micky. (“To the Hohclohe from the Pavonia:—How are my signals?”)
“MPA de DKV,” answered the operator on the Hohenlohe. “Good evening. Mister.” (The German boats always say “Mister”), “Your signals are strong. MSG” (“Commercial message.") “Time now 11.55 Greenwich. Four messages.”)
But Morrissy was still vainly trying to break in. Micky threw him a formal “service message”—a deadly insult to a friend, under the circumstances.
“DKB de MPA—SG. Stand by. If you do not stop jamming I will report you.”
Then he turned again to the German.
“Time O. K. Thanks. GA” (“Go ahead.”)
“MSG. Number one,” returned the other operator, Morrissy having been reduced to silence. ”Ten words. Hohenlohe. Radio57
