an open quarrel, so he passed the matter off by saying, “I suppose he has reasons we don’t know about.”
“Reasons,” sneered the operator. “Sure he has, and I know what they are. He don’t want nobody but himself to get ahead. He wants to make me stay a third-class man. He ain’t willing to let me use the instruments so I can learn more about it. Oh! His reasons are plain enough. He’s got it in for me.”
“How long have you been on the Iroquois? ” asked Henry.
“Six months.”
“Then I suppose you have taken your examinations for second-class operator.”
“Yes. And that old dumb-bell flunked me,” and again the lad swore viciously.
But Henry had little time to ponder over the grievances of the radio man, unreasonable though he believed them to be. Every minute was filled with interest. Particularly was he pleased when a message came out of the air for the Iroquois, ordering her to proceed to Boston to take aboard certain stores at the Boston Navy Yard. Henry had never dreamed of seeing Boston, and he was overjoyed at the prospect. It might give him an opportunity to see Bunker Hill and other historic spots he had read about.
The Iroquois, in her pursuit of the derelict,