night long the cutter followed the pattern of the grid, and all night long the storm grew worse, and wind and sea made up more furiously than ever. The captain was very careful to lay his course so that mostly he was either bucking the heavy seas or running before them.
Dawn brought no cessation of the storm. With undiminished fury it lashed the sea and clutched at the staunch little cutter. Nor was there any sign of the lost Rayolite, until young Black, standing his watch in the radio shack, caught a very faint call for help. He magnified the sound to the maximum, but was able to get nothing more. At once Henry was summoned. He threw over his switch and flashed out an answering call, asking for the vessel’s name and position. His message carried true, for almost immediately came a hardly audible answer. The message was from the lost tanker. She did not know her position. She had sixteen men aboard, with no machinery, no ballast, and forty feet of freeboard. There was little food and almost no water left. She had a small radio set, operated by a small storage battery, that might carry fifty miles at most. She was wallowing fearfully and driving helpless before the storm.
Henry remained on watch while Black took the message to the captain. “Try to get a bearing with the radio compass,” ordered the captain.
