298
The Wireless Operator
she drove, fighting with every ounce of her power to win her way to the side of her crippled sister. Without, the night was black as pitch. From the sea came that ominous, moaning sound that betokens a storm. Aloft the cordage shrieked and wailed. As the ship rushed on, the wind rose steadily higher.
At eleven thirty-five came the message, “We are firing rockets now.”
At midnight the Wilmington sent her position. In all her hours of struggle she had won but pitifully few miles toward safety. When Henry had copied down this message, he laid aside the head-phones and surrendered his place to Jimmy. He had worked two hours overtime, but no one in the radio shack had given a thought to time. They were tense with anxiety about the Wilmington. Now Henry took his message to the captain. Mr. Sharp told him he had better get some sleep, but sleep was impossible. Every minute the wind was coming stronger, and the sea was getting up. The thought of those wretched sailors, waiting helplessly for the Iroquois, their vessel likely to sink at any moment, moved Henry powerfully. Never could he forget the sight of those poor fellows from the Iroquois that he had seen struggle so hard for their lives in the sea off Cape Cod. The men of the Wilmington might at any moment be