They both tapped the coherer, but nothing happened. All questions remained unanswered, and they seemed to be telegraphing into space. "Probably a breakdown," said the lieutenant naively. "Yes, sir, probably a breakdown," repeated Medlow; and then he was alone once more. * * * * * The officer on duty on the bridge of the _Connecticut_ had informed Captain Farlow, commander of the ship, of the latest messages from Magdalen Bay, and when he now appeared on the bridge in company with Admiral Perry, the officer held out the two bulletins. The admiral studied them thoughtfully and murmured: "_New York_, it's true she belongs to the yellow fleet, but what brings her to Magdalen Bay? Admiral Crane cannot possibly be so far to the southeast with his squadron, for the latest news from our outposts led us to believe that he intended to attack us from the west." "But he may be going to surprise Magdalen Bay, Admiral," said Captain Farlow. "Perhaps," replied the Admiral, rather sharply, "but will you tell me what for? There are only two torpedo-boats at Magdalen Bay, and to destroy a wireless station from which there are no messages to be sent would be a rather silly thing for an overzealous commander of the yellow fleet to do. And besides we have special orders from Washington to draw Magdalen Bay as little as possible into the maneuvers, so as to avoid all unpleasantness with Mexico and not to attract the attention of foreigners to the importance which the bay would assume in case of war." A lieutenant stepped up to Captain Farlow and reported, saluting: "All attempts to establish connection with Magdalen Bay have failed." "Well, let it go," grumbled Admiral Perry, "Crane seems to have deprived us of Magdalen Bay, but the commander of the _New York_ will reap a fine reprimand from Washington for this." With these words Admiral Perry left the bridge, steadying himself by holding on to the railing on both sides of the steps, as the sea was becoming rougher every minute. The increasing northeast wind tore through the rigging, whistled in the wires, howled through all the openings, screamed its bad temper down the companionways, pulled savagely at the gun-covers and caused the long copper-wires belonging to the wireless apparatus to snap like huge whips. The bluish-gray waves broke with a hollow sound against the sides of the six battleships of the _Connecticut_ class, which were running abreast in a northwesterly direction through the dreary watery wastes of the Pacific at the rate of ten knots an hour.