"Quick! Why are you waiting here? You fool! Run! Minutes mean life or death to her!" McTee hastened back to the wireless house in the after-part of the ship. To Sloan he gave the message, even exaggerating it somewhat. After it was sent, he said: "Look here, my boy, do you realize that it's dangerous to bring the captain messages like that last one you carried to him?" "Do I know it? I should say I do! Once the old boy jumped at me like a tiger because I carried in a bad report." "Could you make up a false message?" "It's against the law, sir." "It's not against the law to keep a man from going crazy." "Crazy?" "I mean what I say. Henshaw is balancing on the ragged edge of insanity. Mark my words! If the news comes of his granddaughter's death, he'll fall on the other side. Why can't you give him some hope in the meantime? Suppose you work up something this afternoon like this: 'Beatrice rallying rapidly. Doctor's much more hopeful.' What do you say?" "Crazy!" repeated the wireless operator, fascinated. "If the old man loses his reason, we're all in danger." "He's on the verge of it. I know something of this subject. I've studied it a lot. A common sign is when one fancy occupies a man's brain. Henshaw has two of them. One is what an old soothsayer told him: that he would die by fire at sea; the other is his love for this girl. Between the two, he's in bad shape. Remember that he's an old man." "You're right, sir; and I'll do it. It may not be legal, but we can't stop for law in a case like this." McTee nodded and went back to Henshaw, whom he found walking the cabin with a step surprisingly elastic and quick. "Go back and send another message," he called. "I made a mistake. I didn't send one that was strong enough. They may not understand. What I should have said was--" "I made it twice as strong as the way you put it," said McTee; and he repeated his phrasing of the message with some exaggeration. The lean hand of the captain wrung his. "You're a good lad, McTee--a fine fellow. Stand by me. You'd never guess how my brain is on fire; the old devil of a soothsayer was right. But that message you sent will bring those deadheaded doctors to life. Ah, McTee, if I were only there for a minute in spirit, I could restore her to life--yes, one minute!" "Of course you could. But in the meantime, for a change of thought, suppose you finish that order you were about to write out and send to Campbell." "What order?" "About Harrigan." "Who the devil is Harrigan?" McTee drew a deep breath and answered quietly: "The man you ordered to work in the hole. Here's the paper and your pen." He placed them in the hands of the captain, but the latter held them idly. "It's the frail ones who are carried off by the white plague. Am I right?" "No, you're wrong. The frail ones sometimes have a better chance than the husky people. Look at the number of athletes who are carried away by it!" "God bless you, McTee!"