Every time the wireless chattered the watch on deck started to keen attention. But hour after hour passed and no word either of the German raider or the big submarine was caught by Sparks or his assistants. Yet there was a certain expectation of possible action all of the time that kept up the spirits of the men and boys of the destroyer. At any moment an S O S might come, or an order from the far distant naval base for immediate and exciting work. The _Colodia_ and her crew were supposed to be ready for anything--and she was and they were! The daylight hours were so fully occupied with routine detail that the boys made little complaint; but during the mid-watch and the first half of the morning watch when the time drags so slowly, the crew sometimes suffered from that nervous feeling which suggests to the acute mind that “something is about to happen.” On this particular night--it was mid-watch--things were going very easily indeed on the _Colodia_. It was a beautiful tropical night, with a sky of purple velvet in which sparkled more diamond-stars than Whistler Morgan or George Belding seemed ever to have seen before. They were lying on the deck, these two, and gazing lazily skyward, it not being their trick on lookout. The _Colodia_ was running as usual with few lights showing; but not because it was supposed that there was any other craft, either friendly or of the enemy, within miles and miles of her course. They lay within full hearing of the radio room. Suddenly the wireless began to chatter. “Hold on!” exclaimed Whistler, seizing his friend’s sleeve. “That isn’t a call for you, George.” “I’ve got so I jump everytime I hear it,” admitted Belding, sinking back to the deck. The messenger soon darted for the commander’s cabin. It was no immediate order or signal for help, or he would have first hailed the bridge. But soon Mr. Lang’s orderly appeared with a message for the officer of the watch. There were a few whispered words at the break of the bridge. Then the officer conning the ship gave swift directions for her course to be changed and signaled the engine room as well. Almost immediately the pace of the destroyer was increased. “I wonder what’s in the wind?” murmured Whistler. “I’m going to see if I can find out,” said Belding, rising again. He went around to the door of the radio room. Sparks himself was on duty. He sat on the bench with the helix strap and “eartabs” adjusted. He had just taken another message, but it was nothing meant for the commander of the _Colodia_. “That’s the second time to-night, George,” he said, removing his head-harness. “I don’t know what to make of it.” “What’s the matter, sir?” asked the young fellow. “Why, I guess it’s static. Nothing more, I suppose. Yet it is a regular ‘ghost talk.’ I can almost make out words.” “Goodness! What do you mean?” asked the young fellow, mightily interested. “I never heard of ‘ghost talk’, though I know ‘static’ means atmospheric pressure.”