Fortunately, there was no ray of light visible about the _Vagrant_. The incandescents had been switched off in every part of her, with the exception of the engine room. In this compartment Tom, by some inspiration, had closed the deadlights, and therefore not a gleam of light leaked out to betray the whereabouts of the craft. “Do you think the _Tarantula_ will cross the bar to-night?” asked Jack presently. “I don’t imagine so,” was the rejoinder. “They wouldn’t be idiots enough to take such a chance as that on this tide. No, if you ask me, we’ve got the night ahead of us till the first streak of daylight.” “Good enough,” said Jack, with much inward satisfaction; “and now, I’ve been thinking, it wouldn’t be a bad idea for me to keep watch by the wireless. It’s likely enough that Herrera will try to send a message to his plantation up the river, provided he’s managed to get his apparatus repaired.” “I’ve been thinking that, too,” said Tom. “I’ll go below and start up the generator.” “You might as well,” said Jack, “although I don’t think that we’ll send out any messages to-night. Our job is to catch what we can from the air.” While Tom hastened to the engine-room to start up the dynamo. Jack made his way to the cabin, accompanied by Ned Bangs. Captain Andrews and Jupe remained on watch on deck. Seating himself at the wireless table. Jack adjusted the head band, placed the receivers at his ears, and then threw the switch for receiving. Ned, in the meantime, had run up the wireless mast with its slender antennæ, or aerials. This done, Ned rejoined his chum, seating himself beside him. After an interval he spoke. “Anything yet?” “No; silent as the grave. Suppose you go on deck and see what Captain Andrews and Jupe have observed.” Ned was back from his errand in a short space of time. His face bore a well-pleased grin, as Jack could see in the light of the solitary incandescent which illumined the cabin, the shades having, of course, been drawn across the portholes before it was switched on. “Well?” questioned Jack. “Well,” echoed Ned, “everything is going famously. The light stopped moving outside the bar, and presently Captain Andrews heard the rattle of her anchor chains as she let go her mud-hooks. Everything has been quiet since.” “Too quiet. I wish——” Jack broke off suddenly, holding up a hand to Ned to command silence. Out of space the electric waves were beginning to break against the aerials above. The _Tarantula_ was talking to some one on shore in a rapid stream of dots and dashes. Jack’s hand flew across the recording pad. As before, the paper was soon covered with figures—the code which Tom had exploded. After half an hour, during which his hand had frequently sought the tuning apparatus. Jack’s labors ceased; but his face bore a radiant expression. “The message had a lot in it about us, and my father and the rest,” he said. “They did not codify our names, but spelled them right out. That’s how I know. They——”