His first act was, of course, to inspect his prison. It was not uncomfortable. Large, airy, and well furnished, it had evidently been selected because all its sides were of iron, three of them being formed by the sides of the vessel, and the fourth by one of her bulkheads. Numerous port-holes admitted air and light, but were too small for a man’s body to pass through them. A skylight overhead had been closed with heavy timbers. Altogether it was a strong place. Before he had had much more than time enough to familiarize himself with his surroundings, the key grated in the lock, and one of his captors entered with a tray, which he placed on a table built around the mizzenmast of the ship. “Here’s your dinner, sor,” he announced. Howard came over and sat down. As he did so, his eyes fell on some curious-looking mechanism which the man had pushed aside in making room for the tray. A question sprang to his lips, but he choked it back as the other bent suddenly forward. “I heard of what you said to Bill and Joe, sor,” he breathed. “Is it true that you could get away from here if you had the chance, sor?” “True? Of course it’s true. Give me a boat, two or three men, and a compass, and I’d start away at an hour’s notice. I wonder that you men don’t see that.” “And will you take me and Kathleen with you when you go, sor? Kathleen’s my wife--Joyce they call her, sor, though its nather chick nor child we’re after having, sor.” “I’ll take anybody. But I’ve got to be free in order to prepare----” “Whist! That’ll be all right, sor. Kape a stiff upper lip and everything will come right. The young lady and you have friends here, sor. I don’t dare to stop now, but it’s back again I’ll be later on.” Howard made no effort to detain the man. He was in a fever of impatience to examine the instruments on the table, and the moment he heard the key turn in the lock, he pushed aside his dinner and began to finger them. “It isn’t possible,” he muttered. “It isn’t possible! Forbes would know better. But, by George, he doesn’t. It’s true! It’s true! _He’s locked me up with a wireless outfit._ If it’s only in working order.” He pressed the key and a rumble and a crash gave answer. “It is! It is!” he exulted. “By Heaven! It is!” “Now to raise somebody before Forbes finds me out,” he continued. “If the wireless only sent as silently as it received, it would be all right. But--well! maybe no one will notice. It’s pretty noisy here! Anyhow, there’s nothing to do but try.” He placed his finger on the key. “Let’s see!” he soliloquized. “The naval station at Guantanamo is nearest, but I don’t know its call. I’ll have to try C Q D--the emergency signal.” Again and again he pressed the key, and again and again the apparatus roared, sending the cry for help broadcast over the sea. No interruption came. The village was some distance away, and the noise passed unheard or unheeded. “C Q D! C Q D!” he called.