“Telegraphy without the aid of wires. I didn’t suppose any of you here had ever heard of it, else Captain Forbes would certainly not have shut me in the operating-room of a steamer that had a full outfit in perfect working order. During the time I was confined there I was in constant communication with the naval station at Guantanamo. I told them of our plight, and I will venture to say that the papers of the country are ringing with the story of the Sargasso Sea colony and with our personal adventures. Toward the end--just before Joyce set me free--I got into communication with your father, Dorothy. He was wild with delight to know that you were alive and was about to start to rescue you. In fact, half a dozen vessels are probably now making an effort to break a way through the weed to aid us. If we can get back to the coast and wait, we are tolerably sure to be taken off sooner or later. Now, the question is whether we shall wait or not?” Joyce and his wife had listened in dazed silence. “Do you mane, sor,” demanded the former, “that you can talk through the air with those quare instruments in that little room?” “That’s it exactly, Joyce. I can, and I did. But let me get back to the point. I could give our friends only a very doubtful approximation of our latitude and longitude, so that it may take them a long time to find us, if they ever do. Not hearing further from us, they may conclude that the whole thing is a fake and give up the search. They will certainly have a long and tedious battle with the weed. Altogether, if they get anywhere near the right spot in less than a month it will be most surprising. Certainly they will not in less than two weeks. Now, what can we do during the interval? If we decide to wait for them, we must run down the coast and establish a camp somewhere--as far from the village as we can get. Perhaps I can find another wireless outfit and get into communication with Guantanamo again. Certainly, we can find food and shelter, and all we will have to do will be to wait--supposing that Forbes doesn’t find us, which he will move heaven and earth to do when he finds we have his gold and his boat. “That is one alternative open to us. The other, of course, is to dive under the weed and start for home at once. If we meet one of the searching steamers, all right; if we don’t, we can get to port under our own power. There is a risk about such an attempt, of course, but I don’t think it’s a very great one. Now, this is the situation: what shall we do?” Howard paused, and the others looked at each other doubtfully. Finally, Mr. Willoughby cleared his throat. “I confess,” he observed hesitatingly, “that I fear the depths of the sea. I should much prefer to remain on top of it and go home in a steamer. May we not run down this--er--river on the surface and talk it over as we go?”