The little Camel-back plane was a wonder. The soft whispering hum of the turbine engine belied its tremendous power. The slender, white metal wings cut the air at the rate of two and a half miles per minute. Presently we saw a smudge of smoke where the blue sea met the bluer sky ahead, and soon the little machine had dropped on the deck of a destroyer. The sister vessel was four or five miles to starboard. The two ships were plowing deliberately along, at about ten knots, keeping some twenty-five miles behind the tramp steamer they were shadowing. One of the officers took us up on the little bridge, and we learned that the little ships were keeping track of the tramp with their radio equipment. The radio man took us in and let us listen to the calls between the tramp and some point far ahead. Those were the strangest sounds I have ever heard. Thin, stuttering, stridulating squeaks and squeals! Even allowing for distortion in transmission, it was hard to imagine what might make them. "That's something talking," Bill said. "And human beings don't make noises like that." "It may be," the operator said, "that what we hear is just an ordinary conversation, 'scrambled' to keep us from understanding it, and 'unscrambled' by the receiver. Such devices have been in use for years." But there was no conviction in his voice. And certainly, those strange noises sounded to me like the communication of some alien beings. But what might they be? Later in the day, Bill and I took turns in going up with the Camel-back to keep tab on the movements of the tramp, since the radio calls had ceased. The day passed, and the white sun sank back of the glittering western waves. During the hot, moonless night, the ether was still, and we could do nothing but steam on in the same direction. I went up twice, but the tramp was showing no lights, and I failed to locate her. At midnight Bill came on deck, and I went below to a bunk. It was just after dawn that the alarm was sounded. I was awakened by the roar of the little ship's forward gun. It was firing steadily as I went on deck, and I heard a confusion of sounds--the siren was blowing, and there was a medley of shouts, orders, and curses, punctuated with the reports of small arms. I saw that the Camel-back was gone from the deck. Bill was up again. As I stepped on deck there was a great clanging roar from below. The propellers had been lifted from the water! The engines raced madly for a minute, and then were stopped. I ran to the rail to see what had happened to throw the organization of the crew into such confusion. And indeed it was an amazing sight that met my eyes!