Russ and
Rose gazed in, wide-eyed.
At length the crackling stopped and the spark went out with a sputter.
The man stopped writing and wheeled about in his seat. He saw them
looking in at the doorway.
"Hullo!" he exclaimed. "If here aren't two of the little Bunkers. Do you
want to send a message by wireless?"
"Thank you," said Rose promptly. "I think it would be nice to send word
to Aunt Jo that we are all right and that the ship is all right and that
we caught an eagle."
"It costs money to send messages," said the wiser Russ.
"Oh! Does it?" asked his sister.
"I am afraid it does," replied the operator, laughing. "You had better
ask Mr. Bunker about sending a message to your aunt, after all. Some
messages we do not charge for. But the rules demand that all private
messages must be paid for in advance."
"Well, then, I guess we'd better write a letter to Aunt Jo," said Rose,
who was practical, after all. "That won't cost anything but a two cent
stamp."
"Oh, my!" laughed Russ. "Going to mail it in the ocean?"
"We'll mail it when we get to Charleston," said Rose cheerfully. "I
guess Aunt Jo won't mind."
Just at this moment there seemed to be some excitement on the deck up
forward. Two officers who stood on what the children had learned was
called the quarter were talking excitedly to one of the lookout men.
They were pointing ahead, and one of the officers put a double-barreled
glass to his eyes and stared ahead.
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