the ship's officers who was passing.

"Anything gone wrong with the wireless?" he enquired.

"The operator's ill, sir," was the prompt reply. "We've only one on
board, as it happens, so we are rather in a mess."

Jocelyn strolled away aft, considering the situation. He found
Crawshay seated in an elaborate deck chair and immersed in a novel.

"I hear the wireless has gone wrong," he remarked, stopping in front
of him.

Crawshay glanced up blandly.

"What's that?" he demanded. "Wireless? Why, it's been going all the
morning."

"There has been no one there to take the messages, though. If anything
happens to us, we shall be in a nice pickle."

Crawshay shivered.

"I wish you people wouldn't suggest such things," he said, a little
testily. "I was just trying to get all thought of this most perilous
voyage out of my mind, with the help of a novel here. From which do
you seriously consider we have most to fear," he went on, "mines,
submarines, or predatory vessels of the type of the _Blucher_?"

"The latter, I should think," Jocelyn replied. "They say that