"ArkCovenantPart5" - читать интересную книгу автора (MacClure Victor)

glowed, until at last Nantucket fell far astern, and in less than an hour's
flying we had passed to the south of Cape Cod. When the clock on the
control-board showed four-fifteen, I turned to Milliken.
"Let down the aerial," I said, "and see if we can pick up the Parnassic."
It was characteristic of the man that he knew the call and the wavelength
without having to ask, and it was without any comment but a quick nod that he
lowered the aerial and fixed the receiver to his ears. In a minute the cabin was
filled with the blatter of the radio.
"PNC! PNC! PNC!"
He waited a little and repeated the call, then suddenly switched to the open
receiver of the radiophone. A strange voice issued from the box and filled the
cabin.
"There's something the matter with the Parnassic's wireless," said the voice,
"gone phut, or something. Who's calling her, anyhow?"
"This is the seaplane Merlin," said Milliken. "Who are you?"
"British steamship, Maramba," the voice replied.
"Where are you?" Milliken looked at me.
"Two hundred kilometres or so due east of Cape Cod," I told him, and he repeated
it into the transmitter.
"Looking for the Parnassic?"
"That's the notion," said Milliken.
"She should be somewhere round 43deg. north, 60deg. west. I say, there's
something the matter-in this blinking ocean this morning--ghostses or
something--gives you the creeps. Well, cheerio, Merlin!" said the English voice.
"Is it cold up there?"
"Not a bit of it, thanks," said Milliken. "Cheerio, Maramba!"
"Cheerio and good luck!"
Milliken looked to me for instructions.
"Wait fifteen minutes, Milliken, and try her again," I told him. He pulled up
the aerial, and almost without thinking what I was doing I opened the throttle.
The hand of the speed-dial went steadily round to four-fifty, as the Merlin
lunged forward with a keener note.
"What's that glow that comes and goes on the horizon away to the left?" asked
Danny, when fifteen minutes had elapsed.
"It must be the light on Cape Sable," I said, with a look at the height
register, which showed we were three thousand odd metres above sea level. "About
a hundred and sixty kilometres away."
Milliken was letting down the aerial again, and soon the radio once more was
spluttering its "PNC! PNC! PNC!" But save for the steady song of the engine, no
sound greeted our ears. Milliken tried again, and again, without result. An
uneasy feeling took hold of me.
"Haul in the aerial, Milliken," I said. "I'm going to let her go full out. Clamp
the telephone receiver to your ears, Dan."
Milliken spun the drum round, and turned to help Dan with the cap-receivers,
which would cut out all noise except what could come through the phone, and then
he did the same for me. When we were all fixed, I opened the cut-out, and gave
the Merlin full throttle. The dial hand jerked round to five hundred kilometres
and stayed put, for that was the limit of its register--but I knew we were going
well over the five hundred.
It was now fifteen minutes to five, and a cold grey had crept into the horizon