e on the ship, perhaps.
He saw a man in the pilot's cockpit between wings and tail reach high
and fling something downward, something with a long streamer attached
to it. Bell had an instant's glimpse of the goggled face. Then he was
darting forward, watching the thing that fell.

It took only a second. Two at most. But the thing seemed to fall with
infinite deliberation, the streamer shivering out behind it. It fell
at a steep slant, the forward momentum of the plane's speed added to
its own drop. It swooped down, slanting toward the rail....

Bell groaned. It struck the rail itself, and bounced. A sailor flung
himself toward it. The streamer slipped from his fingers and slithered
over the side.

Bell was at the railing just in time to see it drop into the water. He
opened his mouth to shout, and saw it sink. The last of the streamer
followed the dropped object down into the green water when it was
directly below him.

His hands clenched. Bell stared sickly at the spot where it had
vanished. An instant later he had whirled and was thrusting wide the
wireless room door. The operator was returning to his key, grinning
crookedly. He looked up sidewise.

"Tell them it went overside," snapped Bell. "Tell them to try it
again. Ortiz is in hell! To try again! He's dying!"

* * * * *

The operator looked up fascinatedly, his fingers working his key.

"Is he--bad?" he asked with a shuddering interest.

"He's dying!" snarled Bell, in a rage because of his helplessness. He
had forgotten everything but the fact that a man below decks was
facing the most horrible fate that can overtake a man, and facing it
with a steadfast gameness that made Bell's heart go out to him.

"They don't die," said the operator. He shuddered. "They don't die of
it."

His key stopped. He listened. His key clicked again.

"They only had two packages," he said a moment later. "They don't dare
risk the other one. They say the fog ends twenty miles farther on.
They're going to land up there and taxi back on the surface of the
water. It shouldn't be more than half an hour."

He pushed himself back from the table with an air of finality.

"That's all. They've signed off."

Bell felt rage sweeping over him. The operator grinned crookedly.

"Better go down and tie him up," he said, and licked his lips with the
fascinated air of one thinking of a known and terrifying thing.
"Better tie him up tight. It'll be half