nd the life of my companions and crew, inviting death to all
these, and this on a mere conjecture. Guess I'm a fool."

The gale was rising every moment. Even as he spoke the prow of the boat
reared in air, to come down with such an impact as made one believe she
had stepped on something solid.

Just when Curlie's patience with himself and all the rest of the world
was exhausted, Joe Marion opened the door. The wind, boosting him across
the threshold, slammed the door after him.

"Whew!" he sputtered. "Going to be rotten. Tell you what, I don't like
it. Dangerous, I'd say!"

"Nothing's dangerous," smiled Curlie, greatly pleased to see that
someone at least was more disturbed than himself. "Nothing's really
dangerous since the invention of the radiophone. Ocean, desert, Arctic
wilderness; it's all the same. Sick, lost, shipwrecked? All you've got
to do is keep your head clear and your radiophone dry and tuned up.
It'll find you a way out."

"Yes, but," hesitated Joe, "how the deuce you going to pack a radiophone
outfit, all those coils, batteries and boxes, when you're shipwrecked?
How you going to keep 'em dry with the rain pelting you from above and
the salt water beating at you from below? Lot of sense to that! Huh!" he
grunted contemptuously. "That for your radiophone!" He snapped his
finger. "And that for your old sloppy ocean! Give me a square yard of
good old terra firma and I'll get along without all your modern
inventions."

"It can be done, though," said Curlie thoughtfully.

"What can?"

"Radiophone kept dry after a wreck at sea."

"How?"

Curlie did not answer the question. Instead, he snapped the receiver
from his head and handed it to Joe.

"Take this and listen in." He rose stiffly. "This business is getting on
my nerves. I've got to get out for a breath of splendid fresh sea
breeze."

"Nerves?" said Joe incredulously. "You got nerves?"

"Sometimes. Just now I have."

On the deck Curlie experienced difficulty in walking. As he worked his
way forward he found that one moment his legs were far too long and his
foot came down with a suddenness that set his teeth chattering; the next
moment his legs had grown suddenly short. It was like stepping down
stairs in the dark and taking two steps at a time when you expected to
take but one.

"Never saw such a rumpus on the sea," he grumbled. "Going to be worse,"
he told himself as a chain of lightning, leaping across the sky,
illumined the bank of