Judge — January 21, 1928 — page 16: what you’re looking at

Machine-transcribed from the original scan — historical spelling and the odd misread are preserved.

JUDGE In Peril on the Sea CRASH! It ne without: warni In the Palm Room of the great luxurious ocean greyhound, hun- dreds of efree were dancing the hours away One minute they were fox- trotting gaily to the strains of the ship's orchestra—the next, lords and ladies were hurled pell- mell to the floor as a gre cussion shook the vesse green wall of water through the port-holes. Captain Postlethwaite was the first to recover his wits. God!" he cried. We're passengers t con- and a poured iood “We're sinking! going to the bottom!” hen, thinking to avert a panic mong the passengers, he hastily added: “Keep cool, everybody ! There’s no danger! Ha, ha, ha!” It was quick thinking, but he had saved the day. In the radio room Williamson, the operator, was sitting in three feet of water, his nerveless fingers plucking at the controls. “You've got to stick to your post, Williamson!” the Captain cried as he dashed in. “It’s our CRAMER Younc— - Is the radio work- ing Williamson removed his — re- “There's a lot of static,” he grunted, “but I think I can yet WJZ in a minute.” He twisted the dials. “Here, take the ear-phones.” The great ocean whippet lurched deeper into the wave. vtain Postlethwaite donned the phones and listened intently for a moment. Presently he heard the far-off notes of a tenor voice singing, “When You Come to the End of a Perfect Day.” “Havana!” exclaimed the Cap- tain. “Let's try it through the horn,” suggested Williamson, switching the plugs; and soon the music was swelling clear as a bell from the great loudspeaker. “It’s clear as a bell,” said Wil- liamson proudly. “Clearer,” admitted the Cap- tain. Under them they felt the great ocean spaniel slowly settling in the deep. It was only a question of time now. Another fifteen minutes, and the Happiness Boys would be on the air. ceivers. Williamson began to pound the . furiously, desperately, like a man gone mad. $-O-S, S-O-S, S-O-B: his finger slipped. The Magnavox croaked incoherently for moment, and then a voice came through, Your $-O-S coming in fine,” it said. Williamson smiled at the Cap- tain. “Just think,” he said. “All over the world they are listening to our little boat go down, What a blessing the radio must be to y folk in out-of-the-way A steward dashed in. “Every- body's taking to the boats!" he shouted. “Come on! Hurry up!” “Ssssh,” murmured the Cap- tain, frowning at him. “It's National Spark Plug Hour; we don’t want to miss this.” And no doubt the brave Cap- tain and his loyal operator would have gone to their last sleep in vy Jones’ locker, had they not been picked up by WEAF a seant ten minutes before the great ocean Airdale plunged its nose into the wintry depths of mid-Atlantic. —Norman R. Jarrray Piumper—Yer wife phoned me to come get her diamond ring out of the drain-pipe. Hovsrnotper—Never mind—nev' mind—I'll get her a new diamond, comicbooks.com