The Argosy, Vol. XXV, No. 3 — page 107: what you’re looking at

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

THE VOYAGE OF THE PULO WAY. 491 to imagine her. Now, as I would have spurned such a detestable thought, I made haste to let her know how much she had: misjudged me, and several very conciliatory speeches I had to utter to assure her of my sincerity. I left her with a vague, incredulous smile on her face, and having passed through the saloon, was just about to mount the companionway, when I heard some one cry ‘‘ Hist!’’ Turning round, I saw the girl standing at her cabin door, a singular look of wonder and alarm on her face. As her eyes met mine she beckoned to me. Instantly I was by her side, when, without speaking: she turned and pointed at the cabin floor. Guessing in a moment what had happened, I stooped low over the carpet, when I distinctly heard a soft rat tat beneath. I looked at her and saw the triumph in her eyes. Then, whipping off the carpet, I laid my ear to the boards, and sure enough a great rapping and scraping was going on below. ‘Vou are right,’’ said I. ‘‘The rats have certainly got in between the two decks.’’ ‘Now you can understand my terror? ’’ ‘* Perfectly.’’ Just then, if anything, the noise grew louder, though it no longer resem- bled the scratching or gnawing of rats, but had resolved itself into a stuc- cession of sharp knocks. At first, I confess, I was fairly startled ; for the knocking appeared extremely systematic, and came at regular intervals. Certainly no mundane rat had ever achieved such a remarkable triumph, and for the moment I thought that either I or the girl was an unconscious medium, and that the rapping emanated from some disembodied spirit. But being ignorant of spiritualism, and consequently a disbeliever, I immediately contiected the rapping with the engines ; for in any other way such a regu- lar beating was certainly unaccountable. Then, hardly knowing why, I rapped loudly in answer, and after waiting ~ a moment or two up came the regular beat, beat, as before. When it stopped I rapped again, and to my surprise—I might almost say to my horror—up came a succession of precisely similar sounds. It was curious, but the knocking was reminiscent—painfully reminiscent. Blurred visions of days gone by came crowding upon me, and with a cry I bounded to my feet. What I had heard was.nothing more nor less than what any one can hear who steps into a telegraph office while a message is being received or despatched. Who has not heard the click, click, of the apparatus as it ticks off the letters? And who has not marveled at the wonderful inven- tion? ‘The uninitiated hears the clicking, and he may know that dots and dashes are imprinted upon the tape, which the operator reads as easily as print ; but he may not know that the skilled operator can read the message simply by the sound. Now, telegraphy was one of the many pursuits which I had followed keenly for a time, and though I was rather rusty in my subject, I knew ina moment it was somebody Te who I was. It wasa clear, distinct message, and came thus: Dot, dash, dash ; four iste three dashes; two dots; three dots; one Eomicbooks (S@)