Again Bowen waited, and then the answer came: "What do you want me to
do?"

"Do something to save us."

"Why don't you do something to save yourself?"

"Sails blown away. Life-boat gone."

"Haven't you got a chart of Paris?"

"Chart of what?"

"Paris? With a few M'sieus on it? Good night."

Bowen let go the key, leaned back in his chair, rubbed his eyes, took
off his receiving gear and stared at the wall.

"What answer?" Nelson and his peering crew were at his shoulder.

"No answer."

"Dan we moost go up and dowse dose signal light, so no ship t'ink we ban
on shoal yet," and out onto the deck the impassive Nelson led his men.

"Good old squarehead--you're all right," muttered Bowen. "But as for
you," he gritted, "if I could only--just one grip of your throat is all
I'd ask for, and then, you dog!"