Over on St. Aubin's tiny island, Roger watched the water creep steadily up the rocks, up and up until it broke almost at the foundations of the castle. Cruel, cold, and gray it looked and hungry and chilly was the boy who watched. Once a gull flew so close that he could almost touch it as it vanished like a ghost into the fog.
At intervals Roger inspected his watch, counting the moments till the tide should cease to make. At last the water stopped climbing the rocks, remained stationary, fell an inch. The next wave broke still farther below.
But unless the fog should lift, ebb tide would only duplicate Roger's predicament of the morning. Toward four he saw that the mist was gradually growing lighter; saw water visible fifty feet from the island. Presently a breeze sprang into being, the most welcome wind Roger had ever known. Before it the fog thinned, grew filmy, dispersed in shreds of trailing vapor. Noirmont Point and St. Aubin's village came gradually into distinct view, and with them a man walking along the sand.
Water ten feet deep and many wide still barred Roger from the shore and he could not make himself heard above the slow heave of the rollers lazily breaking on the beach. Was there no way to attract the saunterer's attention?
Finding a long branch, relic of some storm-wrecked tree, Roger tied his handkerchief to it and waved vigorously. After a time, the man on the beach noticed the flag and stood looking toward it.
A bright idea struck Roger. At home he had belonged to a troop of boy scouts and knew the signals. He would experiment on this stranger.
Just by chance, Mr. Fisher at one time had been a scout-master and instantly realized that Roger, marooned on St. Aubin's island, was trying to send a message. Hastily improvising a flag, he responded.
Twenty minutes later, Mrs. Thayne, still nervously sewing, heard Mr. Fisher run up the steps and Estelle hurry to the door. A few brief seconds sufficed to give the explanation Roger had so painstakingly signaled.
"I didn't stop to rescue him, Mrs. Thayne," explained Mr. Fisher, "because his one thought was for you and Win, not to let you worry a moment longer."
"Can't you get a boat and row out for him?" asked Estelle, seeing that Mrs. Thayne was unable to speak. "Poor dear boy, he must be cold and famished."