"It would help us," he said "if we knew whether he could carry a wireless apparatus across the sands. I don't think it could be hidden on board."
"It might be buried outside in a watertight box. Shall we go dig?"
"No; we'd be seen from the shore, and a good glass would show what we were doing. In the dark we would have to use a lantern."
"That's so," Whitney agreed. "Well, as there's nothing doing here, let's get back."
They reached the dinghy before the tide flowed round her, and shortly afterward got on board the Rowan. The fog was thick and the wind blowing against them down the Firth, but Andrew decided to hoist no sail when they hove the anchor.
"It's early yet to find deep water, and I can steer her with an oar," he said. "We'll let the tide take her up."
He sounded now and then as the current carried her away, and Whitney wondered whether it would strand them on a thinly covered bank. Andrew had no guide except the depth and the hoarse murmur the stream made as it rippled across the shoals.
Suddenly Andrew began to scull vigorously.
"Not much water; I think we're too near the middle sand," he said.
The next minute the boat stopped with a jar and listed down on her side while the ripples splashed angrily against her planks. Whitney seized the boat-hook to push her off, but Andrew stopped him.