"Perhaps he doesn't know this coast. Can we signal him?" inquired the girl.
"He wouldn't take any notice of a fishing boat. The skipper of a ten-centime steam yacht thinks more of himself than the commander of an Atlantic liner. Of course he should make Lorient tonight—if he understands the lights."
The self-confident Peridot seldom qualified his words: now he had twice spoken with an if. Yvonne hauled herself forward, and joined her father and Tollemache.
"Peridot thinks that the vessel out there may get into difficulties," she said. "I suggested that we should signal her; but he says she would pay no heed."
"What sort of signal?"
"To turn back—Concarneau for choice."
"Let's try, anyhow. Lorry, you'll find a codebook in the chart locker, and flags in the one beneath. Look for 'Recommend change of course' or something of the sort, and the Concarneau code letters. Get the necessary flags, and we'll run 'em up."
Peridot, who missed nothing, understood Tollemache's quick descent into the cabin. His shout reached father and daughter clearly.
"They're signaling from the Brigneau station already. It'll do no harm if we give him a tip too."