"Bates and Jackson reached hospital. Bates compound fracture. If weather moderates will be with you next tide."
"All right," waved Brand.
The distant figure started again:
"L-o-v-e t-o E-n-i-d."
Enid indulged in an extraordinary arm flourish.
"A-n-d C-o-n-s-t-a-n-c-e."
"That spoils it," she screamed. "It ought to be only kind regards to you, Connie. I believe you are a serpent, a—"
"Do stop your chatter," shouted Brand, and he continued the message:
"Weather looks very bad. Little hope for tonight. Lancelot due at six. Will see personally that no chance is lost. Good-bye."
"Good-bye," was the response.