It is a matter of record that the call never reached Health Central. Exactly where it got lost on the way isn't known, but a century ago such losses were by no means unusual.
Lieutenant Blair had pinpointed the spot where the Morris had landed within a hundred miles. The Caduceus hovered over the area and then settled slowly towards a fairly large offshore island, some forty miles from the mainland.
"There's a level area there," the captain said. "It would be the logical place for them to come down. If they didn't, we'll use the air ambulances to look the place over."
It had taken them twenty days to reach Cardigan's Green since they had heard the distress call.
Yon the Fisher saw the ship in the air. It was only a dot, fifty miles away, but it seemed to be dropping too slowly and too regularly to be anything natural. He was standing on the deck of one of his fishing vessels, looking toward the east, when the ship gleamed suddenly in the rays of the setting sun. Yon watched it for a moment, then he grabbed a small brass telescope. It was a ship—no doubt about it!
Were they coming to rescue the other ship? Whatever it was, they were up to no good, and Yon didn't like to see the vision of his future power go glimmering. He didn't know exactly what he could do, but he knew he'd have to do something.
He turned and bellowed to his first officer: "Prepare to cast off! We're heading for Stone Island!"
Precisely what happened in the next ten days isn't too clear. The crew of the Caduceus was in no condition to record it, and their memories were evidently not too good.
This much has been established: Yon the Fisher visited the ship and offered his help. It took the doctors a little time—an hour or so—to decipher his strange dialect, but they finally found that the help offered was worthless. Yon professed no knowledge of the wrecked Morris. He was dismissed, and he returned to the mainland. Within the next week, every man jack aboard the Caduceus was down with the Plague.