The sailors of the fishing smack dropped anchor a good hundred yards offshore. Above them, on the flat of the plateau, loomed the huge, weatherstained bulk of the IHCS Caduceus.
"This is the prescribed distance," said Yon's First Officer, who was now in charge of the little vessel. "I wouldn't want to go in any farther, even with you aboard."
"I wouldn't want you to," Hale assured him honestly.
"You will row in by yourself?" asked the First Officer.
"Naturally," said Hale, although the thought hadn't crossed his mind. He climbed into a little rowboat, was lowered over the side, and propelled himself toward the blue sand of the beach.
Suddenly, a voice boomed out from a loudspeaker in the big hospital ship. "Don't beach that boat! Who is it?"
Hale let the boat drift a few yards from the shore and stood up in it. They must have a directional pickup on him, or they wouldn't be asking questions; he was too far away from the ship for a shout to carry clearly.
"Lieutenant Doctor Leland Hale, Interstellar Health Commission!" he called out. "What ship are you?"
Although they had challenged him in the dialect of Cardigan's Green, Hale answered in Standard Terran.
There was a choking sound from the loudspeaker. Then, for a full half minute there was only silence. Finally: "My God—we're saved!" Another short silence ensued before the voice said, "Lieutenant Hale, this is the IHC Ship Caduceus."