The storm roared on. Boats pitched and tossed. The English packet had its rigging blown away. The tanker reported a damaged rudder and a destroyer went to her aid.
Day dawned at last and they began using flags for signals. With very little rest, buried in heavy sweaters and slicker, Sally stood like a ship’s figure-head on the tower and signaled all day long.
Once Nancy came to take her place. She lasted for an hour.
“It-it’s not that I can’t take-it.” Nancy was ready to cry when Sally relieved her. “It’s this terrible seasickness.”
“Yes, I know. Just forget it. The storm will be over before you know it.”
It wasn’t over when Sally went for a few hours of rest, but the clouds were gone, the moon was out, and because of possible submarine menace, they had gone back to blinker signals.
At ten she was at her new post blinking signals. Time and again, as the hours passed, waves sent their spray dashing over her. When at last she was relieved, she was half frozen and soaked to the skin.
To her surprise, when she reached her cabin, she found the door swinging.
“What now?” she whispered. Nancy, she knew, had been removed to the sick bay where Mrs. Duke could look after her.
As she bounced into the room, slamming the door after her, she surprised a tall figure bending over her secret radio.