Upon the board were written, in chalk, in very visible, decipherable characters, like the letters of print, the following words:
HUGH TREGARTHEN, OF TINTRENALE,
BLOWN OUT OF BAY NIGHT OCTOBER 21ST,
IS SAFE
ON BOARD THIS SHIP, 'LIGHT OF THE WORLD,'
BUNTING, MASTER, TO CAPE TOWN.
PLEASE REPORT.
'That will do,' said I coldly, and resumed my place at the rail.
Helga said, in a low voice:
'What is the object of that board?'
'They will read the writing aboard the steamer,' I answered, 'make a note of it, report it, and my mother will get to hear of it and know that I am alive.'
'But how will she get to hear of it?'
'Oh, the message is certain to find its way into the shipping papers, and there will be twenty people at Tintrenale to hear of it and repeat it to her.'
'It is a good idea, Hugh,' said she. 'It is a message to rest her heart. It may reach her, too, as quickly as you yourself could if we went on board that steamer. It was clever of you to think of it.'
'It was the Captain's suggestion!' I exclaimed.