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diff --git a/old/69612-0.txt b/old/69612-0.txt deleted file mode 100644 index 2119862..0000000 --- a/old/69612-0.txt +++ /dev/null @@ -1,6598 +0,0 @@ -The Project Gutenberg eBook of The Sea Scouts of the Kestrel, by -Percy F. Westerman - -This eBook is for the use of anyone anywhere in the United States and -most other parts of the world at no cost and with almost no restrictions -whatsoever. You may copy it, give it away or re-use it under the terms -of the Project Gutenberg License included with this eBook or online at -www.gutenberg.org. If you are not located in the United States, you -will have to check the laws of the country where you are located before -using this eBook. - -Title: The Sea Scouts of the Kestrel - The story of a cruise of adventure & pluck in a small yacht on - the English Channel - -Author: Percy F. Westerman - -Release Date: December 23, 2022 [eBook #69612] - -Language: English - -Produced by: Al Haines, Jen Haines & the online Distributed Proofreaders - Canada team at https://www.pgdpcanada.net - -*** START OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEA SCOUTS OF THE -KESTREL *** - - - - - - - - [Cover Illustration] - - - - -[Illustration: In the Toils of the Dreaded Race At the imminent risk of -being either jerked or washed overboard Brandon fought his way for’ard -hanging on desperately as he battled towards his goal. Then hanging on -with his left hand he succeeded in casting off the rope that held the -“Kestrel” to the “Merlin.”] - - - - - T H E S E A S C O U T S - OF - T H E _ K E S T R E L _ - - The Story of a Cruise of Adventure & Pluck in - - a Small Yacht on the English - - Channel - - _By_ - PERCY F. WESTERMAN - - Author of - - “Clipped Wings,” “Sea Scouts Abroad,” “The - - Sea Monarch,” “Under the White - - Ensign,” _&c. &c._ - - _With Coloured Illustrations_ - - London - - Seeley, Service & Co. Limited - - 196 Shaftesbury Avenue - - - - - Printed in Great Britain at - - _The Mayflower Press, Plymouth_. William Brendon & Son, Ltd. - - - - - CONTENTS - - CHAPTER I - PAGE - Knocked Out 17 - - CHAPTER II - The Mascot 28 - - CHAPTER III - An All-night Watch 36 - - CHAPTER IV - Investigations 44 - - CHAPTER V - Adrift 51 - - CHAPTER VI - In the Fog 57 - - CHAPTER VII - The Derelict 70 - - CHAPTER VIII - The Man they Rescued 79 - - CHAPTER IX - What Marner Revealed 87 - - CHAPTER X - Blueskin’s Plot 96 - - CHAPTER XI - How it Failed 101 - - CHAPTER XII - Out of Action 111 - - CHAPTER XIII - The Stowaway 117 - - CHAPTER XIV - The Peril of the Race 130 - - CHAPTER XV - “To be Returned in Due Course” 142 - - CHAPTER XVI - The “Kestrel” to the Rescue 150 - - CHAPTER XVII - Becalmed 159 - - CHAPTER XVIII - The Admiral 168 - - CHAPTER XIX - The Convict 177 - - CHAPTER XX - The Last Lap 191 - - CHAPTER XXI - The Eve of the Jamboree 204 - - CHAPTER XXII - The Race for the Cup 211 - - CHAPTER XXIII - A Dead Heat 223 - - CHAPTER XXIV - Snatched from the Deep 232 - - CHAPTER XXV - Home Again 245 - - - - - LIST OF ILLUSTRATIONS - - In the Toils of the Dreaded Race _Frontispiece_ - - PAGE - A Cowardly Deed and a Plucky Rescue 24 - - An Unwelcome Visitor 184 - - Returning Good for Evil 240 - - - - - THE - - SEA SCOUTS OF THE “KESTREL” - - - - - =The Sea Scouts of the= - - =“Kestrel”= - - - - - CHAPTER I - Knocked Out - - -“What’s happened to Mr. Grant, I wonder?” remarked Sea Scout Peter -Craddock, as he gazed anxiously through the gathering twilight. “He’s -late.” - -“So will we be, if we keep hanging-on to the slack,” rejoined Patrol -Leader Frank Brandon. “There are only eighteen more days to the Sea -Scouts’ Jamboree, and if we’re to be in it, there’s not a minute to -waste. Mr. Grant’s all right, never you fear.” - -Craddock straightened his aching back, wiped the perspiration from his -eyes, and resumed his voluntary though tedious task. He, too, realised -that time was precious if the “Otters” were to be represented at the -forthcoming and eagerly anticipated nautical festivities of the Sea -Scouts’ Jamboree. - -The “Otters” were a long way from their native Aberstour. Force of -circumstances had hit them pretty hard of late, but, like corks, they -bobbed up again under adversity as all scouts should do. - -For one thing, their staunch little yacht _Puffin_ was no more. She had -foundered at her moorings in a terrific autumn gale that had sprung up -with such suddenness that the official weather forecast had failed to -give any warning whatsoever. Then, Mr. Grant, their Scoutmaster, had a -serious illness that put him out of the running for three months. Patrol -Leader Frank Brandon was away on a five months’ involuntary voyage on a -tramp steamer, and had only just returned. - -In the absence of Scoutmaster and Patrol Leader, Peter Craddock did his -level best to keep the troop running, and by dint of sheer enthusiasm he -had succeeded. - -Mr. Grant had recovered his health when the Sea Scouts’ Jamboree was -announced. It was to be a gathering of every troop in the United -Kingdom, and was to be held in the spacious land-locked waters of -Chichester harbour. There were to be sailing and motor-boat races, -rowing and sculling matches, swimming and diving contests, and numerous -competitions in which the Sea Scouts were to display their prowess. For -those lads who were unable to come round in their own craft a splendid -camping site was provided; but, as Peter Craddock remarked, a lot of the -fun would be missed if the “Otters” had to hike it by road, and then be -compelled to see others display their seamanship, they themselves being -unable to compete in friendly rivalry. Without the _Puffin_, the outlook -seemed a bit disappointing. - -Then, quite unexpectedly, a chance presented itself. The Scoutmaster -heard of a suitable craft offered for sale at a very reasonable figure -owing to the present owner finding himself unable to carry out his -original intentions. - -She was an ex-naval “launch”—a boat propelled either by sail or -oars—of very substantial construction and only a few years old. She was -forty-two feet in length and diagonal built. That is to say, she had her -planks doubled, those forming the outer skin running diagonally on those -of the inner skin. This system resulted in great strength of hull, while -in addition the edges of the planking were “flush,” otherwise a smooth -surface. - -Her present owner had intended to convert the launch into a ketch yacht, -and had already given her a fairly deep iron keel and had commenced to -deck her in and build a cabin. Then he “stuck” owing to lack of funds; -and to make the best of his bargain offered the craft as she stood. - -“As she stood,” meant that she was lying afloat at Polkebo Creek, a -remote inlet of the spacious Cornish harbour of Falmouth, which was a -long way from Aberstour. - -The Sea Scouts held a council of ways and means. Fortunately they had -seven weeks’ holiday. The proposal of a trip to Falmouth to bring back -the boat seemed alluring. As for the completion of the conversion job, -the lads were all handy with carpenters’ tools: their Troop funds were -enough to justify the expenses. - -The deal was completed, and the “Otters” lost no time in proceeding to -Falmouth and taking over the new craft. - -Compared with the _Puffin_ she was a lump of a boat. With her newly -fitted iron keel she was “as stiff as a house.” Her original masts, -sails, anchor, chain and other gear were stored in a shed adjoining the -creek. Timber and other necessary material were readily procurable at -Falmouth. Most of these were brought by water in a serviceable 14-foot -dinghy that had been included in the bargain. - -Work progressed apace. The Sea Scouts stuck it gamely, cheerfully -working long hours in the assurance that theirs was a labour of love for -that fickle taskmistress the sea. The kindly fisherfolk of Polkebo took -great interest in “them young furriners,” giving the amateur shipwrights -many useful hints and, what was more, helpful assistance. - -There was one exception, however. That was Carlo Bone, generally known -as Blueskin, a hulking lout of about thirty and the despair of the -district. He was tall, heavily built and, with proper exercise and clean -living, ought to have been a formidable figure in the old Cornish -pastime of wrestling. Unfortunately he showed no inclination either to -work or to play decently. When sheer necessity compelled him to work, he -sometimes shipped on board a coaster. The local fisherfolk knew him only -too well, and there was never a berth for him in the pilchard fleet. -During his many spells of idleness “on the beach,” he spent all the time -the Law allows in lounging in public-houses. He was a cunning poacher, -but he had never been caught in the act. Rumour had it that he combined -the undesirable occupations of thief and smuggler. Already his evil life -had left its mark. His face was flabby, and his features were of a -purplish hue. Hence his name Blueskin. - -Blueskin had a grievance against the Sea Scouts. He had hoped to obtain -possession of the ex-Service launch by fair means or, preferably, by -foul; but the late owner had refused to part with the boat merely on -vague promises to pay, coming as they did from Carlo Bone. From morning -to night, except when the “Dog and Gun” was open, Blueskin would lounge -about on the quayside and bombard the lads with sarcastic and offensive -remarks, attempting in vain to make them abandon their task. - -On the afternoon on which this story opens, Mr. Grant and Sea Scout -Carline had rowed to the Prince of Wales’s pier at Falmouth to bring off -provisions and sundry stores. It was now nearly ten o’clock, and they -had not returned. The long Cornish twilight was setting in. In another -twenty minutes, night would have fallen. For a wonder, Blueskin’s now -familiar and unwelcome figure had not put in an appearance that evening. - -“Knock off now, lads!” ordered Brandon. “It’s been a long day, but we -simply had to finish that bulkhead. Start the stove, Wilson, my lad. I -don’t suppose Mr. Grant will be much longer. He’s got a fair tide up.” - -Wilson went below, leaving the Patrol Leader, Craddock, Talbot, and -Heavitree to put away the tools and to spread a tarpaulin over the as -yet unpainted cabin-top. - -At that moment the Sea Scouts noticed Carlo Bone slouching towards the -quay. At every few steps he stopped and tugged savagely at a length of -rope, the while cursing loudly. At the other end of the rope was a dog, -or rather a puppy of about two months. - -With the instinctiveness of its kind, the little animal realised that -something more unpleasant than its usual treatment at the hands of its -brutal owner was in store for it. Vainly it tried to break away, only to -be jerked remorselessly onwards. - -“The cad!” muttered Craddock. “He’s doing that just to make us lose our -tempers. He knows Mr. Grant isn’t here, and there isn’t a policeman to -be seen anywhere about.” - -Peter Craddock was perfectly right in his surmise. Blueskin was doing -his best to pick a quarrel at the expense of the little animal’s life. -Deliberately, as far as his unsteady gait permitted, he dragged the -puppy to the edge of the quay, where in full view of the Sea Scouts he -bent the free end of the rope round a heavy stone. - -For a wonder he said nothing; but the ugly leer on his flabby face was -enough. He was going to drown the dog before the eyes of the practically -helpless Sea Scouts. Nothing short of a display of concerted brute force -could stop him. He knew that. There is no law in the country to prevent -a man drowning his own dog, provided he does it with reasonable -celerity. - -The Sea Scouts scrambled on to the quay. - -“What are you going to do?” demanded Brandon. - -“Gwine ter du? Seems you’ve no eyes, like,” retorted Blueskin thickly. -“You’m not th’ ones tu stop I.” - -“Will you sell us the dog?” asked the Patrol Leader. - -“Noa, I won’t,” was the ungracious reply. “Thet pup ain’t no gude tu -noabody. Teared my boots tu pieces, ’e did; so in t’water ’e goes. Get -out o’ my way, I tell ye.” - -The other Sea Scouts looked helplessly at the Patrol Leader. Brandon -gave no sign. In the circumstances things looked hopeless. Blueskin had -the whip-hand; or at least he thought he had. - -He lifted both the puppy and the stone from the ground. . . . Grinned -tauntingly at the lads. . . . Prepared to hurl the terrified animal to -its doom. - -Stepping behind his chums, Peter Craddock felt for his keen-edged knife. -He had the ready knack of opening it with one hand. He did so, and as -unostentatiously released it from the swivel. - -“Let the brute throw the dog in,” he whispered in Brandon’s ear. “Don’t -attempt to stop him.” - -The Patrol Leader turned in amazement. One look at his chum’s determined -features told him that Peter Craddock had something up his sleeve. Peter -had: in a double sense. The keen blade, edge outwards, was nestling -against his wrist. - -There was a splash. The puppy, weighted by the heavy stone, struck the -water six feet below the quay. A second later and Peter Craddock took a -magnificent header close to the spot where the little animal had -disappeared. - -Craddock was a splendid diver. Three years in succession he had won a -prize in the plate-diving competition at the Aberstour Regatta, and now -he was putting his skill to a practical test. - - - - -[Illustration: A Cowardly Deed and a Plucky Rescue - The bully hurled the trembling puppy into the water below the quay, and - immediately Peter Craddock took a magnificent header, his open knife in - his hand ready to sever the rope which fastened the stone to the little - animal’s neck.] - -It was a difficult matter to see under the water in the failing -daylight, but before the stone touched bottom, Peter’s left hand caught -the fiercely struggling puppy. One quick movement of the keen knife and -the deed was done. Still retaining his hold of the released animal, -Craddock shot to the surface, and amidst the ringing cheers of his now -thoroughly excited chums struck out for the stone steps at the end of -the quay. - -But Blueskin had yet to be reckoned with. - -“That’s my pup,” he declared angrily, planting himself in front of the -dripping Sea Scout. “’And ’im ower tu me. In ’e goes intu the ditch -agen, I tells yu.” - -“Excuse me,” protested Peter coolly. “It was yours. When you threw the -dog in you threw away all rights to it. It’s ours now. . . . Take charge -of it, please, Brandon.” - -The Patrol Leader took the shivering pup. The animal, fearing further -punishment, struggled frantically to gain the shelter of its rescuer’s -protecting arms. - -Carlo Bone was flabbergasted. His slowly acting brain was trying to -think out the problem. No doubt that interfering “furriner” was right. -He was a fool not to stop him from diving to the rescue. There yet -remained the question of brute force. He would be more than a match for -the whole crowd of “they Sea Scoutses.” - -“Gimme that dawg!” he shouted, striding towards the Patrol Leader. - -Peter barred his way. Blueskin aimed a vicious blow at Craddock’s chest. -The Sea Scout, in successfully evading the massive fist, stepped -backwards. As he did so his rubber-soled shoes slithered on the stones, -for no footgear is proof against the slippery quays of the West Country -where fish have just been landed. He fell. The bully promptly dealt him -a kick with his heavy sea-boot. - -There is a limit to human endurance, even to that of a well-disciplined -patrol of Scouts. In an instant Fred Heavitree planted himself between -Blueskin and the prostrate Craddock. - -Heavitree was the latest recruit to the “Otters.” He was a tall, slim -youth of a somewhat retiring disposition, keen at his work and yet never -before displaying any signs of unusual strength and activity. His chums -were about to get one of life’s surprises; so was Blueskin. - -“Keep back, you fellows,” cautioned Heavitree in a low yet compelling -tone. - -The bully, thinking he had an easy task, let out a terrific left. Had it -reached its objective, Heavitree would have been lifted clean off his -feet. The Sea Scout was unable to spring back out of harm’s way, because -Craddock was still on the ground. Instead, without moving his feet, he -inclined his body from the waist. - -Blueskin’s fist met nothing more resisting than air. Before he could -recover his balance, the Sea Scout had him properly. A tremendous thud -as Heavitree’s left caught the bully fairly between the eyes was almost -simultaneously followed by a heavy right straight to the _solar plexus_. - -Heavitree stood his ground, guarding to meet a counter-attack. It was a -judicious but unnecessary precaution, for Carlo Bone, his arms whirling -like windmills, staggered backwards for three or four yards, and -collapsed in a heap upon the rough pavement. - - - - - CHAPTER II - The Mascot - - -For some moments the Sea Scouts remained dumbfounded at their chum’s -prowess. Heavitree, by far the least perturbed, stood silently regarding -the prostrate form of his late antagonist. - -“You’ve killed him, Fred,” exclaimed Wilson. - -“Not I,” replied Heavitree. “He’ll be all right in ten minutes or so, -’cept perhaps for a bad headache. Did he give you much of a hack, -Peter?” - -“He tried to,” said Craddock, as he examined his shin. The skin had been -slightly lacerated and was bleeding a little. The moisture draining from -the Sea Scout’s saturated shorts and mingling with the crimson fluid -made the abrasion look far worse than it actually was. “He tried to; but -his feet sort of side-slipped. My word, Fred! That was a knock-out blow. -Where did you learn that?” - -Before the specialist in the art of “knocking out” could reply, a number -of fisherfolk and villagers came hurrying to the quay. One of the number -had seen Blueskin floored, and had communicated the news to the -frequenters of the “Dog and Gun,” with the result that “closing time” -was anticipated for the first time in the annals of that ancient inn to -the extent of nearly three minutes. - -“Sakes, if ’tisn’t Blueskin!” exclaimed a bearded fisherman. “Laid out -prapper-like, tu. ’Ave ye been hittin’ he ower head with a hammer?” - -“No,” replied Brandon. “He went for one of us: kicked him. So Heavitree -knocked him down.” - -“What with?” asked the astonished Cornishman. - -“His fist. It was a fair blow,” declared the Patrol Leader. - -“Did he now? Us ’ud think ’twould take more’n a fist tu settle the -loikes of ’e. We’m right glad, we’m is; but harkee—Blueskin’s a twi’ble -dangerous man to fall foul wi’. He’ll get his own back, loike, e’en if -he’s tu wait ten year. Isn’t that so, friends?” - -The other villagers nodded their heads. - -“We’ll look out, then,” rejoined Brandon. “Well, there’s nothing more to -be done, I take it. Come on, Peter, and change your gear.” - -With the rescued puppy nestling in the Patrol Leader’s arms the Sea -Scouts returned on board, leaving the Polkebo folk to carry the still -unconscious form of their unpopular fellow-villager to the ramshackle -and sordid cottage which he called his home. - -The Sea Scouts crowded into their partly finished cabin. The lamp had -been lighted; a large iron kettle was on the stove. Compared with the -comfortable cabin of the little _Puffin_, the place looked barn-like and -cheerless. It had yet to be made into a really habitable cabin, but even -now it was rain-proof and afforded the lads a shelter even if it were a -case of “sleeping rough.” - -“Rummy looking little beast, what?” commented Brandon, pausing in the -act of drying the puppy’s coat to study the general appearance of the -rescued animal. Even for a puppy its hair was long, its ears drooping. -Neck, chest and forefeet were white, as was a blaze extending almost to -the tip of its jet-black nose. The rest of the fur was of a dark grey -hue. - -“It’s our mascot, anyway,” declared Wilson. “My word, Peter; you were -pretty smart in diving after it.” - -“Was I?” rejoined Craddock in a muffled tone as he struggled into a dry -jersey. “I hadn’t any idea how long I was under. It was just luck -grabbing the pup as I did.” - -“What shall we call it?” enquired Symington. - -“That’s for Peter to say,” replied Brandon. “He saved the pup. . . . -Hello! Here’s the dinghy alongside.” - -“Sorry I’m late, lads!” exclaimed Mr. Grant, as he stepped into the -cabin, blinking as he did so at the strong light compared to the -darkness without. “We’ve had rather an interesting yarn with Scoutmaster -Pendennis, haven’t we, Carline? His Sea Scouts are going to the -Jamboree, too; so we’ll—Hello! What’s that?” - -“Our mascot, sir,” replied Brandon, holding out the pup for inspection. - -“Where did you get it from?” asked Mr. Grant. - -“It was that chap Carlo Bone’s, sir,” was the somewhat vague reply. - -The Scoutmaster showed no great enthusiasm over the announcement. He did -not like the idea of the lads accepting any favours from a surly -good-for-nothing rascal of that type. - -“Did he give it you?” he asked. - -“No, sir,” replied the Patrol Leader. “He threw the pup into the creek, -and Peter fetched it out. Then——” - -“Suppose you tell the yarn from the beginning, Brandon,” said Mr. Grant -quietly. “This sounds rather interesting.” - -Frank Brandon did so. The Scoutmaster listened without making any -comment until the story was completed. - -“It served Blueskin right,” he remarked. “I’m sorry we’ve had a row, but -he evidently asked for it. We’ll have to be careful when he’s about. I -didn’t know, you were a budding pugilist, Heavitree. Where did you learn -to use your fists?” - -“At school, sir. We were taught boxing. I was supposed to be rather good -at it; only one day I hit a fellow rather hard. It was a sparring match. -I really didn’t mean to hurt him, but I did. After that I felt afraid of -myself and dropped boxing.” - -“We’ve won our mascot, haven’t we, sir?” enquired Brandon. - -Mr. Grant assented. - -“We were going to give it a name when you came back, sir,” said Peter. - -“Carry on, then,” prompted the Scoutmaster. “What do you suggest?” - -“Bruin, sir; it’s like a teddy bear.” - -“H’m!” exclaimed Mr. Grant dubiously. “It’s hardly the correct thing to -call a female dog by a masculine name. You’d better start on another -tack. Well, that’s a matter for you fellows to discuss. How have you -been getting on?” - -“We’ve finished the bulkhead to your cabin,” announced Peter. “The -cabin-top has had the first coat of paint ready for the canvas to be -stretched. Wilson and Talbot have been fitting the bunks in the main -cabin, so we won’t have to sleep on the floor in future.” - -“That’s good!” said Mr. Grant encouragingly. “To-morrow if it’s fine -we’ll polish off that cabin-top. We ought to have the masts stepped, and -the standing rigging set up by the end of the week. That reminds me: -Scoutmaster Pendennis is taking a patrol to the Jamboree in the -_Merlin_. We’ll be cruising in company unless the _Merlin_ is too smart -for us. I hope our craft will prove to be fairly fast—enough to keep up -with her. Talking about names: we haven’t given our boat a name yet.” - -“How would _Kestrel_ do, sir?” suggested Brandon. “A merlin is a sort of -hawk, and so is a kestrel.” - -“Good idea!” agreed Mr. Grant. “Now, you fellows: supper and bed. We’ve -another long day’s work in front of us to-morrow. I don’t fancy Mr. -Carlo Bone will favour us with his undesirable attendance to-night.” - -In ordinary circumstances the Sea Scouts slept like logs. Already they -were quite hardened to lying on bare boards. To-night for the first time -since their arrival at Polkebo Creek, they were sleeping either on bunks -extending the whole length and both sides of the main saloon or in -hammocks slung from the beams. Yet, in spite of the great improvement in -comfort, they showed no inclination for repose. They chattered, -discussing a suitable name for their mascot and going over the events of -that memorable evening until Mr. Grant’s voice, coming from the -adjoining cabin, bade them keep quiet. - -After that the silence was broken only by the whimpering of the puppy. -She, too, was doubtless going through the terrifying time when she was -struggling under water weighted down by a stone. - -It was not until Peter Craddock put his arm over the side of his bunk -and stroked the now soft, silky hair that the little animal quieted -down. Licking the hand of her rescuer, she gave a little sigh of -gratification and confidence and dropped into a sound slumber. - -Bodily tired though he was, Peter simply could not sleep. He lay -thinking and thinking—which is a jolly bad symptom in a healthy youth. -He was puzzling his brains to decide upon a suitable name for the -_Kestrel’s_ mascot. - -Presently he realised that fine rain was falling on the tarpaulin placed -over the uncompleted cabin-top. It was a strange sort of rain—falling -intermittently. It smelt strange, too. - -“Petrol!” thought the lad. - -He sniffed suspiciously. This surmise was confirmed. The interior of the -cabin was reeking with the fumes of that highly inflammable spirit. - -In a flash the Sea Scout’s mind was alert. - -There could be but one solution to the mystery. Blueskin, utterly -reckless in his mad desire to revenge himself, was spraying petrol on -the yacht’s deck. At any moment a lighted match thrown by the miscreant -on the quayside would make the _Kestrel_ a mass of flaming woodwork. - - - - - CHAPTER III - An All-Night Watch - - -Peter Craddock had to decide promptly upon his plan of action. Two -courses suggested themselves: either to arouse Mr. Grant and give the -alarm, or else to scare the miscreant away. - -He decided upon the latter plan. Too much valuable time would be wasted -in waking the Scoutmaster. More than likely the other Sea Scouts would -be roused; and then, if one of them struck a match, the highly explosive -mixture of air and petrol in the cabin would go up with terrific force. -No; his best plan would be to frighten away the cowardly rogue, who was -certainly counting upon the supposition that the crew of the _Kestrel_ -were sleeping soundly, in order to carry out his diabolical plan. - -Grasping an electric torch that he always kept within hand’s reach -during the night watches, Peter slipped out of his bunk, glided -noiselessly out of the cabin, and gained the cockpit. Then, directing -the torch towards the quay, he released a dazzling ray. - -He was too late to spot the miscreant. In spite of the Sea Scout’s -cautious movements, the man had heard the disturbing sounds. Afraid to -complete his dastardly work, the fellow had taken to his heels. Peter -could hear his boots clattering upon the stone paving. - -It was now almost dead low water. The _Kestrel_ was high and dry, -supported by legs and lying parallel to and at a distance of a couple of -yards from the quay, the edge of which rose quite eight feet above the -deck. Consequently the quay served as a ridge to prevent the rays of -Peter’s torch sweeping the whole extent of the open expanse between the -line of cottages and the creek. - -By the time Craddock had gained the cabin-top, whence he could command a -view of the adjoining ground, the fellow had disappeared. Although this -escape of the miscreant was a disappointment, Peter realised that his -hideous plans had been frustrated. - -“Who’s there?” enquired Mr. Grant’s voice from the cabin. Aroused by -Craddock’s movements—and it is remarkable how plainly the faintest -sound can be heard on deck when only three-quarters of an inch of -matchboarding intervenes—the Scoutmaster sat up, listening intently. -Evidently the fumes of the petrol had not as yet penetrated the bulkhead -separating his cabin from the one in which the seven Sea Scouts slept. - -Before replying Peter re-entered the saloon. As he did so the puppy gave -an aggressive growl. Brandon woke up. - -“Phew!” he ejaculated. “What a whiff!” - -“It is,” agreed Peter. “Turn out, old son, and rouse the others. Don’t -let any of them strike a light. The place is chock full of petrol -fumes.” - -“What’s that—petrol fumes?” demanded Mr. Grant from the partitioned-off -cabin. - -“Yes, sir,” replied Craddock. “Can you come on deck? I’ve a torch -handy.” - -By this time the other Sea Scouts with one exception were “beginning to -sit up and take notice.” During the process, Talbot, who was sleeping in -a hammock, bumped his head against a deck beam. His swaying -resting-place swayed still more, slinging him out and depositing him on -one of the bunks where Wilson was sleeping soundly. Mutual protests -arose only to be checked by the Patrol Leader, who bade the pair, “Stow -that row and get your things on.” - -Meanwhile Mr. Grant had hurriedly dressed. Making sure that every lad -realised the supreme importance of refraining from striking a match, he -told Brandon, Craddock, Heavitree, and Carline to follow him while the -others dispersed the dangerous fumes from the interior of the saloon. - -“Which way did the fellow go, Peter?” asked Mr. Grant. - -Craddock told him. - -“Away from his cottage, then,” continued the Scoutmaster. “Good! We’ll -picket the place. A scoundrel like that deserves all he gets; but it’s -just possible that he didn’t realise what might have happened. His idea -might have been to set the yacht on fire and give us a scare. He may not -know the properties of air and petrol as an explosive mixture. Although -he only squirted the petrol on the tarpaulin on the cabin-top, the -fumes, being heavier than the atmosphere, settled inside the boat.” - -Accompanied by the four Sea Scouts, Mr. Grant made his way to Carlo -Bone’s cottage, a ramshackle stone structure of two storeys situated -about a hundred yards from the furthermost row of houses that formed the -hamlet of Polkebo. At the back was a neglected garden of about a quarter -of an acre in extent and enclosed by a low wall of ashlar masonry. There -were two doors to the cottage, one opening directly upon the street, and -gained by a flight of eight stone steps; the other led into the garden -and was also reached by steps. The windows were small, heavily barred, -and so high from the ground that it was impossible for anyone to see in -without the aid of a ladder. - -“It wants an hour and a half to sunrise,” remarked Mr. Grant, after he -had consulted the luminous dial of his wristlet watch. “Possibly Mr. -Bone will return before then. I doubt whether he has had time to do so -already. In any case, we’ll investigate.” - -Posting Brandon and Heavitree at the front of the cottage, Mr. Grant -followed by Craddock and Carline, scaled the low wall and crept up to -the back door. The Scoutmaster flashed his torch upon the latch. A -spider had built a web across the door. The air was warm and saturated -with dew, and glistening particles of moisture hung from the undisturbed -web. In fact, webs abounded. Almost every tree and shrub was festooned -with them. - -Obviously Blueskin had not re-entered his cottage by that door. -Satisfied on that ground, Mr. Grant withdrew with his companions. The -garden was, after all, private property. Legally the would-be victims -were trespassing. In addition, they were laying themselves open to an -act of violence should Carlo Bone return and find them there. The -poacher, according to report, would not hesitate to use a gun or a knife -should he find himself cornered. - -Mr. Grant, however, had no wish to corner the fellow. For the present he -wanted to be in a position to prove that Blueskin was the perpetrator of -the outrage and a step in that direction was to be able to make certain -that the man was away from his cottage. If so, on his return he would be -almost sure to bring with him the reek of petrol, even if he had got rid -of the implements by which he had sprayed the fluid. - -“Now, you fellows,” he said in a low voice, addressing Craddock and -Carline, “I want you to keep a sharp look-out on the back of the -cottage. Take cover, and keep your eyes and ears on the alert.” - -“And if he shows up, sir, do we tackle him?” asked Peter. - -“Rather not; that’s a job for the police. I’ll look you up occasionally. -I’ll see what Brandon and Heavitree are doing.” - -Before rejoining the Sea Scouts posted in concealment in the front of -the building, Mr. Grant examined the front door. Here, as in the case of -the back entrance, the presence of an undisturbed spider’s web gave -conclusive proof that Blueskin had not entered the cottage by that -means. Since he could not do so through the barred windows, the -inference was that he was still away. - -For the rest of the hours of darkness, the Scoutmaster divided his time -between the _Kestrel_ and the two observation posts. Everything seemed -quiet. No sound came from either within or without the darkened cottage. -If Carlo Bone were to return, it seemed probable that he would do so -before dawn in order to avoid recognition from any of the early risers -of the hamlet. - -At length grey dawn paled in the north-eastern sky. The birds began -singing, cocks crowed. The mist over the creek drifted slowly in the -faint air-currents. In one of the cottages smoke began to issue from the -squat stone chimney. - -At sunrise the Scoutmaster withdrew his observers, replacing Craddock -and Heavitree by Symington and Talbot. Wilson took Carline’s place, but -Craddock asked to be allowed to remain. - -From the cottages men went forth unto their work and to their labour. On -the rising tide the fishing boats put out. By five o’clock the whole -place was astir. - -Mr. Grant was frankly disappointed. The only result of the Sea Scouts’ -vigil was, in his opinion, that they had proved that Carlo Bone had not -returned to his cottage. - -“It’s no use waiting any longer, lads,” he said. “We’ll get -breakfast—you must all be ravenous—and then I’ll see the police.” - -Even as he spoke, the front door of the cottage opened and Blueskin -appeared. He was fully dressed, even to his cap and leather thigh-boots, -while across one shoulder he carried a painted canvas sack. Both eyes -were badly discoloured, and the scowling look he gave to the Sea Scouts -added still further to the repulsiveness of his features. Once he paused -as if he were about to utter a jibe, but thinking better of it, he -trudged stolidly up the lane leading to the high road between Truro and -Falmouth. - -“We’ve been on the wrong tack this time, lads,” declared the -Scoutmaster. “He’s been in his cottage all the time. Of course, he may -have a confederate in this business: that we’ll have to find out or get -the police to see to. Meanwhile, breakfast, and then all hands turn in. -It’s spoilt our working day, I’m afraid.” - - - - - CHAPTER IV - Investigations - - -The Scoutmaster was perfectly correct in his surmise. Progress as far as -the work on the _Kestrel_ was concerned was virtually at a standstill -for that day. There were limits to the Sea Scouts’ powers of endurance. -The loss of a night’s rest following upon an exciting day was not to be -made up by a few hours’ sleep during the forenoon. - -There was little rest for Mr. Grant. After breakfast his first visit was -to the police station to report the case of attempted arson. The -inspector listened with ill-concealed incredulity until somewhat -reluctantly the Scoutmaster mentioned the name of Carlo Bone. - -“I wish to goodness you were certain that was the fellow!” exclaimed the -inspector. “We’ve been wanting to lay him by the heels for months past, -but we can never fix him. He’s as slippery as an eel. You say he -assaulted one of your lads and got knocked down in the process. Knowing -the man, I’ve no doubt but what he will try to score off you.” - -“Possibly,” agreed Mr. Grant. “We felt so sure that he was the fellow -that we kept watch on his cottage all night. He didn’t go into the -place. There were indisputable signs to show that neither of the doors -had been open for some hours. At daybreak, or just after, he emerged -from the cottage and went off.” - -“H’m!” ejaculated the inspector. “On the face of it, Carlo Bone could -easily establish an alibi. I know the cottage. The windows are as -heavily barred as a prison. Yet, knowing Bone as I do, it wouldn’t -surprise me to—— By the by, have you missed any gear? No? Well, that’s -rather unfortunate in a way. Had you done so, we would examine the -cottage inside and out on the strength of a search warrant.” - -“Do you think he has had an accomplice?” asked the Scoutmaster. - -The inspector shook his head. - -“I don’t think so,” he replied. “At least, not at Polkebo and district. -He’s not popular with his neighbours, and they’d welcome the news that -he’s doing a stretch. You are quite sure that it was petrol that was -squirted over your yacht? Did you test the stuff?” - -“If you mean did we set light to it to see if it would burn—no,” -answered Mr. Grant. “Apart from that the indications were unmistakable.” - -“I’ll send a constable down to keep an eye on things,” decided the -inspector. “I don’t think you’ll have any trouble when he’s about.” - -Mr. Grant thanked the police official and set off back to the boat. He -was not at all easy in his mind. The situation in a nutshell was this: -Some person or persons unknown had been guilty of a dastardly attempt to -injure the lads under his care. Blueskin might be, and probably was, -innocent of any knowledge of the matter. The miscreant might be a -homicidal lunatic or a person harbouring an imaginary grudge against the -crew of the _Kestrel_. - -The Scoutmaster was within fifty yards of Carlo Bone’s cottage when the -toe of his boot kicked against a metallic object hidden in the long -grass by the side of the path. He stopped and pulled aside the shoots. -There, with one end overhanging a shallow dry ditch, was a garden -syringe. The brasswork was dull, but not tarnished. The rim of the -jet-nozzle was fairly bright, showing that at no distant date someone -had had to use considerable force to remove it from the threaded end of -the barrel. - -Cautiously Mr. Grant removed the plunger and smelt the inside of the -barrel. There were no fumes of petrol, but—significant fact—the -leather washer, which usually is well saturated with oil, was bone dry. -Had the syringe been used for squirting water the leather would have -retained its dampness. - -Mr. Grant’s next step was to go to the “Dog and Gun,” and ask for Silas -Pescold, the landlord. Silas was a respected man in the little village, -and one who would be likely to identify the syringe. - -He did without hesitation. - -“Sure, zur,” he exclaimed. “Yes, Dick Marner’s. Many’s the time I’ve -borried et of him.” - -“Marner? That’s the man who walks lame, doesn’t he?” - -“Yes, zur; ’e broke ’is thigh come twenty year agone aboard the old -_Sarah_. Sin’ then, seeing as ’e’s no good in the boats, ’e’s been doin’ -odd gardenin’ jobs for the quality hereabouts. Like as not you’ll find -him up-along. ’E lives in t’end cottage past the quay.” - -The end cottage past the quay! It was in this direction that the -miscreant had made off when Peter Craddock interrupted his operations. - -Marner was at home. It was one of his bad days. The easterly wind -generally affected his damaged hip. - -“Is this your property?” asked Mr. Grant, holding up the syringe for -inspection. - -“Sure, ’tes, zur,” assented the old chap without hesitation. “If you’m -wishful tu borrer ut you’m kindly welcome.” - -“I haven’t come to borrow it, Mr. Marner,” rejoined Mr. Grant. “I’m here -to return it to you. I found it up the lane. Silas Pescold told me it -was yours.” - -The old man puckered up his eye in astonishment. - -“Found ’ut up-along, did ’e, zur?” he exclaimed. “That be tur’ble queer, -seein’ as I locked ut in the shed las’ night.” - -“At about what time?” - -“Afore it wur dark, zur.” - -“Evidently someone has broken into the shed,” remarked Mr. Grant. “Have -you been there to-day? Perhaps it would be as well if you did. I’ll come -with you, if I may?” - -The old man led the way up a steeply sloping garden. In a corner formed -by the junction of two hedges was a tumble-down structure composed of -boats’ planking, weatherboards, corrugated iron, and tarred felt. The -lock was in position, but it was one of those cheap varieties which -could easily be picked by means of a piece of bent wire. - -Marner threw open the door. Within were a number of gardening tools, a -pile of old sacks, a motor bicycle, and two tins of petrol. - -“That’s where I kept un,” declared Marner. “It be gone, as ye see, zur. -Nothin’ else be touched as far as I can see.” - -“Evidently someone borrowed it and lost it,” said the Scoutmaster. -“That’s a nice motor bike: you don’t ride it, do you, Mr. Marner?” - -The old man chuckled wheezily. - -“Not wi’ this leg, zur. Yes, tes my boy Richard’s; same name as mine ’e -be called. ’E wur a Scout same as your lads.” - -“Well, I hope Master Richard isn’t mixed up in this business,” thought -the Scoutmaster; then, aloud: “He’s not a Scout now, is he?” - -Marner chuckled again. - -“’E’s mate aboard th’ tawps’l schooner _Huterp_ o’ Fowey,” he announced -proudly. “She’s gone foreign wi’ a cargo o’ clay. Where eggsackly I -can’t remember like. Reckon she’s about due back come a week or so; an’ -if so happen you’m still hereabouts ye might see ’im.” - -Mr. Grant gave a sigh of relief. It was with no slight degree of -satisfaction that he realised the impossibility of Dick Marner, ex-Scout -and the apple of the father’s eye, being implicated in this unpleasant -business. - -The while he was conversing with the old man, Mr. Grant kept his eyes -wide open. There was nothing of the nature of a clue as far as the shed -was concerned. The floor was of hard trodden clay. No tell-tale -footprints had left their mark. Both petrol cans, judging by the -undisturbed dust on them, had not been touched since Richard Marner, -junior, had shipped on board the topsail schooner _Euterpe_ of Fowey. -But obviously the fellow who had broken into the shed knew his bearings. -He was aware that there was a syringe; he wanted it, so he went to work -to take it without disturbing anything else. - -“Do you know of any of your neighbours who would borrow the syringe -without asking you if they might?” enquired the Scoutmaster. - -“No, zur,” replied Marner. “But why’m you so askifying? You’m -questionin’ me same as if I wur a pickpocket at Bodmin Fair.” - -It was a perfectly reasonable request. In the circumstances, Mr. Grant -realised that it was only fair to old Marner to explain the facts that -led up to his visit. - -“An’ you’m come here thinkin’ as ’ow my son Dick had a-set fire to your -boat?” demanded old Marner angrily. - -Mr. Grant hastened to pour uninflammable oil upon troubled waters. In -this he ultimately succeeded, and, taking leave of the old man, he -returned to the _Kestrel_. So far his investigation had drawn blank; -but, he reflected, his task was to prevent a repetition of the dastardly -attempt. The detection of the offender might well be left in the hands -of the police. - - - - - CHAPTER V - Adrift - - -For the next six or seven days the work of getting the _Kestrel_ ready -for sea proceeded apace. The final coat of paint had been applied and -was now dry. Sails had been bent; running rigging overhauled and rove; -extra ballast in the form of iron pigs had been stowed under the floor. -Fresh water and provisions had been brought on board, and although there -remained a considerable amount of “finishing off” work to be done, the -_Kestrel_ was in a fit and seaworthy condition to attempt her voyage up -Channel. - -No other disquieting incident had occurred during the period, while to -add to the serenity of the situation definite information had been -received that Blueskin Bone had shipped on board a tramp steamer at -Falmouth and was now on his way to Rotterdam. - -Meanwhile the _Kestrel’s_ mascot had been making steady progress. After -much deliberation the Sea Scouts had decided to bestow the name of Molly -upon the little animal. She was no longer the terrified, half-drowned -puppy that Peter had rescued from the dark waters of the creek. Her -coat, carefully combed and brushed, had acquired a gloss; her ribs were -no longer painfully in evidence. Already she realised that a human hand -could be something else than a means of imparting pain, although it was -some time before she ceased to cringe in fear of a possible unwarranted -thrashing. - -“I wish Molly would be a little bit livelier,” remarked Peter. “I’ve -never seen such a sedate pup.” - -“Don’t you worry, old son,” rejoined Brandon. “She’s all right. P’raps -before long she’ll be too lively, even for you. How about a collar for -her?” - -“Later on,” decided Craddock. “If she had one now she’d grow out of it -in a week or so. I’ll make one when we’re under way. As it is, we -haven’t a minute to spare.” - -That was a fact. Time was getting on, and there was still much to be -done if the _Kestrel_ were to sail in company with the _Merlin_. - -At length the eve of the eventful day arrived. To-morrow at the hour of -ten in the morning the voyage up Channel was timed to commence, that -hour being fixed to enable both yachts to take advantage of the first of -the east-going tide. - -The _Kestrel_, glistening in her new coat of paint, looked very -different from the half-completed craft the Sea Scouts had taken over -only a short while ago. She was now a ketch-rigged yacht with a spacious -cockpit and ample accommodation under her cabin-top. Her original sails -had been altered to form a serviceable and yet moderate spread of -canvas. The only thing wanting was a motor; but, as Craddock observed, -“Drake hadn’t a motor when he sailed round the world; so we ought to -manage to find our way up Channel without one.” - -“All the same I wish we had an engine,” said Carline. “The _Kestrel_ is -a whopping lump of a craft to move in a dead calm.” - -“We may get a motor some day,” added Mr. Grant. “When we’ve been -shipmates with one the lack of an engine seems a serious matter. We must -cut our coat according to our cloth, you know. Now, lads, the tide’s -making well. We’re nearly afloat, so get busy.” - -The _Kestrel_ was to be taken from Polkebo Creek that evening and sailed -down to a berth off Greenbank at Falmouth, where the _Merlin_ was lying, -in order that both craft might start together. - -Almost everyone in Polkebo turned out to see the _Kestrel_ start, for -with one exception (and he, it was to be hoped, was far away) the -inhabitants of the hamlet were on excellent terms with the Aberstour Sea -Scouts. There was also much speculation on the part of the professional -seafaring folk as to how the amateur-altered ex-Service launch, manned -chiefly by lads in their teens, would be handled. - -Although there was a steady leading wind the houses and trees blanketed -most of it; so without difficulty canvas was set, sheets overrun, and -all preparation made before the rising tide floated the yacht off. - -“She’ll do it now, lads,” exclaimed Mr. Grant. “Head-sheet to wind’ard, -then! Cast off for’ard!” - -The _Kestrel_ held only by the stern-warp, swung slowly on her heel. She -was afloat all right. - -“Let go aft!” ordered the Scoutmaster. “Trim your fore and jib sheets.” - -Almost imperceptibly the _Kestrel_, steady as a rock, gathered way. The -crowd ashore cheered. The Sea Scouts responded lustily. The gap between -the yacht and the quay widened. The water began to ripple under the -yacht’s forefoot. She heeled to the strengthening breeze. - -“Take her, Brandon,” said Mr. Grant, relinquishing the tiller. “She’ll -do.” - -Against the still flowing tide the _Kestrel_ made steady progress. She -was “as stiff as a house,” and showed a decided tendency to carry -weather-helm—a qualification that all craft under sail must possess if -they are to be accounted seaworthy. - -In less than half an hour the _Kestrel_ hove-to within fifty yards of -the _Merlin_, on which Scoutmaster Pendennis and his crew of hefty -Cornish Sea Scouts were awaiting their approach. - -“Sorry there are no moorings for you!” hailed Mr. Pendennis. “Let go -your anchor. Tide’s slackening. She’ll ride head to wind all right.” - -The anchor was dropped, sails stowed, riding light trimmed ready to be -hoisted at sunset. For the rest of the evening the crews “palled up,” -some of the _Kestrel’s_ going aboard the _Merlin_, while a part of the -latter’s complement came over to the _Kestrel_. - -At sunset the Sea Scouts returned to their respective craft, had supper, -and turned in. Giving a final look round and satisfying himself that the -riding-light was burning clearly, Mr. Grant followed the example of his -crew. - -“No need to turn out before seven,” he announced. “Get in a good night’s -rest while you’ve the chance. You never know when you’ll get another -when we’re under way.” - -Peter Craddock was the first to awake. A pale grey light was filtering -through the skylight. The _Kestrel_ was rolling slightly, and the dinghy -had just commenced to bump alongside. - -“Turn of the tide, I expect,” thought the lad drowsily. “It can’t be -much more than five o’clock. Too soon to turn out.” - -Casually he glanced at his watch; looked again and then held it to his -ear. It was ticking merrily. The hands pointed to twenty minutes past -seven. By that time it ought to be broad daylight. It wasn’t. - -Somewhat mystified, Peter rolled out of his bunk and went on deck. To -his surprise a thick fog enveloped everything. From the companion ladder -it was only just possible to discern the lower part of the mizzen-mast -looking grotesquely distorted in the watery haze. An uncanny silence -prevailed. No sounds came from the near-by town. Then the distant wail -of a syren came through the mist. - -According to the state of the tide, the _Kestrel_ should be riding to -the last of the ebb. How came it then that the dinghy, instead of -straining at her painter, was rubbing alongside the yacht’s quarter? - -“Something wrong,” muttered Peter, and making his way for’ard along the -damp and clammy waterway, he gained the bows. Then he felt the cable. -The chain came up easily, and no wonder; for instead of there being ten -fathoms of it, terminating in a seventy-pound anchor, only a dozen links -or so were trailing uselessly through the hawse-pipe. - -The _Kestrel_ was adrift in a thick sea fog, and at the mercy of the -swirling tide. - - - - - CHAPTER VI - In the Fog - - -“Turn out, you fellows!” shouted Craddock. “All hands on deck! We’ve -parted our cable, and there’s a heavy fog on.” - -The rest of the crew tumbled out of their bunks and hammocks and hurried -into their clothes. They accepted Peter’s statement without any -hesitation, for it was one of the few hard-and-fast rules on board that -on no account was a false alarm to be knowingly raised. Skylarking in -its proper place was encouraged and harmless practical joking permitted; -but each Sea Scout had been impressed with the seriousness of the harm -that might occur by raising the nautical equivalent to the shout of -“’Ware Wolf!” when there was not one. - -In various stages of “undress uniform,” Scoutmaster and Sea Scouts -gained the deck. The lads remained silent, waiting for Mr. Grant’s -orders. He was frankly puzzled. The _Kestrel_ had been anchored -surrounded by yachts and boats in the crowded anchorage of Greenbank. It -seemed incredible that she should have drifted any distance without -fouling some of the craft in the tideway. - -Craddock had reported that the cable had parted. Mr. Grant hoped that -such was not the case. He had known of anchors being dropped with one of -the flukes caught in the bobstay and with only the bight of the chain -resting on the bottom. He rather wished such was the case now. - -“Get the fog-horn, Wilson,” he ordered. “Two blasts about every minute, -please. And, Craddock, you might heave the lead. The others prepare to -make sail.” - -Groping his way for’ard, for the fog was so thick that even the still -burning riding-lamp ten feet above the deck was invisible, Mr. Grant -grasped the cable and hauled in the slack. One look was sufficient. The -last of the remaining links had been deliberately cut through with a -hack-saw. The rest of the chain, together with the anchor, was lying on -the bed of Falmouth Harbour—miles away, probably. - -It was no time for feelings of resentment and anger. The Scoutmaster -came aft. - -“What water have we?” he asked. - -“No bottom, sir,” reported Peter. - -Mr. Grant gave an involuntary gasp of astonishment. The lead-line, 25 -fathoms, or 150 feet, in length, was insufficient to touch the bed of -the sea. - -“Bend another line to it,” he continued. - -“I’m doing it already, sir,” announced Craddock. - -“Good! . . . Now, how much?” - -“Another four fathoms, sir,” reported the leadsman. - -The Scoutmaster was on the point of going below, when Wilson stopped -him. - -“Why are we to give two blasts, sir?” he enquired. “Oughtn’t we to sound -a bell or something like that? We’re supposed to be at anchor.” - -Even in his worried state of mind, Mr. Grant did not hesitate to reply. - -“It puzzled me what signal to make at first,” he answered. “Although we -were anchored—that is to say, I thought we were—the _Kestrel_ had -obviously moved. In that case we are under way, and although we haven’t -yet made sail, what wind there is is on our port beam. Consequently it -is assumed that we are on the port tack; therefore, two blasts.” - -“Where are we, sir?” asked Carline. - -“That’s what I want to find out,” replied Mr. Grant. “I’m going below to -look at the chart.” - -Within the saloon the light was so dim that the lamp had to be lighted -before it was possible to read the minute figures on the chart. Very -soon the Scoutmaster’s worst fears were confirmed. Nowhere within -Falmouth Harbour is a depth of twenty-nine fathoms to be obtained, even -at the top of high-water springs. Obviously, then, the _Kestrel_ had -drifted with the tide right out of the harbour without colliding with -any other craft and fortunately clearing the dangerous Black Rock that -lies in the mouth of the harbour and approximately midway between the -projecting arms of Pendennis and St. Anthony. According to the -soundings, the _Kestrel_ was somewhere on a line extending from the -dreaded Manacles to the Dodman, and might be anywhere between those -points, a distance of approximately fifteen sea-miles. - -It was not an envious position for the _Kestrel_ to be in. There was no -wind, but a very heavy fog. She might or might not be in the way of -vessels making for or leaving Falmouth Harbour. If she drifted -northwards she would sooner or later pile herself up upon the iron-bound -coast. The same condition would apply if she drifted west’ard. Provided -a breeze sprung up, the best course was to make for the open Channel, -but even then there was a risk of being run down in the busy steamer -track that passed a few miles to the south’ard of the Lizard. To attempt -to grope their way back to Falmouth, starting from an absolutely unknown -position, was out of the question. - -Effectually concealing his anxiety, Mr. Grant returned on deck. By this -time the Sea Scouts, under Patrol Leader Brandon’s direction, had set -all plain sail. Fortunately Frank had remembered the invisible -riding-light on the forestay. - -In the flat calm, although there was a light swell on, the canvas hung -idly. From the cockpit only a part of the mainsail as far as the upper -line of reef-points and a small portion of the mizzen were visible. The -rest was swallowed up in the fog. - -“This is the worst fog we’ve struck,” remarked Craddock, as he coiled up -the lead-line for another cast. - -“It is,” agreed the Scoutmaster. “Luckily we’ve plenty of sea-room.” - -“Plenty of sea-room, sir?” echoed Peter. “Where are we?” - -“That, exactly, I don’t know,” confessed Mr. Grant frankly. “What I do -know is that we’ve drifted right out of Falmouth Harbour and are in the -English Channel. As a rule fogs don’t last very long at this time of -year. When the sun is well up there’ll be a breeze and the mist will -disperse. Meanwhile we must take things as we find them and be thankful -they are no worse.” - -“I wonder what the _Merlin_ is doing,” remarked Brandon. - -“Still on her moorings, I expect,” hazarded Heavitree. “They’ll think -we’ve given them the slip.” - -“If the fog’s anything like it is here they won’t know we’ve gone,” -rejoined the Patrol Leader. “Unless they hail us,” he added as an -afterthought. “Wonder why the cable parted? We tested it carefully when -we stowed it aboard the first time.” - -“This is the reason,” announced Mr. Grant, producing the cut link from -his pocket. “Someone has been monkeying about with the chain. It has -been deliberately cut through with a hack-saw. When and by whom remains -a question.” - -“Blueskin?” enquired Symington and Talbot simultaneously. - -“Perhaps, but unlikely,” replied the Scoutmaster. “I’m basing my idea -upon the assumption that Carlo Bone has had a sea training. Some -miscreant, probably the fellow who squirted petrol over the _Kestrel_, -has an imaginary grievance against us. He’s been trying to destroy the -yacht by the most underhanded methods imaginable. Failing to set her on -fire, he cut through this link, knowing that it would still bear any -ordinary strain, but not a heavy one. He was counting upon the cable -parting while we were riding at anchor in some harbour during a stiff -gale. Now, a seaman wouldn’t cut a link in that fashion—with the cut -away from the yacht’s bows. He would saw through the other end of the -link so that when it did part it would go with the outboard portion of -the cable, and thus cover up all trace of his underhand work.” - -“But it might have been Blueskin,” remarked Wilson. - -“Yes, it might,” agreed Mr. Grant, “but having misjudged him once I -don’t feel justified in laying the blame upon him. Not that we are -likely to discover the culprit. Now I think we might see about a -somewhat belated breakfast.” - -While Talbot and Wilson, “the cooks of the day,” went below to prepare -the meal, the others set about various tasks on deck. Craddock continued -to heave the lead at about five minutes’ intervals, the soundings -remaining fairly regular. Carline took over the manipulation of the -fog-horn, standing by the now useless tiller in case a puff of wind -should bear down through the barrier of fog. - -Brandon and Heavitree assisted the Scoutmaster to bend the cable to the -kedge. Fortunately there still remained between fifteen and twenty -fathoms of the former, but in the absence of a long link there was no -means of shackling it direct to the kedge—a small anchor of about -twenty-five pounds in weight. Consequently the chain had to be made fast -to the ring in the kedge by a “fisherman’s bend,” the end being stopped -with wire to guard against any possibility of the knot slipping. - -“Brekker nearly ready?” enquired Brandon, calling through the open -skylight. - -“It is,” replied Talbot, “but you won’t get any till you’ve cleared up -below.” - -“By Jove!” exclaimed the Patrol Leader, “I’d forgotten that! Come on, -lads; let’s square up and make all ship-shape below.” - -The saloon was in a bit of an untidy state. The Sea Scouts on their -hurried exit for the deck had tumbled out of bunks and hammocks, leaving -the former littered with blankets and the latter swaying to and fro from -the deck-beams. The bedding was passed out, shaken, and folded; the -hammocks unshipped and stowed in their accustomed places when not in -use. Quickly the disordered saloon assumed a semblance of tidiness. - -“Where’s Molly?” enquired Brandon. - -No one knew. She had been last seen asleep in a box under Craddock’s -bunk. - -All hands below joined in the search. They called the pup by name, -hunted high and low, but without success. - -“S’pose she wasn’t in one of the blankets when we shook them overboard?” -suggested Heavitree. - -“Now you mention it, I think I did hear a sort of splash,” said -Symington. “It was too thick to see.” - -“Let’s hope not,” continued Heavitree. “She’s not big enough to climb -the companion ladder.” - -“What’s the matter, lads?” enquired Mr. Grant, entering the cabin and -removing his dripping cap. - -“We’ve lost Molly, sir,” announced Brandon dolefully. - -The Scoutmaster sat down on one of the settees. As he did so a growl of -protest came from the neighbourhood of his back. Turning, he raised one -of the side-cushions. There, in a small recess formed between the two -cushions, was the missing pup together with about nine-tenths of a shoe. - -“Peter, old man!” sang out the Patrol Leader, “Molly’s been lost. We’ve -found her making a meal of your shoe. Jolly careless of you to leave -your gear all over the place.” - -Craddock, from whom the news of his special pet’s disappearance had been -hitherto kept, temporarily abandoned his sounding operations and came -below. - -“Naughty pup!” he said reprovingly. - -Molly, no wise daunted, looked fearlessly up into her master’s face and -struggled to give him a lick of devotion and affection. - -“She wouldn’t be so brave a week ago,” remarked Brandon. “Don’t hit her, -Peter.” - -“No fear,” replied his chum. Then he critically examined the damaged -footgear. - -“Strikes me, old son, you’ve made a slight mistake,” he continued, -addressing Brandon. “It’s not my shoe; it’s yours.” - -The others roared at the Patrol Leader’s discomfiture, but Brandon took -it in good part. - -“That shows Molly’s sense of discrimination,” he retorted, taking the -shoe from Peter’s hand. “It’s one of my second best. Where’s the other -one, I wonder?” - -He searched and discovered it in his kit-bag, together with one of his -best shore-going pair. A further hunt failed to find the other. Molly, -with her sense of discrimination, had taken two odd ones from the Patrol -Leader’s kit-bag, and of these one had been thrown overboard by -Symington when he had shaken out his blankets. To make matters worse the -odd shoes were both lefts. - -Breakfast was dispatched in grand style. The Sea Scouts were in high -spirits. The fact that they were surrounded by fog hardly troubled them. -They were afloat in one of the soundest craft imaginable for her size, -and, what was more, they were bound for the Jamboree. If necessary they -had sufficient provisions and fresh water for a week. - -Nor was Mr. Grant perturbed. Now that he realised the _Kestrel_ had -plenty of sea-room, he had little to worry about. On a still day such as -this, sounds could be heard for quite a long distance, and since the -continual roar of the Channel swell against the iron-bound coast was -inaudible he knew that any danger of the yacht being cast ashore by the -strong and intricate currents of the district was a remote one. - -Noon came, bringing with it no breeze to disperse the dense pall of -mist. At times the fog lifted sufficiently to enable the bowsprit-end to -be seen; at others it was a matter of difficulty to distinguish objects -six feet away. - -The while the _Kestrel_ was underlying in the game of “chasing her own -tail.” Absolutely drifting in a dead calm, she was powerless to answer -to her helm. Her bows swung round very slowly through every point of the -compass and continued to do so. Yet the while, judging by the drag of -the lead-line when allowed to remain in the bottom, she was being swept -in an easterly direction by the two-knot tide. Well away to the -south’ard came an almost continual braying of many sirens. The steamer -track was as yet a safe distance off. - -By two in the afternoon the crew began to find time hang heavily on -their hands. The reaction of having nothing definite to do following -upon days of strenuous activity from morn to night was telling. They -could see nothing beyond the limits of their floating home, and hardly -that. There was plenty to be done by way of “finishing off” various jobs -below, but the light was too dim to enable anything in that line to be -attempted. They coiled down or “flemished” every rope on deck, spun -yarns, tried to teach their overfed and decidedly sleepy mascot various -tricks—all without success. - -“Wish the fog would lift,” remarked Carline. - -“And a breeze spring up,” added Heavitree, looking wistfully at the idle -canvas. - -The Scoutmaster, too, was puzzled, not only by the persistency of the -fog, but by the absence of sound from any of the shore signal stations. -In vain he kept listening for the fog signals from the Lizard. That -dangerous headland might be only a few miles away and yet the sound be -inaudible. Fog, he knew, plays strange tricks with sound. Frequently -there are zones of silence over which sounds leap to be distinctly -audible at a long distance beyond the source of emission. All he knew -concerning the _Kestrel’s_ position was that she was drifting slowly in -a south-easterly direction, but that on the turn of the Channel -tide—which by no means coincided with the time of high and low water on -the shore—the yacht would be swept in the reverse direction and -possibly be driven aground on the dangerous coast between the Lizard and -the Manacles. - -No wonder he wished fervently for the fog to lift. - -The hours passed slowly. It was not until nearly eight o’clock that a -faint breeze ruffled the water and the wall of vapour began to disperse. - -“Hurrah! a breeze!” exclaimed Brandon, as the hitherto idly-playing main -boom swung out and tugged gently at the mainsheet. - -“What course, sir?” asked the Patrol Leader, as the _Kestrel_ gathered -way. - -“Sou’-sou’-east,” replied Mr. Grant. “It’ll mean a night afloat, lads.” - -“Good egg!” ejaculated Heavitree. - -The Scoutmaster wasn’t so sure about it. Possibly there would be half a -gale of wind when the fog did disperse; and until it did the _Kestrel_ -must have plenty of sea-room. To attempt to make a strange harbour in a -mist and with only a few remaining hours of daylight was asking for -trouble. - -The breeze held; but the mist, although diminishing in density, -continued to hang about in irregular patches. - -“Keep your eyes skinned, lads!” continued Mr. Grant. “We ought to be -seeing land on our port quarter.” - -“Sail ahead!” sang out Craddock. - - - - - CHAPTER VII - The Derelict - - -“Down helm!” ordered Brandon, in his capacity of officer of the -starboard watch. “At that! Keep her so!” - -The _Kestrel_, answering readily to a slight pressure on the tiller, -changed her course to bring the other craft on her port bow. - -“If we pass within hailing distance they might be able to give us our -position,” remarked the Patrol Leader. - -Quickly the stranger loomed up in the dispersing mist, for by this time -visibility extended to nearly a quarter of a mile. She turned out to be -a schooner. Her topsails were furled, but her fore and aft canvas was -set, the head-sails being to wind’ard. Under these conditions she was -“hove-to” with a decided list to port. - -As a precautionary measure the _Kestrel_ announced her approach by three -blasts of her fog-horn, for the wind was well abaft the beam. No reply -came from the schooner. - -“Careless look-out, what?” observed Peter. - -“I fancy there’s something amiss,” replied Brandon. “There doesn’t seem -to be anyone on board. What shall we do, sir?” - -Mr. Grant, thus appealed to, shook his head. - -“You’re standing your trick, Brandon,” he replied. “Officially I’m not -on duty. Use your own discretion.” - -The Patrol Leader warmed at the implied compliment. He knew the -Scoutmaster’s views. As far as prudence dictated, Mr. Grant left the -seamanship entirely to his youthful crew. It was the best way to enable -them to gain confidence in themselves. He was merely a sort of referee, -ready to assist by advice and deed should the Sea Scouts commit any -serious error. Not that they often did. He had great confidence in the -skill and resourcefulness of his crew. - -“Stand by to go about!” ordered Brandon. “We’ll run under her lee and -see if anything is wrong with her.” - -Full and bye, the _Kestrel_ passed a full hundred yards to lee’ard of -the schooner, and then the mystery was in part solved. The vessel had -been in collision. Most of her counter had been carried away, the damage -extending almost, if not quite, to the water line. She was well down by -the stern—possibly not far short of foundering. There was no sign of a -boat. Apparently the crew had abandoned her and had either made for the -shore or else had been picked up by the craft that had run the schooner -down. Owing to the severe damage to the stern, her name and port of -registry were not to be seen, but by the yellow letters on her bow the -derelict proclaimed herself to be the _Euterpe_. - -“That name seems familiar,” thought Mr. Grant. “Where have I heard that? -I remember. Old Richard Marner told me his son was on her—_Huterp_, he -pronounced the name.” - -“Lee-o!” ordered Brandon. “Head sheets to wind’ard! Gather in your -mainsheet roundly!” - -The _Kestrel_ went about slowly yet unhesitatingly and hove-to on the -starboard tack within fifty yards of the _Euterpe’s_ starboard quarter. - -“I’ll send the dinghy off to her, sir,” said the Patrol Leader. “There -might be someone on board.” - -“Do so,” agreed Mr. Grant. “I’ll take charge of the dinghy. We must be -very careful how we go alongside. She won’t last very much longer, I -fancy.” - -The boat was hauled up alongside the _Kestrel_. Into her jumped the -Scoutmaster and Craddock and Heavitree. - -A few strokes brought the dinghy to the abandoned schooner. She was so -low aft that it was quite an easy matter to board her by the main -chains. The Scoutmaster did so, bidding the two lads hang on, but to be -ready to push off should the vessel show a tendency to hasten her -departure to Davy Jones’ locker. - -Almost as soon as he gained the deck, Mr. Grant caught sight of a black -cat sitting close to the companion leading to the cabin. - -“There’s a cat aboard, lads!” he announced, going to the rail and -addressing the crew of the dinghy. “I’ll hand it down to you.” - -“At this rate we’ll have a regular menagerie on the _Kestrel_ before we -reach Chichester Harbour,” remarked Peter to his companion. “Hope the -animal will make friends with Molly.” - -The Scoutmaster walked slowly towards the cat, calling “Puss, puss!” in -a coaxing tone. The animal, however, showed no enthusiasm at the -prospect of being rescued. In fact, it evinced a decided reluctance to -do so; and, waiting until Mr. Grant was within a couple of yards or so, -it turned and bolted down the ladder. - -Mr. Grant followed. It was a risky business going below, with the -schooner in danger of making a sudden plunge. - -At the foot of the companion ladder was a small lobby with two doors. -The starboard door was shut; the other one ajar. Obviously the cat had -taken refuge in the cabin on the port side. - -Before pursuing the animal, the Scoutmaster opened the door of the -starboard or captain’s cabin. Everything was in order. The skipper must -have been on deck when the collision occurred and had not waited to save -his personal belongings before taking to the boat. - -Closing the door, Mr. Grant stepped into the other cabin. At the after -end pale daylight showed through the jagged gap in the counter. Water -gurgled sullenly under the floor, a portion of which had been violently -up-heaved by the compact, causing the swing table to be capsized -together with a quantity of splintered woodwork. - -“Puss! puss!” he called again. “Bother the animal! Where’s it got to?” - -Suddenly the Scoutmaster caught sight of a man’s legs protruding from -the pile of debris. The occupant of the cabin had been caught and pinned -down—crushed more than likely—by the sudden and unexpected blow of the -colliding vessel’s bows. - -A few minutes’ desperate work enabled Mr. Grant to remove most of the -tightly wedged woodwork and disentangle the motionless form of the -luckless man. Then, without waiting to see whether he were alive or -dead, the Scoutmaster dragged him out of the cabin, up the steep and -narrow ladder, and across the deck. - -“Stand by, Peter!” he exclaimed breathlessly, and passing a bowline -round the unconscious form, he unceremoniously lowered him into the -dinghy. - -“I’ll have a look into the forepeak in case there’s anyone else!” he -announced. - -“Where’s the cat, sir?” shouted Craddock, after the retreating form of -his Scoutmaster. - -The question was answered by the animal itself. Springing on the -bulwarks, the cat leapt fearlessly into the boat and proceeded to curl -itself upon the chest of the motionless figure in the stern-sheets. - -Presently Mr. Grant returned. - -“No one else is aboard,” he reported. “Hello! You’ve got the cat, I -see!” - -Cautiously he lowered himself into the dinghy and crouched in the bows. -There was no room aft. - -“Push off, and give way, lads!” he exclaimed. - -By this time the _Kestrel_ had forged ahead and had increased her -distance to about a cable’s length. The dinghy had not covered more than -two-thirds of the distance when the stricken _Euterpe_ disappeared -beneath the surface. - -She went with very little fuss. There was a slight explosion of -compressed air, followed by a swirling movement of the water. There -appeared to be very little suction and hardly any commotion in the form -of breaking waves; but—and Mr. Grant gave an inward prayer of -thanks—the schooner had heeled to starboard as she disappeared. Had the -dinghy been close alongside she would have been crushed by the vessel’s -mainmast or else entangled in the still set canvas as the schooner -capsized. - -The rowers rested on their oars and watched the vessel’s disappearance -with awestruck faces. - -“That was a close shave for us,” said Heavitree, breaking the silence. - -“It was,” agreed Mr. Grant. “Give way; another dozen strokes will do the -trick.” - -The dinghy ranged up alongside the _Kestrel_. Craddock and Heavitree -held on while the Scoutmaster handed the heavy burden of the motionless -man to the ready arms of Brandon and his companions. - -The dinghy was made fast by the painter, but the _Kestrel_ was still -kept hove-to while the crew attended to the rescued man. - -“He’s still alive,” declared Mr. Grant. “That’s what stunned him.” - -He pointed to a nasty gash in the man’s temple from which the blood was -flowing slowly. In fact, it had almost ceased to do so, indicating that -the injury had been done at least two hours ago. In addition, his right -foot was badly nipped, with a superficial but nasty graze extending the -whole length of the shin-bone. - -“No fracture,” pronounced Mr. Grant after a careful examination of the -limbs. “First aid dressings, please, Brandon. We’ll leave him in the -cockpit till he recovers consciousness, but keep his body and limbs warm -with blankets. He’d better have my bunk to-night.” - -“Why, your hand’s bleeding, sir,” exclaimed Carline. - -The Scoutmaster glanced at his right hand. There was a small scratch -extending from the base of the middle finger almost to the centre of the -palm. - -“Nothing much,” he remarked. “I expect I caught the business end of a -piece of splintered wood. I didn’t even feel it. . . . Get way on her, -Peter! Same course, please; we can’t do better than that.” - -Presently, judging by sounds emanating from the saloon, Molly and the -cat were “having a few words.” The pup was barking shrilly, while the -other animal, with arched back, was replying in no uncertain voice. - -“Let them alone, and they’ll make friends,” remarked Peter to Talbot, -who had expressed his intention of going below and separating the -“menagerie.” “The more you jolly well interfere the worse they’ll -be—sort of showing off.” - -“I wonder if the sea superstition will hold good in our case,” asked -Carline. “They say a black cat on board a ship always brings a gale of -wind.” - -Craddock glanced astern. Twilight was stealing over the misty sea. -Through the gathering gloom came a dismal whine—the sound that often -heralds the approach of a squall. - -“We haven’t long to wait for it, lads!” he exclaimed, making a spring -for the cleated mainsheet. “It’s here now!” - - - - - CHAPTER VIII - The Man they Rescued - - -The _Kestrel_ was in an unfavourable position to withstand the first of -the squall. She was running almost dead before the present breeze. -Should the blast come from even a slightly different direction there was -the great risk of an involuntary gybe. The main and mizzen booms would -swing over with terrific force and either carry away the runners or else -spring one or both masts. - -Fortunately, Craddock kept his head. Shouting to Talbot to ease the -head-sheets, he put the helm down gently. - -The squall came. In spite of the canvas shaking as the wind “spilled” -it, the ketch heeled till her lee rail was awash; then, recovering, she -leapt forward like a racehorse as Peter cautiously took a strain on the -mainsheet. - -At a warning shout, Mr. Grant hurried up from below, saw what Craddock -had done, and nodded approval. - -“She’s as stiff as a house,” he exclaimed reassuringly. “All the same, -we’ll have the mizzen sail off of her while it’s still light . . . and -the big jib as well. Bear a hand, Brandon, to get our patient below. He -may get knocked about if he remains here.” - -The injured man was showing signs of returning consciousness. He moaned -as he was being lifted, opened his eyes, and gazed blankly into the -Scoutmaster’s face. - -“You’re all right,” said Mr. Grant consolingly. - -The patient closed his eyes and gave no further sign of movement. With -difficulty, owing to the erratic motion of the yacht, they carried him -down the narrow companion way and into the Scoutmaster’s cabin. - -While this was being done Craddock put the _Kestrel_ into the wind and -hove-to, while canvas was being reduced. Stowing and furling the mizzen -sail was accomplished with little difficulty; but the task of taking in -the No. 1 jib and substituting the No. 3 took some doing. The yacht -pitched so violently in the rapidly rising sea that Heavitree and -Symington, on whom this task devolved, were frequently waist-deep in -water as they knelt on the fore-deck and struggled with out-haul and -jib-halliards and sought to muzzle the fiercely flapping canvas. - -At last the business of reducing sail was accomplished, and the -_Kestrel_ put on her former course. With whole mainsail, staysail, and -baby-jib she made splendid weather of it. In fact, she could have stood -more canvas; but in view of night approaching it was prudent to keep her -well under control, especially as the now hard wind might increase in -force. - -Meanwhile the side-lights had been placed in position. Both had been -tested during the process of fitting out, but now for some unaccountable -reason the starboard lamp refused to keep alight. - -“This is no light matter on a dark night,” said Heavitree. “No joke -intended, Peter! Any good trying a handkerchief round the ventilation -holes?” - -“Might do it,” replied Craddock. “It seems as if the thing isn’t getting -enough air as it is. However, see what you can do.” - -Cautiously making his way for’ard, Heavitree grasped the shrouds with -one hand and with the other removed the lamp from the screen. He had to -take it into the saloon to relight it, and at the same time he wound his -handkerchief loosely round the lower part of the lamp. Almost as soon as -he regained the cockpit the light went out. - -“You’re whacked, old son!” exclaimed Craddock. - -“Am I—you see!” retorted Heavitree as he went below again with the -extinguished lamp. - -In a few minutes he returned with the green light gleaming exceptionally -brightly. Curiously Peter watched his chum go for’ard, expecting every -second to see the light vanish. It didn’t. - -Heavitree refixed the lamp and came aft. It gave no further trouble. The -resourceful Sea Scout had removed the oil reservoir and had substituted -his small electric flash lamp. - -The _Kestrel_ was now maintaining quite a good speed. Peter took it to -be at least eight knots, but perhaps like most amateurs he was apt to -overestimate the vessel’s rate. In spite of the curling, crested waves, -she came through with hardly any water on her decks, and although at -times the following seas appeared high and menacing, she rode them in a -manner that gave everyone the greatest confidence in her seagoing -qualities. - -“Light on the port bow, sir!” reported Wilson. - -“Your eyes are sharper than mine, then,” rejoined the Scoutmaster, after -a prolonged look in the direction indicated. - -“There it is again, sir,” declared the lad. “Two quick flashes!” - -“I see them, too,” added Talbot. - -“So do I,” agreed Mr. Grant. “Well, now we know where we are, more or -less. That’s the Eddystone.” - -He took a rough compass bearing and went below to apply the reading to -the chart. The result rather surprised him. According to the -calculation, the _Kestrel_ ought to have been farther to the south’ard. -Either there was considerable deviation of the compass, or else the -yacht had been carried northwards by a tidal current. Leeway did not -enter into the problem, as the _Kestrel_ had been running free—except -for two brief intervals—from the time she picked up the breeze. - -It was something to be able to pick up the Eddystone light, but the -knowledge alone could not determine the _Kestrel’s_ position. A second -bearing cutting the first as near as possible at right angles would fix -that. - -By the aid of his night glasses, the Scoutmaster swept the horizon away -to the nor’ard, hoping to pick up St. Catherine’s light at the entrance -to Fowey Harbour. But the night was still hazy, and the light was -invisible. - -A tramp steamer passed at about a cable’s length to port. The moon -emerging from a bank of scudding clouds showed her plunging heavily into -the head seas. Frequently showers of glistening spray completely hid her -bows and flew high over her bridge. Yet the _Kestrel_, flying before the -wind, was making easy weather of it. - -Mr. Grant was now confronted with a difficult problem: whether to carry -on or to bear up and run for shelter into Plymouth Sound. On first -thoughts he favoured the latter alternative. With an injured man on -board, and having several hours before dawn to make for shelter, this -seemed the obvious thing to do. Then he considered the difficulties. He -had never been into Plymouth before. He was a stranger to the intricate -currents inside the breakwater. The Sound and Hamoaze were generally -crowded with shipping. The numerous navigation and riding-lamps were apt -to be particularly perplexing to a stranger, and there was no small risk -of disaster should an error of judgment occur. - -On the other hand, the _Kestrel_ was proving herself to be a capital -sea-boat. Better then to hold on, keeping plenty of sea-room, and gain -the sheltered waters of Start Bay at daybreak. - -Mr. Grant chose the latter alternative and stuck to it. Indecision he -held to be worse than incompetence. A person in charge of a vessel and -unable to make up his mind was a menace to his crew; an incompetent -skipper, although a despicable character, could be superseded in a -critical situation by a better man. - -Keeping Craddock and Heavitree on deck, the Scoutmaster took the helm -and told the rest of the crew to turn in. The two hefty Sea Scouts were -sufficient to assist him in the management of the yacht in a stiff blow -at night. The others would only be in the way. In addition they would be -as limp as rags in the morning. - -At 1 a.m. the Eddystone was abeam at a distance of about two miles. It -was still too hazy to pick up the powerful Start light, and there was no -object in “cracking on” and arriving off that dangerous headland before -dawn. - -Accordingly a couple of reefs were taken in the mainsail, and the -staysail was lowered and “bonneted” to the bowsprit. Even then the -_Kestrel_ maintained a fair speed and rode the waves like a cork, with -the dinghy’s bows high in the air as she strained at the end of a double -length of stout 50-feet rope. - -“Isn’t this top-hole, sir?” exclaimed Peter enthusiastically. “I’d -rather be in the _Kestrel_ than in that tramp which passed us some time -ago.” - -Before the Scoutmaster could offer any remark Brandon came out of the -cabin. - -“The man has come to,” he announced oracularly. - -“How does he feel? Did he say?” asked Mr. Grant. - -“Said he was thirsty, sir.” - -Telling Craddock to take the helm, Mr. Grant went below. - -He found the rescued man quite rational in spite of the serious injury -to his head. Reiterating the fact that he was thirsty, he continued by -asking where he was. - -The Scoutmaster explained. - -“You’re quite safe,” he continued. “But I’m afraid you’ll have to put up -with the limited accommodation on board until we can put you ashore. -I’ll give you something to drink; after that you must try all you can to -get to sleep.” - -“It du seem queer loike tu wake up an’ find myself here,” said the man, -as he watched the preparation of the beverage. “Last I remember wur I -wur sittin’ in——” - -“Don’t worry about that now,” interrupted Mr. Grant. “After you’ve slept -a few hours it will be interesting to hear your story. What’s your name, -by the by?” - -“Marner—Dick Marner,” was the not altogether unexpected reply. - - - - - CHAPTER IX - What Marner Revealed - - -“Light on our port bow, sir!” reported Craddock. - -“How far off?” asked Mr. Grant, through the open skylight. - -“Miles, sir,” replied Peter. “Another lighthouse, I fancy.” - -“Good! I’ll be on deck in a minute,” rejoined the Scoutmaster. - -Having reassured himself that Marner was comfortable and almost on the -point of falling asleep, Mr. Grant left the cabin and entered the -saloon. Here he paused and held his hand close to the swinging lamp. - -“H’m!” he remarked in an undertone, as he examined the somewhat jagged -cut. “It’s a case of the cobbler being the worst shod, I suppose. I’m -always impressing upon the boys the absolute necessity of guarding -against blood-poisoning, and in my case it’s precept without practice. -Better late than never: I’ll smother the gash with iodine.” - -He opened the medicine-chest, found and uncorked the iodine bottle. - -“Finger’s throbbing already, I fancy,” he continued. - -“How’s your hand, sir?” asked Brandon. “Let me bind it up for you.” - -“Thought you were sound asleep, Frank,” remarked the Scoutmaster. -“Thanks awfully, if you will.” - -The Patrol Leader slipped out of his bunk and, taking the bottle, poured -a few drops into the jagged wound. The sting of the iodine made Mr. -Grant wince. - -“That ought to do the trick, sir,” continued Brandon. “I’ll put a -bandage round your hand. I wouldn’t use it if I were you; but there, you -know all about that sort of thing, sir.” - -“I’m supposed to,” admitted the Scoutmaster. “Unfortunately, when it -comes to a personal matter one is apt to let such things slide. That’s -quite comfortable. Now I’ll see what the watch on deck are doing.” - -“Do you want me, sir?” asked Brandon. “I’ll turn out, if you like. I’d -be only too pleased to.” - -“No need,” replied Mr. Grant. “Sleep while you can. I may want you when -we enter harbour, but that may be hours yet.” - -Going on deck, Mr. Grant found that the light Peter had reported was two -points on the port bow. By the nature of the flashes—one every -second—he recognised it as The Start. - -“We’re timing things very nicely,” he observed. “By the time that -light’s abeam, it will be dawn. Then we’ll have to close haul in the -first tack and get under the lee of the line. We’ll make for Dartmouth -and land our passenger. He’s just told me his name is Marner, son of old -Dick Marner.” - -“The pal of Blueskin Bone, sir?” - -“Hope not,” replied Mr. Grant, laughing. “The old man denied the -acquaintanceship. However, that’s done with; Blueskin fades out of the -picture like a bad dream.” - -Almost before the fact could be realised dawn broke. A rosy flush spread -over the north-eastern sky, revealing a turmoil of angry, grey-crested -waves, for the _Kestrel_ was only a mile or so to the south’ard of The -Start, and was feeling the effect of the weather-going tide surging over -the ledge of submerged rocks, extending from that bold and dangerous -headland. - -The yacht was rolling heavily as she ran, but her seaworthiness was now -fully established. She was making better weather of it than a vessel of -three or four times her tonnage. - -“Nor’east a quarter north, now,” ordered the Scoutmaster. “A pull on the -mainsheet, Heavitree. I’ll see to the head-sheets.” - -Craddock put the helm down. Round came the _Kestrel_ until the youthful -helmsman “met her” on the required course. She was now almost, but not -quite, close-hauled. The rolling motion gave place to a fairly steady -heel. Showers of spray flew inboard over her weather bow, while her -lee-bow wave creamed and frothed in a way that gave a fairly true -indication of the speed she was making. After running for hours the -sense of being close-hauled was unmistakably thrilling. - -“Isn’t she hopping it, eh?” exclaimed Heavitree, as he coiled down the -flake of the mainsheet. “Hello, sir! Look what you’ve done.” - -The Scoutmaster followed the direction of the Sea Scout’s glance. The -bandage on his hand was dyed red. - -“Must have opened the cut when I handled the jib-sheet,” he thought. -“Well, it’s a good thing it was covered up; no dirt can get to it.” - -“It’s nothing much,” he remarked casually. “Now, you fellows, let’s see -who has the keenest eyesight. There should be a conical buoy on our port -bow about a couple of miles off.” - -“I see it, sir!” exclaimed Heavitree almost at once. “It’s dead on with -our bowsprit-end.” - -“Is it, by Jove!” ejaculated Mr. Grant. “Up helm, Peter! At that! We’re -closer in than I thought. We might have piled the _Kestrel_ on The -Skerries. See those houses just under The Start? That’s Beesands, or -what’s left of it. Most of the village was washed away in a gale. The -fishermen there train dogs to swim out to the returning boats and swim -back with a line. It takes some doing in a rough sea. We’re in smoother -water now. Do you see that high point of land ahead, Peter? Steer for -that; never mind the compass.” - -Pointing out various places of interest ashore, Mr. Grant chatted -briskly in order to arouse the obviously flagging spirits of the two -lads. They had stuck it well during the night watches, and now they -kicked against the suggestion that they should go below to be relieved -by Brandon and Talbot. - -“Why not bother about the compass, sir?” asked Peter. - -“Because for the present it isn’t absolutely necessary,” explained Mr. -Grant. “When you’ve a fixed object to steer by, it saves the strain of -peering into the binnacle-hood. You fellows have had quite enough of -that to-night, or rather last night. Now, Heavitree, nip below and get -the stove going. Nothing like a cup of hot cocoa in the early morning -after a long trick. When it’s ready, tell Brandon to turn out. We’ll -want an extra hand if we have to beat in. This wind will head us, I -fancy, when we’re abreast the Homestone.” - -The _Kestrel_ was now so steady that Heavitree had no difficulty in -lighting the stove. In about ten minutes his tousled head appeared, -framed in the companion. - -“Cocoa’s ready, sir,” he announced, “and all the others are awake and -want cocoa too.” - -“You want me, sir?” asked Brandon, as he edged past Heavitree in the -companion. - -“Yes, please,” replied Mr. Grant. “Have your cocoa and a biscuit first, -then tell the others to get their breakfasts when they’re dressed. We -don’t want too many on deck, if we’ve to tack in. And, while you are -about it, you might hand me the chart of Dartmouth Harbour.” - -Six o’clock was striking as the _Kestrel_, at one moment heeling to the -fierce blasts that swept down from the lofty ground and at another -gliding with canvas hanging idly in a flat calm, made her way between -the twin castles of St. Petrox and Kingswear, and gained the land-locked -harbour of Dartmouth. Fortunately the first of the flood tide was -setting in, and without much difficulty the yacht gained its anchorage. - -“There’s a vacant buoy,” observed Mr. Grant, pointing to one a short -distance astern of a small tramp steamer. “We’ll pick it up. It will be -much safer than riding to a kedge. We’ll have to get another anchor some -time to-day, and the sooner the better. Now, Brandon, let’s see how you -come up to moorings.” - -Considering the Patrol Leader was as yet almost a stranger to the -_Kestrel’s_ capabilities he managed remarkably well. Judging the -distance to a nicety, he put the helm down and shot the yacht up into -the wind. Heavitree running for’ard picked up the buoy with a boat-hook, -and hauling in the buoy rope passed the mooring chain round the bitts -before the yacht had time to “fall off.” - -“Well done!” exclaimed Mr. Grant approvingly. “Down canvas! Then -breakfast and a jolly good sound sleep!” - -“Could do with both, sir,” agreed Craddock feelingly. - -But the Scoutmaster had much to do before he could enjoy an already -well-earned rest. As soon as the post-office opened he went ashore in -the dinghy and telegraphed to old Marner the news of his son’s safety. -Also he had to report the matter to the Registrar of Shipping. He then -took the opportunity of communicating with Scoutmaster Pendennis at -Falmouth, acquainting him of the fact that the _Kestrel_ had arrived at -Dartmouth under somewhat unusual conditions and expressing a hope that -even yet the _Merlin_ and the _Kestrel_ would be able to cruise in -company. - -His next business was to make arrangements with the local representative -of the Shipwrecked Mariners Aid Society, to have Dick Marner taken -ashore and sent home by train. - -Finally, he bought another anchor to replace the one lying on the bed of -Falmouth Harbour. - -He returned on board to find all the crew asleep with the exception of -Carline, who had been told off to keep anchor watch. - -“You’d better turn in, too, Carline,” said Mr. Grant. “We aren’t getting -under way to-day, and perhaps not to-morrow either. We want fair weather -for the run past Portland Bill, and, judging by this morning’s sunrise, -we aren’t going to get it just at present.” - -Going to his own cabin, Mr. Grant saw that Marner was awake. - -“Feelin’ fine, sir,” replied the man in answer to the Scoutmaster’s -enquiry. “But I’m fair hungry. That beef tea was all very well, but it -don’t fill a man’s innards, in a manner o’ speakin’, sir. Can’t I have -somethin’ as ’as got summat to bite at?” - -“I think so, now,” said Mr. Grant, smiling at the Cornishman’s quaintly -phrased request. “And a boat’s coming for you some time before noon. -You’ll be given your fare to Falmouth, and with luck you’ll be home -to-night. But you’ll have to be careful with that head of yours, and not -shake yourself up too much on your motor bike.” - -A look of bewilderment spread over the bronzed features of Dick Marner, -junior. - -“Moty bike, sir?” he rejoined. “Can’t say as I follers what you’m -meaning.” - -It was Mr. Grant’s turn to look surprised. Could it be that Marner was -suffering from partial loss of memory owing to the injury to his head? - -“Surely you remember your motor bicycle at your father’s place at -Polkebo?” - -“Never ’ad a moty bicycle in my life, sir,” was the astounding reply. -“Couldn’t ride un if I ’ad.” - -The Scoutmaster made no comment, but thought the more. Apparently the -situation required careful handling, but before he could frame a -suitable question, Dick Marner continued: - -“Now I comes to think on it, the moty cycle you seed was Blueskin -Bone’s. ’E an’ fayther are neighbours like; an’ Blueskin ain’t got no -shed in ’is garden, and ’aving trouble to get moty cycle up the girt -steps to ’is door, ’e keeps un in fayther’s shed.” - -“So that’s it,” thought Mr. Grant. “I wish I’d known that when I -interviewed Mr. Marner, senior, the sly old rascal! However, Blueskin’s -a back number as far as we are concerned. That’s something to be -thankful for.” - - - - - CHAPTER X - Blueskin’s Plot - - -The presence of the Aberstour Sea Scouts’ yacht _Kestrel_ in Dartmouth -Harbour attracted a fair amount of interest, but none more than that -shown by a tall, heavily built, and loose-jowled deck-hand on board the -S.S. _Lumberjack_. - -Leaning over the bulwark of the tramp and shading his face with his -hands, the man gazed so intently at the newly arrived yacht that one of -his shipmates was struck by his studied interest. - -“Lor’, Blueskin!” he exclaimed. “Wot’s strikin’ your fancy now? Ain’t -you never seen a crowd o’ Sea Scoutses afore?” - -Carlo Bone spat contemptuously into the scuppers. - -“Axin’ for trouble, them is,” he remarked. - -“An’ so’ll you be if the Old Man sees you hangin’ on to the slack,” -rejoined the other. “Bear a hand an’ help shift this ’ere dunnage.” - -The S.S. _Lumberjack_ was lying within a hundred yards of the mooring -which the _Kestrel_ had picked up. She had arrived a few days before, -having developed engine trouble in that antiquated box which required -all the skill and patience of a dour Scots engineer to take the old -tramp along at even a modest five knots. - -The sight of the _Kestrel_ acted like a red rag to a mad bull as far as -Blueskin Bone was concerned. The mere knowledge that had it not been for -“them Sea Scoutses” he might have become the owner of the craft never -ceased to anger him. Even when, acting upon the idea that Polkebo was -getting too hot for him, he had shipped aboard the S.S. _Lumberjack_ his -resentment did not die down; it merely smouldered, to be revived to -white heat when, quite unexpectedly, the _Kestrel_ came in with the -flood tide from the boisterous waters of the English Channel. - -“If she ain’t mine,” he muttered, “she won’t be nobody’s—not if I can -’elp it. Too mighty cute those chaps wur last time—when they thought as -I wur about. If they don’t see I, maybe they won’t be so plaguey -wideawake.” - -For the rest of his watch Blueskin spent most of the time taking furtive -glances at the _Kestrel_ and cudgelling his brains to devise some -cunning plan to gain his ends. In order to conceal himself from -observation from the _Kestrel_, he even declined to go ashore that -evening, much to his shipmates’ surprise. - -Long after the hands had turned in that night Blueskin lay awake. When -at length silence reigned in the stuffy fo’c’sle of the S.S. -_Lumberjack_, Carlo Bone slipped out of his bunk, barefooted and wearing -only a pair of canvas trousers. - -It was a pitch dark night. Heavy clouds overspread the sky. A hard blow -was raging out in the Channel, and even the land-locked waters of -Dartmouth Harbour were foam-flecked. The flood tide was on the point of -turning. In fact, all the shipping at anchor on the Kingswear side were -riding head to wind. Eighty yards or so away, the riding-light of the -_Kestrel_ see-sawed as the yacht rolled and strained at her borrowed -moorings. - -Groping about in the darkness, Blueskin soon found what he wanted: an -iron bucket to which he had previously attached a short length of -flexible steel wire. The bucket he lowered over the ship’s side by means -of a piece of spun yarn until it hung just above the surface. - -Giving a final look round to reassure himself that no one was on deck, -Blueskin lowered himself into the water. Then, casting off the lashing -that held the bucket, he struck out for the _Kestrel_, pushing the -bucket in front of him. - -Like most Cornishmen, Blueskin Bone was a powerful swimmer, and an -expert diver. It was mere child’s-play to him to swim to the yacht’s -stern, partly fill the bucket to make it float upright, and then to dive -with the free end of the flexible wire in his grasp. - -Blueskin had seen the _Kestrel_ high and dry so often that he was well -acquainted with the way in which her rudder fastenings were fixed. In -the darkness the task he had in hand presented no difficulty. Quickly he -passed the end of the wire between the rudder and the stern-post just -above the lower pintle, and came to the surface with the steel rope -still in his hand. - -His next act was to bend the end of the wire to the handle of the -bucket, so that both extremities were secured close together. The bucket -was now firmly attached to the _Kestrel’s_ rudder by the doubled parts -of the wire. - -“That’ll ’old till the crows come ’ome,” he muttered, as he tugged at -the last hitch of the rope. - -Tilting the bucket, Blueskin allowed it to fill and sink. It was now -suspended at the end of a few feet of steel wire immediately under the -yacht’s stern-post. - -Having accomplished what he had set out to do, Carlo Bone swam back to -the _Lumberjack_, swarmed up her side, removed and wrung out his -trousers, and crept back to his bunk. - -“Reckon I ain’t cried quits wi’ ’em yet,” he muttered, recalling with -mingled feelings of humiliation and anger the incident when he was -knocked out by a mere youth. “’Tany rate, I’ve done summat t’wards -gettin’ my own back. Like as not them’ll have a leadin’ wind outer ’ere -when them starts. An’ a fair tide. But when it comes tu goin’ about like -in the Range, that there bucket’ll make ’em miss stays. They’ll be fair -on the rocks afore they knows where they be.” - -There was deep cunning in Carlo Bone’s plan. He counted upon the -_Kestrel_ getting under way with a fair wind and a fair tide. The crew -would not be likely to notice that they were towing a bucket under the -stern, although the drag would be considerable. But in the Narrows, at -the entrance to the harbour, the baffling wind and the set of the tidal -current would compel the _Kestrel_ to attempt at least one tack. Then -the impediment caused by the bucket would be more than sufficient to -make her “miss stays,” and in that hopeless state she would be driven -upon the saw-edged rocks to lee’ard almost before her crew realised -their danger. - -Chuckling sardonically, Blueskin lay awake in his bunk until nearly -dawn—the dawn of a day on which, if his plans went aright, the -_Kestrel_ would ignominiously end her career upon the rock-strewn coast -of Devon. - - - - - CHAPTER XI - How it Failed - - -“All clear for’ard?” shouted Patrol Leader Brandon. “Stand by to let -go!” - -Fifty hours had elapsed since the _Kestrel_ found her way into Dartmouth -Harbour. The summer storm had blown itself out. The Sea Scouts, having -made up arrears of sleep, were in the best of spirits and keenly looking -forward to the long run across West Bay and round the famous Bill of -Portland. - -It was almost a flat calm. The tide was still ebbing. The S.S. -_Lumberjack_ remained at anchor, repairs to her machinery being still in -progress. - -According to his rule of letting the Sea Scouts work their craft as far -as possible entirely on their own responsibility, Mr. Grant was acting -in the rôle of passenger, Patrol Leader Frank Brandon being for the -present skipper of the _Kestrel_. - -“Get an oar out, Heavitree,” continued the Patrol Leader. “We’ll have to -sweep her round in this light breeze, and probably tow her clear of the -harbour. She’ll shift easily enough when once we get way on her.” - -Brandon was on the point of calling to Carline to cast off the mooring -when he noticed a small motor boat approaching, apparently with the -intention of crossing the _Kestrel’s_ bows. Instead, the owner of the -power-craft reversed, put her helm over, and ran alongside. - -“Good morning!” he exclaimed. “I see you fellows are off. Perhaps you’d -like a tow? I’m off to the East Blockstone to try a bit of fishing, so -if you like I’ll take a line.” - -“Thanks awfully, sir,” replied Brandon. “It’s jolly good of you.” - -“Not at all,” rejoined the owner of the motor boat. “Matter of fact, I -used to be a Scoutmaster. Had to give it up, unfortunately. However, I -still stick to the practice of ‘One Good Turn a Day’—more if I have a -chance. . . . Sorry, I didn’t see you,” he added, addressing Mr. Grant, -who had just come out of the saloon. “Why! Surely your name’s Grant?” - -“Quite right,” was the reply, “but somehow I can’t recall you.” - -“Possibly not,” continued the other, with a laugh. “Do you remember -coming alongside a tramp on Christmas Day ’17? You were in a M.L. and -you got some bully beef and bread out of our old hooker. At the same -time you warned us that there were two U-boats off Bolt Head, and said -we’d better leg it back to Plymouth?” - -Mr. Grant remembered the circumstance. It was during the war, when he -was in command of a M.L. - -“But I can’t recall your features,” he reiterated. - -“’Cause I am beautifully disguised with a beard,” explained the other. -“Matter of fact, we didn’t take your advice. We held on our course, and -bagged a Fritz a couple of hours later. We were a ‘Q’ ship, and you -didn’t spot us.” - -“Heard about it later on,” said Mr. Grant. “Then your name’s Carter?” - -“Just so; late Scoutmaster of the 9th Gosport Sea Scouts. Unfortunately, -‘owing to the War,’ I had to give up, much to my regret, and settle down -here at Kingswear. Come aboard, and we can yarn while I’m towing your -craft out of the harbour.” - -Mr. Grant accepted the invitation, leaving Brandon actually in command -of the _Kestrel_. - -The tow-rope was made fast, the moorings slipped. Very gently, by -skilful use of the reverse gear, Mr. Carter allowed the yacht to gather -way in the wake of the 4-h.p. motor boat. - -During the run down the harbour, Brandon kept all hands busily employed -in casting loose mainsail and mizzen and hoisting the jib in stops ready -to be broken out directly the _Kestrel_ was cast off. Thus engaged they -failed to notice the relatively slow progress or the somewhat unusual -swirl under the yacht’s stern. Nor were they aware of the presence of a -highly exasperated deck-hand on board the S.S. _Lumberjack_, who -consoled himself for the preliminary failure of his plans by the thought -that perhaps the motor boat would not tow the _Kestrel_ right out to -sea, but only just clear of St. Petrox. In that case there was still -some hope that the yacht would pile herself up upon the tide-swept -Verticals or perhaps the rugged Mewstone. - -“You’ve a lump of a craft there, Grant,” remarked Mr. Carter. “She’s -heavier to tow than I thought; although this packet is only a four-horse -motor boat.” - -“Yet she’s moving her all right,” added Mr. Grant. - -“Yes, with the tide. I doubt whether we are doing three knots. Has the -_Kestrel’s_ compo. been scrubbed recently?” - -“Fresh on a week ago,” declared the Scoutmaster. - -“H’m,” commented Mr. Carter, “strange we aren’t doing better. A few days -ago I gave a forty tonner a pluck in, and made quite easy work of it -once I got her going. There’s the East Blackstone”—pointing to an -isolated rock about half a mile away. “I’ll tow you inside the rock. -There’s plenty of water and less tide running. You’re early yet for the -up-Channel stream, but with the breeze you’ll stem the tide all right.” - -At the East Blackstone the tow-rope was cast off. Mr. Grant regained the -_Kestrel_, and the crew gave a hearty cheer for the benefit of the -ex-Scoutmaster. Sail was quickly made, and under all plain canvas the -_Kestrel_ was steadied on her course for Portland Bill. - -Half an hour passed. The anchored motor boat was still unaccountably -near. The _Kestrel_, in spite of the steady favourable breeze, was not -going anything like as fast as she had done in a lighter wind. - -The Sea Scouts began to realise the fact and reluctantly they admitted -that it was so. Even the dinghy’s painter was slack, whereas in this -breeze the water ought to be foaming at her bows. - -“We are going slowly, sir,” remarked Craddock. - -“That’s what Mr. Carter said,” replied the Scoutmaster. “There’s no -reason why we should as far as I can see, unless we’ve fouled a few -lobster pots. Look over the bows and see.” - -Peter went for’ard and “laid out” along the bowsprit. He could see the -yacht’s forefoot showing clearly through the pale green water. - -“All clear there, sir,” he reported. - -“I don’t see how anything could foul her rudder,” observed Mr. Grant. -“The keel band projects sufficiently to prevent that; however, just look -to make sure.” - -Craddock did so. - -“Why!” he exclaimed. “There’s something dragging astern. I can’t make -out what it is, ’cause the wake is bubbling so much. Pass me the -boat-hook, Talbot.” - -Lying at full length on the stern deck, Peter probed with the iron-shod -boat-hook. Metal rasped on metal, and on attempting to withdraw the -boat-hook the Sea Scout found that it was hitched in a line of some -sort. - -“Bear a hand, some of you fellows!” he called out breathlessly. - -Talbot and Symington came to his assistance. All three hauled and -levered at the stout ash boat-hook stave. - -“Can’t get in another inch,” declared Talbot. - -“Sure you’re not foul of the rudder?” asked Mr. Grant. - -“No, sir, it’s astern of the rudder, whatever it is.” - -“Now, Brandon, you’re in charge,” said the Scoutmaster. “Carry on and -see what you can do.” - -The Patrol Leader began throwing off his scanty clothing. - -“Down helm!” he ordered. “Jib and staysail sheets a-weather!” - -It took three attempts to get the _Kestrel_ to come up into the wind so -that she might be hove-to. As sluggish as a mule, she absolutely refused -to go about until Carline and Wilson got her round by means of a sweep. -Then Craddock prodded with the boat-hook, and this time found nothing -more resisting than water. - -“Whatever it is it has slipped off,” he announced. - -“I’ll make sure, in any case,” declared Brandon. - -The Patrol Leader made a clean dive, broke surface, and swam to the -yacht’s stern. Then, taking a deep breath, he grasped the edge of the -rudder and lowered himself towards the _Kestrel’s_ heel. - -He was under for nearly half a minute; then he reappeared, puffing and -blowing like a grampus. - -“There’s a large iron bucket hanging from the lower pintle,” he -reported. “I tried to shake it clear, but it’s made fast by about a -couple of yards of wire rope.” - -“See if you can work the free end of the wire past the stern-post,” -suggested Craddock. “I’ll put the helm hard over and see if that frees -it.” - -“There is no free end,” was the astonishing reply. “Both ends are -tightly knotted round the handle of the bucket.” - -All hands realised that the obstruction had not been placed there by -accident or natural causes. Human agency had been deliberately at work. - -“No use arguing about it, lads!” called out Brandon. “Pass me the -hack-saw.” - -“One minute, I’ll be with you, Frank,” said Craddock, proceeding to -strip. “It’s not much use sawing at a slack wire. Get a line, Talbot. -That’s right. Now, Frank, can you pass this under the handle of the -bucket? You can? Good. Now, you fellows, take a strain; put plenty of -beef into it and keep the rope taut.” - -Craddock then went overboard and swam to give his chum a hand. They -found that the strain on the rope had brought the bucket within five or -six inches of the surface, and that the wire was as taut as a bar of -iron. - -“Wouldn’t it be easier and quicker to saw through the handle?” asked -Craddock. - -“Yes, but we won’t,” decided the Patrol Leader. “Why spoil what seems to -be a jolly decent bucket?” - -“Well, I’ve kicked the bucket,” declared Peter feelingly. - -A roar of laughter greeted this apparently innocent remark. Craddock, -failing to grasp the grim significance of the words, couldn’t imagine -why his chums should roar because he had stubbed his toe against the -submerged article. - -Taking turns to use the hack-saw, the two lads set to work -energetically. True they broke a couple of blades—mishaps that, owing -to the erratic motion of the yacht and their unstable position, were not -to be wondered at—but at length the tautened wire parted. The bucket -was hauled in deck while Brandon, who believed in doing a good job -thoroughly, extricated the stranded wire rope from the narrow gap -between the rudder and the stern-post. - -“Dirty dogs, whoever they are,” commented the Patrol Leader, after he -had hauled himself clear of the water. - -“Here’s a clue, anyway,” exclaimed Heavitree. - -He pointed to the somewhat dented side of the bucket. On it could be -traced the partly obliterated letters in black paint. . . . UM . . . -R.J. . . .K. - -“_Lumberjack!_” announced Craddock. “That’s the name of the tramp lying -next to us at Dartmouth.” - -“Why should any of her crew want to play a joke on us, I wonder?” -enquired Carline. “Couldn’t you write to the owners and find out the -names of the crew, sir? That might explain matters.” - -“I am thinking seriously of doing so,” replied Mr. Grant. “There may be -more in this business than we know. It’s not merely a practical joke; -had we been compelled to tack out of harbour the result might easily -have been disastrous. Now, Brandon! Get way on her again. She ought to -slip along in a nice breeze like this; and Portland’s still a long way -off.” - -With that the Scoutmaster went below. - - - - - CHAPTER XII - Out of Action - - -Mr. Grant went to his cabin for a very serious reason. His hand was -rapidly swelling. The slight cut he had received when he rescued young -Marner from the sinking schooner had resulted in an undoubted case of -blood-poisoning. He, who was prone to boast of his immunity from that -sort of thing, had at last fallen a victim to the dangerous malady. - -For some time he had suspected it. He ought to have gone ashore at -Dartmouth and seen a doctor. He would have done but for the fear that he -might be ordered to lay up. In that case, the voyage of the _Kestrel_ -would have been indefinitely prolonged—long after the forthcoming -Jamboree was over. Although Brandon was quite a capable fellow, he held -no warrant, without which Sea Scouts are not permitted to go afloat; and -it was doubtful whether a fully qualified man could be found to -undertake the duties of temporary Scoutmaster. - -So, rather than spoil the lads’ chance of taking part in the Chichester -Harbour Jamboree, Mr. Grant risked his own. - -He had had a restless night. Almost hourly he had crept softly from his -bunk lest he should disturb the rest of the crew, and had held the -injured hand in very warm water. But all to no seeming purpose. The -middle finger was swelling badly, and, what was ominous, sharp, stabbing -pains were running up his arm. Curiously, the cut at the base of the -fingers appeared to be healing, while the swelling was most pronounced -on the knuckle of the same digit. - -As he kept his hand in the hot water, Mr. Grant’s thoughts turned to the -incident of the bucket. It seemed strange indeed that already the maiden -cruise of the _Kestrel_ should be marked by three distinct—or -apparently distinct—attempts to bring her to disaster. But were they -distinct? Could it be that Blueskin Bone was the instigator of all -three? Dick Marner’s innocent admission that his father and Carlo Bone -were more than neighbours, coupled with the discovery that Marner -senior’s story of the motor bicycle was a deliberate falsehood, tended -to shake Mr. Grant’s previous belief in Blueskin’s innocence in the -attempt at arson. Carlo Bone had gone to sea. Was it beyond the bounds -of coincidence that he was one of the crew of the S.S. _Lumberjack_? - -He went on thinking and thinking. Presently, in a hazy sort of way, he -became aware that his thoughts were ridiculously disjointed and absurd. -The pain in his arm seemed to be subsiding, but in its stead he felt -uncomfortably hot. His head was buzzing. Grey lights danced in front of -his eyes. - -Then Mr. Grant did something he had never done before in his life. He -fainted. - -A few minutes later Peter Craddock, who was making his way to the -fo’c’sle, found his Scoutmaster lying inertly across the raised coaming -of his cabin doorway. - -Checking his first impulse to alarm the rest of the crew, Peter lifted -the unconscious form and carried it into the saloon. Here, with very -little effort, the Sea Scout lifted Mr. Grant on the lee’ard settee; -then, going to the companion way, asked Heavitree in a matter-of-fact -voice to step below. - -“Don’t say anything to the other chaps,” cautioned Peter, when his chum -came below. “Mr. Grant’s fainted. I found him lying in the doorway. Get -some sal volatile and a basin of cold water while I loosen his collar.” - -“What made him faint?” asked Heavitree, as he carried out Craddock’s -instructions. - -“Don’t know,” replied Peter. “It’s not concussion.” - -“His finger, perhaps?” - -“Rot!” ejaculated the lad contemptuously. Then he caught sight of the -badly swollen hand. “By Jove! Believe you’re right, old son. I knew he -had a nasty gash, but I never knew it was as bad as this. Skylight’s -open: you might open all the scuttles. The more fresh air the better.” - -Presently Mr. Grant opened his eyes and looked dazedly at his youthful -attendants. - -“Where am I?” he asked. - -“You’re all right, sir,” replied Peter reassuringly. “Heavitree and I -are looking after you. Lie still a little longer.” - -The Scoutmaster did so. The ghastly greyish hue on his features was -giving place to the glow of returning vitality. His thoughts were again -becoming coherent, yet he felt a curious sense of resentment at being -ordered to remain quiet. - -With returning consciousness came the agonising throb of his swollen -arm. His hand was trailing over the side of the settee. It felt like -lead. He was hardly able to raise it. - -“Silly of me to have gone off like that,” he soliloquised. “Well, that’s -put me out of the running for a bit. Hang it all—no! What am I thinking -about?” - -A vision of the _Kestrel_ with her youthful crew flashed across his -mind. So far all was going well. The sea was calm, the weather fine. -Brandon knew the course, but would he be able to take the yacht into -port? - -“I’ll go on deck now,” he declared. - -“No, you won’t, sir,” countered Craddock firmly. “You aren’t fit to go. -Wait till we’ve done something to that hand of yours. You’ll only make -it worse if you bang it against something. I’ll dress it for you. Does -it hurt much?” - -“A little,” admitted Mr. Grant deprecatingly, for the pain was now -intense. Possibly in his fall he had jarred the already badly swollen -limb. - -Peter went for’ard to boil some water and make a bread poultice. While -the water was being heated he went on deck to tell Brandon and the -others of what had occurred. - -He found Talbot at the helm. Symington and Wilson were trying with -varying success to induce Molly to sit up and beg. The pup was willing -enough, but the gentle motion of the yacht was too much for her. Also -she had a not unfounded suspicion that the cat rescued from the -_Euterpe_—young Marner had emphatically declined to take it with -him—was secretly helping herself to the pup’s bowl of milk. - -“Where’s Brandon?” asked Peter. - -“Up aloft,” replied Talbot, glancing at the cross-trees. - -“I’ll be down in half a shake, old son!” called out the Patrol Leader. -“I’ve been trying to sight Portland Bill. It’s too far off yet.” - -Craddock swept the horizon. Right astern and on the port quarter the red -hills of Devon were merging into the mist of a hot summer’s day. Broad -on the port beam, where the chalk cliffs make their first appearance on -the south shores of England, land was no longer visible. Neither was it -ahead. To starboard, Peter knew, was the broad expanse of the English -Channel. For the first time in his life, Craddock was about to find -himself out of sight of land. With the exception of Brandon, the other -Sea Scouts were to have a similar experience: afloat with an unbroken -horizon of sea and sky forming a complete circle of which the little -_Kestrel_ formed the exact centre. It was true that they had been out of -sight of land during the fog, but that wasn’t the same thing. Had there -been no fog they would have seen the rugged Cornish coast the whole -time. Now, even in the clearest weather, they would probably be an hour -or more out of sight of land until the wedge-shaped promontory of -Portland showed up on the port bow. - -Even as Craddock looked, a strange, muffled voice exclaimed: - -“Isn’t it quite about time you fellows liberated me from this -uncomfortable apartment?” - - - - - CHAPTER XIII - The Stowaway - - -For a few moments, Peter Craddock could hardly believe his sense of -hearing. Wilson and Symington were also too astonished for words. They -could only abandon their efforts to teach the pup tricks and gaze -blankly at Craddock’s face. The first conclusion they arrived at was -that Peter was indulging in a little ventriloquism at their expense. - -Craddock, too, tried to “fix” the owner of the voice. With the exception -of Heavitree the others were on deck. Carline was for’ard, lying in -luxurious ease and basking in the sunshine on the fore-deck. Brandon was -still aloft; Talbot at the helm; Symington and Wilson in the cockpit. - -“Kindly open the door!” exclaimed the voice again. This time there was a -violent rapping on the panel of one of the side lockers in the cockpit. - -The locker was a fairly spacious one, extending from the after bulkhead -of the cabin on the starboard side to the bulkhead supporting the -decked-in part of the stern. Usually it contained spare sails, canvas -awnings, and warps not likely to be frequently required. It was secured -by means of a detachable panel held in place by two projecting battens -at one end and a stout wooden button at the other. - -“Brandon!” sang out Peter. - -“Coming,” replied the Patrol Leader. “What’s wrong?” - -Swinging himself down by the throat halliards, Brandon gained the deck -and came aft. - -“Someone’s in there,” declared Craddock. - -“Then hike him out,” rejoined Brandon in matter-of-fact tones. “This -isn’t the First of April, me lad!” - -“I quite agree,” boomed the voice from the locker. - -Brandon gave a start, but quickly recovering himself, threw open the -panel. Lying full length on the assortment of canvas gear and blinking -in the strong sunlight was a boy of about twelve or fourteen. - -“Come out!” ordered Brandon sternly. - -“Precisely what I’ve been wanting to do for the last five minutes,” -replied the youth, with astonishing coolness. “Just wait until I have -collected my scanty belongings and your request will be complied with.” - -“Well, I never——” ejaculated the Patrol Leader. - -“Don’t distress yourself,” continued the boy. “Wait until I am in a -position to offer an explanation. My limbs, I find, are somewhat -cramped.” - -With the utmost deliberation the stowaway emerged and stood upright in -the cockpit with the Sea Scouts still too astonished to say much, -hemming him in on three sides. - -He was a pale-faced, sharp-featured lad of medium height and sparely -built. The most noticeable feature about him was a high and prominent -forehead. He was dressed in a tightly fitting suit of grey tweed and an -Eton collar, his thin, bony wrists projecting quite three inches beyond -his coat sleeves. Under one arm he held a schoolboy’s satchel, from -which protruded a glass-stoppered bottle. - -“You hid yourself on board?” began Brandon. - -“Your surmise is a perfectly correct one,” agreed this remarkable youth, -with a grave smile. “In the circumstances I had no option. Had I asked -to be allowed to accompany you, my request would have been refused. As -it is, I’m here.” - -“A stowaway!” exclaimed the Patrol Leader. “You deserve a booting.” - -The boy made a deprecatory movement with his hand. - -“Believe me, it isn’t done,” he rejoined. “Personal violence to -stowaways is, I take it, an obsolete practice that has shared the same -fate as walking the plank and keel-hauling. At least, I hope I am not -misinformed. . . . I say, what a jolly little pup!” - -“Never mind the pup,” protested Brandon. “Tell me what you are doing on -board.” - -“Enjoying—or expecting to enjoy—a free journey to Chichester. The -chances are I shall. You can’t very well go back to Dartmouth; you can’t -put me overboard. So it seems as if I remain here a while, and I’ve -brought my provisions!” - -“I’ll see what Mr. Grant has to say,” decided Brandon, who had never -before come in contact with such a self-possessed and precocious -youngster. - -“One minute,” interrupted Peter, drawing his chum aside. “Come for’ard.” - -Craddock and Brandon made their way to the fore-deck, where Carline was -slumbering in ignorance of what had occurred. - -“Mr. Grant fainted just now,” reported Peter. “Heavitree’s with him. I -fancy it’s his hand that made him go off. It’s a case of -blood-poisoning, I’m afraid. I was boiling some water to make a poultice -when this happened. I vote we say nothing to Mr. Grant until he’s had a -good rest, but I leave it to you. You’re skipper.” - -“Right-o!” agreed Brandon. “Where is he? In his cabin?” - -“No, on one of the settees in the saloon.” - -“Then carry on, old son. I’ll tell the others to keep clear a bit and -not to disturb him. You can manage all right?” - -Peter went below. He found that the Scoutmaster was nearly asleep and -that the water was boiling. It seemed an unpleasant duty to have to -rouse the patient, but it had to be done. - -The poultice was made and applied. It was a very hot one, and Mr. Grant -winced; but in a few minutes the warmth began to act soothingly upon the -fiercely throbbing finger. - -“That’s ever so much better, Peter,” remarked Mr. Grant gratefully. - -“Good business, sir,” rejoined the Sea Scout. “Now, try and go to -sleep.” - -“Not much doubt about that,” said the patient. “I’ll try a couple of -hours’ sleep. Tell Brandon to inform me when Portland Bill is in sight. -It ought to show up one point on our port bow.” - -“Very good, sir.” - -As he was leaving the cabin, Peter signed to Heavitree. - -“I’ll send Wilson down to relieve you,” he said. “There’ll have to be -someone in the saloon in case Mr. Grant wants anything. Give an eye to -the kettle before you come on deck, and bring some grub with you. We’ll -have dinner on deck, then we won’t disturb him.” - -Peter found the stowaway still hemmed in by the justifiably inquisitive -Sea Scouts. The boy had dropped much of his stiffness of manner and -seemed more at ease, although he retained his quaint method of speech. -Possibly he had been nervous and had concealed his anxiety under a mask -of forced self-assurance. Now, finding that the youthful crew of the -_Kestrel_ were not in any way antagonistic, he was becoming quite -communicative. - -His name, he told them, was Eric Little. He made the statement somewhat -doubtfully, fearing, perhaps, that his audience would “pull his leg” -over that once well-known book: “Eric, or Little by Little.” He had had -quite enough of that already. Fortunately his fears in that respect were -ill-founded, for the work in question had mercifully not been brought to -the notice of the Aberstour Sea Scouts. - -Eric’s parents were dead. He had been “brought up” by his grandparents -who lived on the outskirts of Dartmouth. Apparently they had weird and -misguided notions as to how their grandchild should be brought up. They -had a strange antipathy to schoolmasters. They absolutely declined to -let Eric go to school or to associate with other children. His -education, if such it could be called, was imparted by a half-baked -governess of uncertain age and of a frigid and ultra-prim manner. The -natural result was that Eric, invariably in the company of grown-ups, -had developed the pedantic manner of speech that had so greatly -astonished Brandon and his companions. He was well versed in several -serious subjects, but his knowledge of the ways of boys of his own age -was lamentably weak. In spite of himself, he was fast developing into a -little prig, and if compelled to run in the same rut he would be an -object of derision and scorn when the time came for him to go out into -the world. - -Luckily for him, although he did not know it, his uninvited presence on -board the _Kestrel_ was to be the making of him. - -He had no idea of running away from his overkind and misguided -grandparents. He merely wanted a change. Somewhere in the neighbourhood -of Chichester he had an aunt and uncle. He had never seen them, and -beyond receiving presents from them at Christmas and on his birthday he -was hardly aware of their existence. Yet he felt a vague longing to -visit them, and although he had hinted of his wish in that direction, -his grandparents had for some unexplained reason declined to allow him -to do so. - -Eric had exercised considerable intelligence in making a bid for a free -journey to Chichester. Quite by chance he had been standing under the -Butterwalk when Craddock and Talbot were talking with some members of a -Dartmouth troop of Scouts. He gathered that the two former were going to -Chichester Harbour in a yacht for the Jamboree. What the word “Jamboree” -meant he knew not. It sounded like something jolly. At any rate, -opportunity was knocking at the door of his warped little mind, and -there and then he made up his mind to stow himself away on board the -_Kestrel_. - -Acting upon his grandfather’s oft-repeated precept that “There is no -time like the present,” Eric got busy. He had a few shillings with him. -This he invested in a supply of food and a couple of bottles of -ginger-beer. He knew that all the crew of the _Kestrel_ were ashore; -Craddock had mentioned that there were eight including a Scoutmaster, -and eight had certainly landed at the steps close to the boat pond. For -the sum of one shilling a weedy youth minding a yacht’s dinghy agreed to -row him off to the _Kestrel_, and there he hid himself in the locker, -hoping that the yacht would put to sea that evening—which she did not. - -“What did you do with yourself all night?” asked Brandon. - -“Oh, when you were all asleep I emerged from my place of concealment for -fresh air and in order to stretch my cramped limbs,” explained the -stowaway. “Once that pup of yours growled, but I don’t think it was on -my account. That was when a certain person swam off to the yacht from -the large ship at anchor.” - -“Someone swam off!” exclaimed Craddock. “What did he do? Why didn’t you -raise the alarm?” - -Eric turned reproachful eyes upon his questioner. - -“My dear sir,” he replied. “It couldn’t be done! It couldn’t really. -Consider my position. I really had no right to be on board. Neither, -presumably, had the swimmer to climb up over the side. After all’s said -and done, it wasn’t my affair, was it?” - -“That was the chap who lashed the bucket to the rudder,” declared the -Patrol Leader. “What sort of fellow was he?” - -“I gathered that he did so from subsequent happenings,” rejoined Eric. -“Regarding your question, I’m sorry to inform you that I had no -opportunity of studying his features. Nocturnal conditions and a natural -desire to efface myself combined to keep me in ignorance of the man’s -appearance. But here I am,” he added briskly, “willing to acquire as -much nautical knowledge as my mental appetite will digest. Which, by the -by, is the main brace?” - -He cocked his eye aloft at the expanse of tautened canvas, and then -looked at Brandon enquiringly. - -“No use, my lad,” replied the Patrol Leader. “You won’t find a brace -aboard this craft. Sea Scouts favour belts, you know. Now, lads! Dinner! -We’re behind time.” - -The meal was duly relished and dispatched, the stowaway receiving a -share as a matter of course. “Washing-up,” a distasteful yet necessary -operation, was completed, the plates and other utensils being -temporarily stowed in one of the cockpit lockers in order that Mr. Grant -would not be disturbed had the gear been returned to its usual place. - -By this time the wind had fallen light and was almost dead aft. Land was -still visible; only an expanse of smooth sea rippled by erratic catspaws -greeted the sight of the crew. - -“Can’t we hoist the topsail?” asked Heavitree. - -“No,” replied Brandon decidedly, “we can’t. Scoutmaster’s orders are -that the topsail is not to be set without his permission. But we can -hoist the spinnaker,” he added. “That’ll help us along.” - -The spinnaker, a large triangular sail of light canvas, was spread by -being hoisted by a halliard to the mainmast head, the tack being secured -to the mast below the gooseneck, while the third corner of the sail was -hauled out to the extremity of a horizontal spar known as the spinnaker -boom. The latter was held by means of a sheet, but in order to prevent -any tendency on the part of the boom to swing back, it was secured on -the free side of the sail by means of a rope called a “guy.” The duty of -“manning the guy” was deputed to Fred Heavitree. - -“All ready, there?” sung out Brandon. - -“Ay, ay, sir!” replied Craddock. - -“Up with her, then! Out out-haul! Check your sheet!” ordered the Patrol -Leader. - -Craddock and Talbot at the halliard whipped the head of the canvas -aloft. Simultaneously, Wilson tailed on to the out-haul. The spinnaker, -distended by the light breeze, strained at the sheet; then, without -warning, dropped from aloft in shivering folds. Unaccountably the -halliard had parted, letting the spinnaker down with a run. - -There was a heavy splash. Heavitree, enveloped by the canvas, had been -jerked into the sea. - -“Man overboard!” shouted Craddock. “Down helm, Carline!” - -The helmsman put the tiller hard over. Peter, snatching up a life-buoy, -prepared to throw it within easy reach of the Sea Scout in the ditch. -The others, abandoning the spinnaker, rushed aft to bring the dinghy -alongside to pick up their chum. - -Alertly, Craddock watched the curving line of ripples astern as the -_Kestrel_ came up into the line. There was no sign of Heavitree. The lad -was an excellent swimmer, but there was the likelihood that he had hit -the rail as he fell and had been rendered insensible. - -Full thirty long-drawn-out seconds passed, but still no sign of -Heavitree. Peter looked at Brandon. The Patrol Leader shook his head. - -He was outwardly cool and collected; yet the disappearance of Heavitree -without a trace filled him with apprehension. Even a stunned man under -water would be expelling air from his lungs and the bubbles would show -on the surface. The difficulty was that already the yacht had covered -fifty or more yards since the time the accident had occurred, and in -consequence it was futile to attempt to dive after the lad. And yet it -was agonising having to stand and watch and yet do nothing. - -The _Kestrel_ was now hove-to on to the port tack, her head-sheets, -which had not been eased, being taut to wind’ard. The folds of the -spinnaker hung idly over the starboard side between the shrouds and the -forestay. - -With one exception everyone was looking astern. The exception was Eric -Little. Unnoticed by the others he crept cautiously for’ard and began to -gather in the trailing canvas. Hanging on to the rail was the missing -Heavitree, breathless but otherwise none the worse for his immersion. He -had managed to grasp the coaming as he fell, although he was immersed up -to his waist. The spinnaker, completely enveloping him, had effectually -hidden him from view. - -Willing hands assisted Heavitree on deck. The Sea Scouts relieved their -pent-up feelings with a rousing cheer, the noise of which brought Mr. -Grant hurriedly on deck. - -“What’s the matter, lads?” he demanded anxiously, as he blinked in the -strong sunlight. Coming straight from the darkened saloon he could see -little or nothing. “Why are we hove-to?” - -“I fell into the ditch, sir,” replied Heavitree. “Or, nearly. How’s your -hand, sir? Mind you don’t hit it against anything.” - -“Better go below, sir,” suggested Brandon. “We haven’t sighted Portland -Bill yet. I’ll report to you when we do.” - -There was a decided streak of obstinacy in Mr. Grant’s nature and -occasionally it asserted itself. It did now. - -He sat down, still blinking. By this time his eyes were becoming more -accustomed to the sunlight. He noticed the untidily stowed spinnaker, -then he spotted Eric Little. - -“Who’s that, Brandon?” he asked. “What is that lad doing here? How did -he come aboard?” - -“Our prize stowaway,” replied the Patrol Leader. - - - - - CHAPTER XIV - The Peril of the Race - - -Late in the afternoon the long-looked-for Portland Bill was sighted—not -on the port bow, but dead ahead. Apparently in the light air the -_Kestrel_ had been carried by an indraught slightly to the nor’ard of -her proper course. Progress had been slow, and in consequence she had -lost her tide and was now making very little against the west-going -stream. - -“It will mean another night at sea, lads,” remarked Mr. Grant, when the -Patrol Leader had reported land in sight. “It will be quite five hours -before we pick up a fair tide, and then, unless the wind holds, we’ll -have to be jolly careful we aren’t swept into Portland Race.” - -“Let me know the course, sir, and I’ll see she keeps to it,” declared -Brandon. “There’s no need for you to do anything. How’s your hand now, -sir?” - -“Better,” replied the Scoutmaster, although he knew perfectly well that -it was far from being right. “I’ll turn out at sunset.” - -“You oughtn’t to, really, sir,” protested Brandon. “Take it easy -to-night. If anything unusual occurs we’ll give you a call.” - -Mr. Grant capitulated. He was still feeling “a bit shaky.” The finger, -thanks to action of numerous poultices, had swollen still more, but -there were no indications of the poison discharging itself. In these -circumstances, an accidental knock or blow might easily undo all the -good that had been done by fomentation. In addition, the Scoutmaster -“had a temperature,” although he kept this knowledge to himself, hoping -that in a few hours’ time it would return to normal. - -“What are we going to do with our stowaway, sir?” asked Brandon. - -“Send him home from the first place we touch at,” replied Mr. Grant. -“It’s unfortunate we cannot signal. His grandparents must be very -anxious about him; but we can send a wire from Swanage.” - -“He’s a queer sort of fellow, isn’t he?” remarked Brandon. - -“Yes, but it’s hardly his fault. It’s the way he’s been brought up,” -replied the Scoutmaster. “He uses those somewhat high-brow expressions -quite naturally, because he’s lived in an atmosphere in which they are -spoken. After all, it’s the same with everyone. A stable boy -unconsciously uses racing slang because he hears it all around him. A -sailor’s expressions are often unintelligible to landsmen, although his -messmates haven’t the slightest difficulty in understanding what he -says. Often we were at a loss to know what the Cornish fisherfolk were -saying. Eric Little’s case is much the same, only in a very much smaller -environment. Well, right-o, Brandon. Carry on, if you will. See that all -hands get a decent meal, then pick your watch and let the rest turn in.” - -Alive to his responsibilities, Brandon went on deck, ordered the -spinnaker to be taken in, and set the _Kestrel_ on her new course. He, -too, realised the dangers of being becalmed at night in the vicinity of -that dangerous expanse of turbulent water known as Portland Race. - -Night came on. The yacht, moving slowly through the calm water, was -steadily losing ground. Although she was pointing seawards, the strong -tide was sweeping her back. The Bill appeared to be receding, but there -was no likelihood of losing sight of the powerful high light on that -famous promontory. With the turn of the tide the leeway would be quickly -made up, but there was the risk of the _Kestrel_ being carried through -the Race before she could gain a sufficient offing to pass it to the -south’ard. - -At ten o’clock Mr. Grant came on deck to look round. It was a perfectly -calm night and the shoreward lights showed up distinctly. - -“We’re still rather close in,” he remarked. “Those are the lights of -Lyme Regis, and more to the east’ard are those of Bridport. I wish we -had had time to visit Bridport. It’s a picturesque little place. There -used to be a quaint expression: ‘Struck with a Bridport dagger.’ Does -anyone know what that means?” - -There was silence for a few moments; but before Mr. Grant could explain, -Eric Little replied: - -“I believe I know: it is a colloquial expression signifying that a -person has been hanged.” - -“Quite right!” exclaimed Mr. Grant approvingly. “Bridport was noted for -rope-making, and also for sailcloth. Now I’ll tell you something more, -and I wonder if you can explain the reason for it. Years ago when the -rope and sailcloth industry was at its height most of the flax was -brought to Bridport in Russian vessels. They used to send the stuff up -to the town in boats. On Saturday nights the Russians made a point of -going into the town, which is some distance from the harbour. The road -between the two places was lighted with oil lamps. Every time the -Russians returned to their ships these lamps were afterwards found to be -extinguished. Why?” - -Several suggestions were forthcoming, but at each of them Mr. Grant -shook his head. - -“The Russian sailors drank the oil,” he explained. “In those days the -lamps were filled with whale-oil, and that was evidently a liquid -appreciated by the Muscovites. . . . Now, Brandon, send the watch below -down. I’ll turn in, since the skipper insists; but call me at once, if -necessary. Good night!” - -Retaining Heavitree as a deck-hand, Brandon prepared for his long vigil. -The wind showed no indication of appearing. The sea was as smooth as -glass, save for the occasional ripples caused by a fish “breaking -surface.” For the next two hours the _Kestrel_ was left to her own -devices, drifting idly, with the dinghy frequently ranging up alongside -as she swung through all the points of the compass. - -At midnight a faint haze obscured the bright light of Portland, which -was now about twelve miles away. Before the light disappeared, Brandon -took a compass-bearing and noted it in the log. Then he resumed his -tedious watch. - -“Four bells!” he announced at length, stirring the torpid Heavitree with -his foot. “You turn in, now, old son, and tell Peter to come on watch.” - -“Where are we?” asked Craddock, as he gained the cockpit. - -Brandon told him, adding the information that the flood tide had now set -in. - -“Haven’t touched the tiller for the last four hours,” he remarked. -“We’re just drifting. This is where a motor would come in handy. Well, -thank goodness, this isn’t the Doldrums, and we ought to get a breeze -soon.” - -At length came that “darkest hour before the dawn,” when human vitality -is supposed to be at its lowest ebb. Through the stillness of the night -came a low rumble. - -“What’s that?” asked Peter. “Thunder?” - -“Don’t think so,” replied his chum. “It’s too prolonged.” - -They listened. The sound continued and seemed to increase in volume -until it reached a distinct rumbling roar. - -“It must be the Race,” declared Brandon. “Of course it’s still a long -way off, but we’re being carried into it.” - -“What’s to be done?” asked Peter. “Anchor?” - -“No use attempting to anchor in over twenty fathoms,” replied the Patrol -Leader. “Let’s get the sweeps to work. It will be something to do, and -we may get her well clear with an hour’s steady work. Gently with them; -don’t disturb the other fellows.” - -Carefully the long ash sweeps were placed in the rowlocks, and by means -of steady strokes the _Kestrel_ was brought round until the yacht’s bows -pointed sou’-sou’-east. The dinghy’s painter no longer trailed in the -water as the little boat followed sedately in the wake of her parent. - -Again the beams of the high light of Portland pierced the darkness, this -time broad on the port beam. The roar of the Race steadily increased. - -“Don’t think we’ll clear it,” muttered Brandon breathlessly, for -sweeping the yacht was heavy and tiring work. - -“I wish it were day,” rejoined Peter. “Then we could see where we are. -How far are we from the Race, do you think?” - -“Quite near enough,” admitted the Patrol Leader. “You’d better inform -Mr. Grant and turn out a couple of hands to man the dinghy. We might be -able to tow the yacht as well as sweep her.” - -Craddock found the Scoutmaster awake. In fact, Mr. Grant had hardly -slept at all. Apart from the still painful state of his arm his anxiety -as to what might happen on the turn of the tide had kept him awake. He -realised the danger. All along that dangerous coast there is no harbour -for which a vessel can make for shelter except at or about the time of -high water. True, there is a smooth passage between the Race and the -Bill, but even then a stranger is apt to get into difficulties and be -swept into the dangerous overfalls unless he times the attempt at a -favourable state of the tide. - -Mr. Grant came on deck. - -“You’ve done all you can, Brandon,” he remarked. “We may be able to tow -her clear. Get the other fellows out and see that the forehatch and -skylights are well secured. We’ll be having plenty of green water over -our decks before very long, I fancy.” - -Craddock was about to haul the dinghy alongside, when he caught sight of -the steaming-lights of a vessel on the starboard quarter. She was, he -judged, about a quarter of a mile away and heading straight for the -_Kestrel_. Above the distant roar of the Race could be distinguished the -steady pulsations of a marine motor. - -“Show a stern light,” ordered Brandon. “She won’t be able to see our -starboard light.” - -Talbot produced a torch and held it pointing in the direction of the -oncoming vessel. Suddenly a succession of “E’s” in Morse flashed from -the stranger; then, after a brief pause, came the question, “What ship -is that?” - -“_Kestrel!_” signalled Talbot in reply. - -“I hope they’ll be the wiser for that,” remarked Carline. - -Then, to the astonishment of all on board, the approaching craft -announced her identity as the _Merlin_, and followed up by asking -whether the _Kestrel_ wanted a tow. - -“Yes, badly,” was the reply. - -In a few minutes the Falmouth Sea Scouts’ yacht was alongside. - -“So we’ve overhauled you,” remarked Scoutmaster Pendennis. “We wondered -what had happened. What made you put to sea in a fog?” - -“Didn’t you get our wire?” countered Mr. Grant. “But explanations can -come later. You’ve arrived at a very opportune moment.” - -“And how’s that?” asked Mr. Pendennis. - -“We’re in danger of being swept through Portland Race, and it looks as -if you are heading straight for it.” - -“Are we, by Jove!” ejaculated the Cornishman. “Yes, I can hear the roar -now. Our engine muffled the sound. Right-o! pass your line. Course, -sou’east?” - -“Sou’-sou’-east would be better,” remarked Mr. Grant. “’Tany rate, day’s -breaking, and we’ll soon see if we’re giving the Race sufficient berth.” - -“Right-o!” rejoined Scoutmaster Pendennis. “We’ll do our best, but we’ve -only an eight horsepower engine.” - -The _Merlin_ forged slowly ahead until she took up the strain of the -tow; then, increasing power, she whisked the _Kestrel_ along at a steady -five knots. - -“You fellows can turn in again,” said Brandon, addressing the Sea Scouts -who had been routed out of their bunks. - -But the lads showed no desire to go below. In the pale grey dawn they -remained on deck, dividing their interest between the _Merlin_ and a -broad belt of white-foamed water barely a couple of miles on the port -hand. Although the sea everywhere else was calm, the Race was one -chaotic mass of broken water, roaring like a wild beast baulked of its -prey. - -“Good old _Merlin_!” exclaimed Talbot. “She’s done the trick!” - -Mr. Grant did not join in the chorus of appreciation. It was yet too -soon to shout. He had his doubts on the ability of the little motor to -carry out its heavy task; for, although both yachts were moving in a -southerly direction at about five knots, the now strong flood tide was -setting in a nor’-easterly direction at a good seven miles an hour. The -question that arose was whether the _Merlin_ and her tow could draw -clear of the Race in time; although there was some consolation in the -fact that the yachts were no longer in danger of being carried into the -centre of that tempestuous waste of water. - -Almost imperceptibly the _Kestrel_ began to feel the influence of the -broken waves. Soon she began to pitch and roll. So did the _Merlin_, to -the accompaniment of a series of heavy jerks on the towing hawser. - -“Why, the Race is coming towards us!” remarked Symington. - -“No, it isn’t,” rejoined Brandon drily. “We’re going towards it. Hang on -to something solid, you fellows. We’ll be getting wet shirts in a brace -of shakes. . . . You all right, sir? Mind that arm!” - -The fellows on the _Merlin_ had by this time noticed the danger that -threatened them. Two of her crew hurriedly paid out more hawser, an act -that at first looked as if the _Merlin_ was about to cast off her -well-nigh helpless consort. Some of the former’s crew who had been -sitting comfortably on the fore-deck came aft hurriedly when they saw -the wall of breaking water approaching. - -A minute later and both yachts were in the thick of it. True, it was but -the tail end of the dreaded Race, but the sight of the agitated mass of -water was none the less awesome. At one moment the _Merlin_ was towing -the _Kestrel_ through a calm sea; at the next both craft, pitching, -heeling, and staggering, were being assailed by the furious waves. - -Again and again the _Kestrel_ dipped her bowsprit, flung her bows high -as her stern dropped into the trough of the sea. Spars and solid gear -rattled, canvas shook and flapped furiously as boom and gaff, bringing -up with disconcerting jerks, threatened to shake the mast out of her, -the while the _Merlin_, similarly assailed, was doing her best to win -through. Suddenly a particularly vicious breaker surged over her -quarter. The motor stopped. Both yachts were now helpless in the grip of -the dreaded overfalls. - - - - - CHAPTER XV - “To be Returned in Due Course” - - -The situation was desperate. The _Merlin_ was now a source of peril to -the yacht she had done her best to aid. There was no wind. The fiercely -flapping canvas was useless; equally out of the question was it to -attempt to make use of the oars, for at one moment the blades would be -high in the air, at another buried by the rush of the irregular and -foaming waves. Held by the towing hawser, the two yachts were in -momentary danger of colliding as they swung round almost parallel to -each other and with less than five yards of chaotic water between them. - -In a trice, Brandon realised the danger, made up his mind, and acted. At -the imminent risk of being either jerked or washed overboard he fought -his way for’ard, hanging on desperately as he battled towards his goal. -One moment thigh deep in water; at another sprawling on the ridge formed -by the steeply heeling cabin-top, he progressed foot by foot. With -bleeding knees and broken finger-nails, well-nigh breathless with his -struggle, the Patrol Leader contrived to throw himself flat upon the -heaving fore-deck. Then, hanging on with his left hand, he succeeded in -casting off the rope that held the _Kestrel_ to the _Merlin_. - -Then, obtaining a grip with both hands, Brandon waited to witness the -fruits of his hazardous task. At first it seemed as if the act were in -vain. The two craft showed no tendency to drift apart; on the contrary, -it looked as if they would close. Had they done so, the fate of each -would have been sealed, for the strongest yacht ever built would not be -proof against the terrific hammering of the two hulls in that tumultuous -sea. - -After a few minutes of anxious suspense, the distance between the two -vessels began to increase. The _Merlin_ swung round until her bows -pointed in the opposite direction to her previous course. As she rolled, -the crew of the _Kestrel_ could see the Cornish Sea Scouts struggling -desperately in a futile attempt to restart the motor. - -For another five minutes the ordeal continued; then, almost as suddenly -as she had entered the Race, the _Kestrel_ found herself in -comparatively calm water, with the final unwelcome gift of about fifty -gallons of the English Channel being thrown in her cockpit. - -The _Merlin_ was not long in following her consort’s example, and, with -the roar of the turbulent overfalls still dinning in their ears, the -crews of both yachts set about repairing the damage done during their -exciting quarter of an hour. - -Owing to the fact that they had missed the most dangerous part of -Portland Race both craft had come off comparatively lightly. Twenty -minutes’ hard work at the pump freed the _Kestrel_ of the water that had -found its way on board. Her mizzen-boom had been sprung close to the -gooseneck; one of the panes of the skylight had been broken; -while—worst of all—her dinghy’s top-strake had been badly smashed -owing to the boat being thrown violently against the _Kestrel’s_ -quarter. - -Three of the Sea Scouts had received minor injuries owing to the severe -and erratic motion of the yacht; Eric Little was “down and out” with -sea-sickness; while Molly, the pup, who had been locked in the saloon, -was nearly frantic with joy when Peter went below to see how she had -fared. - -“What’s wrong with your engine?” enquired Mr. Grant, hailing the -_Merlin_. - -“Water on plug and in the carburetter,” replied Scoutmaster Pendennis. -“We’ll get her going soon, I hope. I’ve heard a lot about Portland Race, -but I never expected it to be like that on a calm day. Hello! what’s the -matter with your hand?” - -“Poisoned it,” explained Mr. Grant. “It’s getting better now. I say: -what do you propose to do?” - -“We’re carrying on,” replied Pendennis. “We want to make Yarmouth or -Lymington to-day. We’ll tow you until a breeze springs up.” - -“We’ll have to put into Swanage,” announced Mr. Grant. “We’ve a stowaway -on board and we want to land him.” - -“How interesting,” rejoined the Cornishman. “All right, Swanage it is -for both of us. We want more petrol, although we may have enough to -carry us on if the breeze does show up.” - -Both yachts, now being propelled by sweeps, were now standing up Channel -at a distance of about ten yards between them, so that the crews could -keep up a running fire of conversation. The while the Cornish Sea Scouts -were tackling the still refractory motor. - -It was not until the two craft had practically drifted two miles to the -east’ard of the Shambles Lightship that the long-hoped-for breeze sprang -up—a steady sou’westerly one. - -In grand style the two yachts cut through the water, heading for the -still distant St. Alban’s Head. In point of speed there was little to -choose, for although the _Merlin_ had a slightly greater displacement -and carried more canvas, this advantage was countered by the drag of her -now inactive propeller. - -“We’ve got to go through another race, lads,” observed Mr. Grant at -breakfast. “That’s the one off St. Alban’s, but it won’t be anything -like the one off Portland.” - -“What causes them, sir?” asked Carline. - -“It’s a sort of submarine steeplechase,” explained the Scoutmaster. “A -strong tidal water sweeping over a fairly deep and level bed of the sea -suddenly encounters a submerged ledge of rocks. The whole of that mass -of water has to find its way across in less than half the previous -depth, and since the level of the water cannot be materially increased, -the result is that the rate of the flow of water has to be greatly -increased and causes a succession of overfalls. . . . Well, Eric: -feeling better? Good! Make a decent meal, my lad, ’cause you’ve a long -journey in front of you.” - -“Is it very much further to Chichester?” asked the youth. - -“We’re sending you home to Dartmouth.” - -“I think you are labouring under a misapprehension, sir,” rejoined the -precocious youth. “I’m on my way to visit my aunt and uncle at -Chichester—and I won’t go back to Dartmouth! If you won’t take me, I’ll -walk the rest of the way.” - -“We’ll see,” remarked the Scoutmaster oracularly, and changed the topic -of conversation. - -An hour later the _Kestrel_ and the _Merlin_ rounded St. Alban’s Head, -where, with the exception of a sullen swell, there was little to -indicate the locality of the ofttimes dangerous Race. Followed a run -along the rocky coast in full view of the famous caves where smugglers -and wreckers once plied their infamous trade. Durlstone Head was left -astern and a course shaped to clear the dangerous Peveril Ledge. Then -the whole expanse of Swanage Bay opened into view. - -Both yachts anchored in less than seven feet of water just inside the -shelter of Swanage Pier. The Cornish lads went ashore in their quest for -petrol and provisions, and with them went the Sea Scouts of the -_Kestrel_ with the exception of Craddock, who, with Mr. Grant and the -stowaway, remained on board. - -Brandon was the bearer of a telegraph form on which Mr. Grant had -written: “Have found a stray grandson; please wire instructions.” - -Having dispatched the wire, the Patrol Leader and Heavitree made their -way towards Peveril Point in order to give Molly a run on a closely -cropped turf. - -Waiting until a reply might be forthcoming, Brandon called at the -post-office. There was no answer. After another half-hour had elapsed he -called again, still without success. From the beach he semaphored the -news to Mr. Grant. - -The delay was getting serious. The _Merlin_ was ready to resume her -voyage. There was a fair wind and tide, but if the start were delayed -much longer a strong adverse tide would be encountered in the Needles -channel, which meant that perhaps the Sea Scouts would be compelled to -spend another anxious night afloat. - -“You’d better push on, Pendennis,” suggested Mr. Grant. “We’ll follow -and pick you up at Lymington.” - -The Cornishman fell in with the idea. As a matter of fact, he -particularly wanted to give his crew a good night’s rest in some -sheltered harbour within The Wight; and, having the West of England -yachtsman’s typical respect for the mudbanks and erratic tides of the -Solent, he did not relish the possibility of having to navigate that -intricate waterway in the hours of darkness. - -So the _Merlin_ “carried on.” - -Craddock then semaphored a message to his chum telling him to remain -ashore until one o’clock, but to keep the other Sea Scouts together in -case they had to re-embark in a hurry. - -It was not until five minutes to the hour that the expected telegram -arrived. It read: - -“Administer suitable chastisement. Return delinquent at your -convenience.” - -The Scoutmaster made a wry face when the telegram was handed him. - -“That merely confirms my opinion, Brandon,” he remarked in a low voice. -“The lad’s grandfather is not only very precise in his mannerisms; he is -evidently a bit of a martinet. I’ll say this for Eric: he might be a -queer little chap, but he’s not a sneak. It was only by quite an -accident that I found out that he has been frequently thrashed for minor -offences. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’ might be all very well if -carried out with fairness and moderation—although I very much doubt the -wisdom of personal chastisement, except under very special -circumstances. However, since Mr. Little gives me a tolerably free hand, -I’ll return the delinquent at my convenience. That is: we’ll take him -along with us, and hand him over to his uncle at Chichester.” - -“That’s a topping idea, sir!” exclaimed the Patrol Leader. “We’ll do our -best to give the lad a good time.” - -“Then tell Eric the news,” continued Mr. Grant. “Or, better, send him -down to me. Get under way as sharp as you can, Brandon. The _Merlin_ has -a good start, but with luck we ought to rejoin her before sunset.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVI - The _Kestrel_ to the Rescue - - -The Sea Scouts needed no second bidding to get under way. The remote -possibility of being able to overhaul the _Merlin_ acted as a spur. By -this time each lad knew his particular duty, and in very quick time main -and mizzen sails were set, head-sails hoisted in stops, and the cable -hove short. - -Then, at the Patrol Leader’s word of command, the anchor was weighed and -stowed in its customary place, the jib and staysail were broken out and -trimmed to catch the favouring breeze, and within five minutes from the -order to get under way the _Kestrel_ was heading for the distant Solent. - -Already the _Merlin_ was hull-down, only her canvas showing above the -skyline. She was roughly eight miles ahead. - -Outside Swanage Bay the wind freshened, coming offshore in irregular -gusts that swept over the lofty chalk cliffs of Ballard Down. The tide -was still running to the east’ard with considerable strength, but there -was very little sea to speak of. Even a sailing dinghy could be out -without any danger of shipping water. - -Presently a craft under sail and motor overtook the _Kestrel_. It was a -flat-bottomed contraption measuring, perhaps, twenty feet in length, and -was propelled by an outboard motor. - -Brandon regarded the boat critically. It certainly looked a freak. -Apparently the designer had originally intended to give her plenty of -beam and a broad transom; but, changing his mind, had tapered the stern -until it was about nine inches in width. Consequently, and owing to the -weight of the heavy engine clamped on the stern, the boat had very -little bearing surface aft and a small amount of freeboard. - -In the stern-sheets sat a fat-faced, smug-looking individual rigged out -in a peaked cap and blue reefer coat with brass buttons. His profile -reminded Brandon of a parrot, for his nose was inclined to be hooked, -while from underneath a pair of full lips an insignificant receding chin -heightened the resemblance to a bird. The rest of the “crew” consisted -of three women and two children. The sheet of the lugsail, Brandon -noticed, was made fast. - -As this freakish craft overhauled the _Kestrel_, passing her at a -distance of about twenty yards to wind’ard, the brass-buttoned helmsman -favoured the Sea Scouts with a superior sort of smile. - -“What a comic outfit!” exclaimed Craddock to his chum. “That chap -evidently thinks he’s the goods.” - -“He’s certainly pleased with himself at having overhauled us,” rejoined -the Patrol Leader. “But wait a bit. There’s a patch of broken water -ahead. Let’s see how that old orange-box will take it.” - -Just then Mr. Grant came on deck. He had been writing in the cabin, and -on hearing the noise of the motor had glanced through the scuttle. He, -too, had not failed to notice the supercilious grin on the fellow’s -flabby features. - -“That man’s looking for trouble,” he observed. “There ought to be a -‘Society for the Protection of Guests of Half-Baked Amateur Marine -Motorists.’ Up helm a little Peter; keep in his wake. Unless I’m much -mistaken, that freak craft will be in difficulties before very long.” - -The _Kestrel_ was now about four hundred yards to the sou’west of Old -Harry, that well-known chalk pinnacle forming the eastern extremity of -the Isle of Purbeck. The motor boat was by this time a couple of hundred -yards ahead and making straight for a well-defined tide-rip caused by -the tidal current flowing over a ledge of submerged rock running out -from Standfast Point. - -The greenhorn at the helm of the motor boat failed to notice the popple -of disturbed water. His attention seemed to be centred upon the -_Kestrel_, as if he were still gloating over his superior speed. - -Soon the boat began to pound heavily. Her narrow stern dipped. Spray -flew over the engine, putting it out of action. The metal rudder was -totally inadequate to keep the flat-bottomed craft on its course. A puff -of wind filled the sail, causing the boat to pay off and heel. - -Too late the brass-buttoned novice realised the danger. When he did, he -could do nothing beyond attempting to restart the engine. His weight as -he leant over the narrow stern made matters worse. A sea poured -completely over the weather quarter. The boat still lived although half -full of water. - -Panic seized the man. He had lost his yachting cap—it was floating on -the water that swirled over the bottom-boards—and abject fear was -plainly written on his face, while his long hair streamed in the breeze. - -The while the sail was taking the full force of the wind, for no attempt -had been made to free the sheet. - -Suddenly, as the boat shipped more water, the mast became unshipped and -disappeared over the side, taking the sail with it. The boat, no longer -making way, fell into the trough of the sea and took in water on both -sides. - -“Cut away your gear and ride to it!” shouted Brandon, for the _Kestrel_ -was now within hailing distance. - -The advice, intelligible to anyone acquainted with even an elementary -knowledge of seamanship, was lost as far as the bewildered and -panic-stricken owner of the motor boat was concerned. He could only wave -his arms wildly and shout for help. The women, although obviously badly -scared, at least had the sense to keep still. - -The Scoutmaster glanced at Brandon and nodded. The Patrol Leader -understood. It was a silent intimation that he was to exercise his -discretion in the operation of bringing the _Kestrel_ alongside the -fast-foundering boat. - -“Stand by to go about!” ordered Brandon. - -Two of the Sea Scouts jumped to tend the head-sheets. Heavitree, -boat-hook in hand, took up his station at the main-shrouds. Craddock was -at the tiller. The others stood by ready to help the “crew” of the motor -boat into safety. - -“Up helm a bit . . . at that!” exclaimed Brandon. - -The _Kestrel_, with the wind well abaft the beam, flew past the now -almost waterlogged boat. Mistaking the nature of the manœuvre, the -brass-buttoned man waved his arms in redoubled frenzy and literally -howled when he thought the ketch was leaving him to his fate. - -Brandon knew quite well what he was doing. To attempt to bring the -_Kestrel_ alongside with a quartering wind would result in the boat -being crushed, or at least it would have been impossible to get a hold -and retain it. There was only one course practicable, and that was to -run to lee’ard, go about, and shoot up into the wind, losing way within -a few feet of the object for succour. - -“Lee-o!” exclaimed Brandon, loudly and clearly. - -Peter put the helm down. Talbot and Symington let fly the jib and -foresail sheets; while Wilson hauled away at the slack of the mainsheet. -Still keeping the tiller hard over, Craddock attended to the -mizzen-sheet. - -The _Kestrel_ came about as gracefully as her namesake, turning slowly -and unfalteringly. Then, kept down in the eye of the wind, she forged -ahead with gradually diminishing way until Heavitree could grip the -gunwale of the motor boat with the boat-hook. - -By this time the boat had been swamped. Her stern, weighted down by the -outboard engine, was six feet beneath the surface, while the bows, kept -afloat by the air under the fore-deck, were about a couple of feet above -water. To the still floating portion the “crew” clung, while the owner, -his face green with terror, abandoned his waterlogged craft and made a -jump for the _Kestrel’s_ shrouds. Forgetting the difficulties of “taking -off” from a submerged platform, he leapt short but continued to grip the -rail. There he hung, submerged to his shoulders, puffing like a grampus -as he struggled in vain to haul himself on board the yacht. - -The sight of the selfish, cowardly man made Mr. Grant lose his temper—a -thing he rarely did. He realised that with the fellow’s bulk between the -yacht’s side and the sinking motor boat the difficulty of getting the -rest of the party on board was enormously increased. Time, too, was -precious, for the _Kestrel_ would soon “pay off” and gather way, in -which case the manœuvre of getting alongside the waterlogged craft would -have to be repeated. - -“Let go, you idiot!” roared the Scoutmaster. “Haven’t you heard of -‘women and children first’?” - -The man refused to do so. - -“Stamp on his fingers, Heavitree!” exclaimed Mr. Grant, realising that -if a calamity likely to become a fatality were to be avoided, drastic -measures were absolutely imperative. - -Heavitree was unable to carry out these instructions. All his efforts -were concentrated upon an attempt to retain a hold on the boat and to -prevent it sinking still further as the women strove to raise themselves -out of the water. - -Just then the partly submerged boat surged against the _Kestrel’s_ side. -The craven owner’s generous proportions acted as an animated fender, but -the shock well-nigh winded him and caused him to relax his grip. - -In a trice Talbot grasped him by his long hair and dragged him aft, -where Craddock assisted in hauling the man on deck. - -Meanwhile Brandon and Symington set to work like Trojans to tranship the -badly scared women and children. They were not a moment too soon. The -_Kestrel_ was forging ahead. - -“I can’t hold her much longer, sir!” exclaimed Heavitree. - -“Let her go,” replied Mr. Grant briefly. - -Heavitree disengaged the boat-hook. The swamped motor boat drifted -astern. Bubbles of air were escaping from the uptilted fore-deck. - -“Shall we have a shot at salving her?” asked Brandon. - -The Scoutmaster shook his head. - -“Let her go,” he replied. “She won’t have another chance to drown -anyone. . . . There she goes! Bon voyage!” - -The freak craft disappeared from view. Mr. Grant glanced dispassionately -at the late owner, who was still in an abject state. - -“The yellow streak has shown itself, I notice,” remarked the -Scoutmaster. “Well, it’s no use asking _him_ questions. We’ll have to -land the crew somewhere. I wonder where they came from?” - -“Where shall we make for, sir?” asked Brandon. - -“Studland,” replied Mr. Grant. “It’s just round the corner. Give that -point a wide berth.” - -With a fair tide and beam wind, the _Kestrel_ opened into the wide -expanse of Studland Bay. It would have meant a tedious beat shorewards -owing to the cliffs blanketing the wind, but fortunately a motor -passenger-boat happened to be leaving the shore, and in response to a -semaphored message she ran alongside the yacht. - -Five minutes later the still considerably scared survivors of the sunken -boat were transhipped to the passenger craft, and the _Kestrel_, running -before the wind, resumed her attempt to overhaul the far-distant -_Merlin_. - -By this time Mr. Grant had recovered his customary even temper. - -“After all, perhaps the silly ass couldn’t help being in a fearful -funk,” he remarked. “When all’s said and done, bravery largely consists -of being afraid of being afraid. . . . What’s that, Wilson? They’ve made -the saloon slopping wet? Well, mop it up. That’ll be another Good Turn -to your credit.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVII - Becalmed - - -With all sail set, even the topsail and spinnaker, the _Kestrel_ tore -through the water, shaping a course to pass one mile to the south’ard of -Hengistbury Head, a bold promontory situated roughly midway between Old -Harry and the Needles. - -The _Merlin_ was no longer in sight. In vain Brandon, with a pair of -binoculars, swung round his neck, went aloft, where, perched on the -cross-trees, he brought his glasses to bear upon a limited expanse of -horizon that showed between the straining canvas. He could see the brown -sails of half a dozen fishing boats and the smoke of a steamer, but of -the Cornish Sea Scouts’ craft not a sign. - -“They’ve too good a pair of heels for us,” he remarked, when he regained -the deck. - -“What’s that?” asked Heavitree, pointing slightly on the starboard bow. -“There’s something white. Isn’t that the _Merlin’s_ sails?” - -“I believe you’re right,” said Carline. “Only she’s a long way out. Let -me have the glasses, Brandon.” - -The Patrol Leader handed over the binoculars. Carline levelled them at -the supposed cloud of canvas. - -“Why, it’s a white cliff rising out of the sea,” he exclaimed. - -“Yes, the Isle of Wight,” explained Brandon. “It puzzled me at first. -From the cross-trees I could make out the Needles. If——” - -A dull thud that shook the yacht from truck to keel interrupted the -Patrol Leader’s words. For a brief instant the _Kestrel_ seemed to stop -dead. It might have been only an illusion, but everyone on deck thought -so. - -“We’re aground!” exclaimed Talbot. - -Brandon glanced over the side. The yacht was still carrying way and -lifting easily to the waves. - -“There’s plenty of water everywhere,” he replied. “We must have struck -something, though.” - -The jar brought Mr. Grant on deck to see what was amiss. - -“We struck something pretty heavy,” he remarked. “Nip below, Peter, and -look under the floorboards in the fo’c’sle. She may have strained a -plank.” - -Craddock did so. He had not been gone more than a few seconds when the -reason of the alarm became evident. About a hundred yards on the -starboard quarter an enormous porpoise broke surface, followed by -another. Both animals were badly scared, for they promptly dived and -were not seen again. - -Presently Peter returned with the information that the yacht was as -tight as a bottle. Thanks to her heavy build she had escaped damage, -although a vessel with slighter scantlings might easily have had her bow -planking stove in. - -At length Hengistbury Head was brought abeam, and for ten minutes the -_Kestrel_ had a pretty stiff hammering over Christchurch Ledge. By this -time the Needles and the multi-coloured cliffs of Alum Bay were clearly -discernible, while right ahead rose the slender tower of Hurst Castle -lighthouse. - -“Look!” exclaimed Talbot. “Isn’t that the _Merlin_?” - -He pointed to a yacht about three miles dead ahead. Brandon brought the -binoculars into action. - -“Yes, you’re right, Talbot,” he replied. “It is the _Merlin_. She’s -becalmed.” - -“Then, we may overhaul her yet,” said Wilson. - -“She’ll use her motor,” declared Craddock. - -“If they can get the thing to go,” added Brandon. “But it’s rather -strange. Here we are busting along with every stitch of canvas drawing, -and they haven’t a breath of wind. The sea’s as smooth as glass a mile -ahead.” - -As far as the _Kestrel_ was concerned the breeze held strong and true -until she drew within a hundred yards of the Cornish Sea Scouts’ craft. -Then the wind failed utterly. In the grip of the now adverse tide both -yachts began to lose ground. Ahead and only three miles away lay the -Solent—looking alluring and peaceful in the rays of the late afternoon -sun. Without the aid of a steady and favourable breeze or that of a -powerful motor the two yachts were not likely to gain their desired -harbour during the next six hours. - -Keeping her now useless canvas set, the _Kestrel_ dropped anchor. The -_Merlin_ continued to drift until she came abreast of the Aberstour Sea -Scouts’ craft; then she, too, let go her anchor. - -“You were lucky to carry a breeze so long,” shouted the Patrol Leader of -the _Merlin_. “We’ve been becalmed for quite two hours. We got within a -quarter of a mile of the lighthouse when the tide changed. Look where we -are now!” - -“Why didn’t you use your motor?” asked Craddock. - -“We haven’t been able to get the thing going,” was the reply. “We’ve -been trying all day, and we haven’t given up hope yet, although we do -feel a bit fed up.” - -“Can I give you a hand?” asked Peter, who possessed a sound knowledge of -internal combustion engines. - -“If you will,” replied the Cornish Patrol Leader. - -Craddock jumped into the dinghy, cast off the painter, and rowed to the -_Merlin_. It required a considerable amount of hard rowing, for the tide -was now swirling past and the dinghy was large and heavy. - -“What have you done?” he enquired, as he gained the _Merlin’s_ deck. - -“Tried everything,” was the reply. “The mag.’s all right; there’s quite -a healthy spark, but she won’t even fire her dope.” - -Peter made the usual preliminary tests. Pouring a few drops of petrol -into the plug and placing the latter on the cylinder, he found that the -spirit ignited readily enough; but, as the Patrol Leader had said, the -“dope” would not fire when the plug was in position. - -“Tried a spare plug?” asked Craddock. - -“Four—no good,” was the terse and emphatic reply. - -Carefully overhauling the high-tension wire, Peter called attention to -the fact that the insulation was rather worn at a spot where the wire -crossed one of the bearers of the cockpit floor. - -“Yes,” agreed the Cornish lad, “I noticed that; but if there is a short -there’d be no spark at all. As it is, the plug has quite a healthy -spark.” - -“Well, try now,” suggested Craddock. “No; don’t replace the floorboards. -Stand astride of the gap.” - -At the first swing of the starting handle the motor fired and continued -to do so, “ticking over” with the throttle only just open. - -“Well, I’m dashed!” ejaculated the _Merlin’s_ engineer. “What did you -do?” - -“Nothing,” replied Peter. “Now replace the floorboards.” - -As soon as the rectangular-shaped woodwork was placed in position the -motor stopped. - -“That beats me!” remarked the Patrol Leader. - -“There’s your trouble,” declared Craddock, removing and overturning the -floorboard. “See that steel plate?” - -He pointed to the double strip of metal forming the edge of a slot to -take the reversing lever. - -“It’s bearing directly upon the high-tension wire, and the continual -vibration has damaged the insulation. The motor fired when the -floorboard was up, but when it was in position the metal touched the -wire and caused a short circuit. Wrap some insulating tape round the -wire—it would be as well to cut a notch in that beam to let the wire -bed itself better—and you won’t have any more bother.” - -“My word! You’re a smart fellow!” exclaimed the other, with frank -admiration. - -“Not at all,” protested Craddock. “You see, I had exactly the same -trouble once on board our old boat, the _Puffin_, and I had to get -another fellow to put it right.” - -“’Tany rate, you’ve done a very Good Turn,” declared Mr. Pendennis. -“We’ll try and return it by giving the _Kestrel_ a tow. I don’t say that -we’ll succeed against this tide, but we’ll have a good shot at it.” - -The Falmouth Scoutmaster hailed the _Kestrel_. - -“I say, Grant!” he exclaimed. “We’re going to give you a tow. Do you -know your way in? I don’t, except for the directions in the ‘Channel -Pilot’; but which is Fort Victoria? Look here, do you mind coming on -board and piloting us?” - -Mr. Grant accepted the invitation. Craddock returned to the _Kestrel_, -and preparations were made to pass a hawser from the _Merlin_ to the -other yacht. Both anchors were weighed simultaneously and the strenuous -effort began. - -Slowly yet surely the two vessels approached Hurst Channel. Ahead could -be seen a confused turmoil of broken sea as the pent-up water of the -Solent forced its way through the narrow passage between Hurst Castle -and the Isle of Wight. - -It was now that local knowledge came in most usefully. Except for one -point ominously named “The Trap,” the beach at Hurst Castle is steep-to, -the depth increasing to fifteen fathoms within a few yards of the shore. -By keeping close in, Mr. Grant knew that the full force of the tide -would not only be avoided, but that there would also be found a tidal -eddy in their favour. - -“You can rely upon the motor, I hope?” he enquired. “If it should go -wrong, we’ll find ourselves in a very dangerous situation.” - -Receiving an assurance on that point, Mr. Grant ordered the helm to be -starboarded a little. - -Gradually the slow progress increased until, aided by the -counter-current, the _Merlin_ and the _Kestrel_ seemed to jump ahead. -They were now within their own length of the beach. Ahead lay “The -Trap,” and off it a broiling tide which, if it caught the _Merlin_ on -her port bow, would swing her out into the full strength of the ebb. - -Edging cautiously, the _Merlin_ approached the crucial spot. She -appeared to stop dead. The strain on the towing hawser eased. The -_Kestrel_ continued to decrease her distance, making straight for the -dangerous ledge. To Brandon at the helm it seemed as if a titanic hand -was gripping the keel and shaking the whole boat. He could do nothing. -The rudder seemed useless, and yet the yacht was heading for -destruction. - -Suddenly the _Merlin_ forged ahead. She had crawled past the dangerous -point and was now aided by a favourable eddy. With a staggering jerk the -hawser took up the strain. The _Kestrel_ leapt ahead, her keel missing -the steeply shelving ledge by inches. - -In another five minutes both craft were stemming the relatively weak -tide off the mud-flats of the Hampshire shore. - -“Near thing that,” remarked Heavitree. “I thought we should have had to -have jumped for it that time.” - -“If we had, we should have stood as much chance as a mouse in a pail of -water,” rejoined Brandon, glancing at the maelstrom astern. “Next time I -think I’d rather wait till the tide turns.” - - - - - CHAPTER XVIII - The Admiral - - -“What’s that fellow staring at us for?” asked Talbot. - -“Oh, I don’t know,” replied Symington carelessly, as he stooped to put a -final polish on his shore-going boots. “It’s the thing to do afloat. -Everyone does, and it’s taken as a sort of compliment to the craft you -happen to be aboard.” - -“But, just you look at him,” persisted Talbot. - -It was the morning following the arrival of the _Kestrel_ and the -_Merlin_ in Lymington River. Both craft were brought up on Long Reach -and just above the second beacon. As the east-going tide would not run -before the afternoon, and as it was almost a hopeless proposition to -attempt to stem the adverse tide, the crews of both boats had arranged -to go ashore in the forenoon, and were consequently “smartening -themselves up” for the occasion. - -Symington gave a casual glance. Then he looked a second time. Evidently -Talbot’s wonder was justifiable, for breasting the ebb-tide was an open, -centre-board sailing boat in the stern-sheets of which sat the only -occupant. - -He was a bronzed-complexioned man of about forty, with iron-grey hair -and a white “torpedo” beard. His beetling brows were conspicuous by -their long, white hairs, overhanging dark and deep-set eyes. He wore a -blue reefer suit and a peaked cap cocked at a rakish angle over one eye. -As Talbot had remarked, he was staring—although it looked more like a -glare—straight at the _Kestrel_. - -The _Kestrel_ had anchored about fifty yards lower down the stream than -the _Merlin_, and was in consequence nearer to the approaching boat. - -Even as Symington looked the bearded man put his helm down with the -evident intention of coming alongside. - -“Someone to see you, sir!” he announced, addressing Mr. Grant, who had -just finished shaving. - -The rest of the crew of the _Kestrel_ came on deck. Talbot and Carline -stood by with fenders; Symington prepared to take the stranger’s -painter; while the others lined up behind Mr. Grant, standing smartly at -“alert.” - -But instead of running alongside the man let his sheets fly, with the -result that the boat lost way and, only just stemming the tide, remained -practically level with the _Kestrel_. - -Then he stood up, almost bursting blood-vessels in his unaccountable -anger. - -“Confound you, sir!” he roared. “Don’t you know who I am?” - -“’Fraid I don’t,” replied Mr. Grant mildly. “Unless,” he added -cheerfully, “unless you are the harbour master.” - -“Insolence, sir! Rank insolence!” blared the man. “Why don’t you salute? -Why haven’t you dipped your ensign? I’m the Admiral commanding the -Atlantic Fleet!” - -For a moment the Scoutmaster was nonplussed. Obviously the enraged -individual was a lunatic and possibly a dangerous one. The situation had -to be handled delicately. The best thing to do, he decided, was to -humour the man. Fortunately the crew had taken their cue from their -Scoutmaster and had refrained from roaring with laughter. - -“I am sorry, sir,” said Mr. Grant. “I failed to recognise you.” - -“That’s no excuse,” stormed the man. “You’ve failed to pay proper -respect to your commanding officer, sir! Consider yourself under -arrest!” - -“Very good, sir,” replied the Scoutmaster. - -The while he was working out a very difficult problem. If the intruder -were as fierce as he looked—and in spite of his age he was active and -muscular—he was a positive danger. Perhaps before the united efforts of -the Sea Scouts could place him under restraint he might inflict severe -injuries on some of them. Handicapped by his injured hand, Mr. Grant -realised that he could do little from a physical point of view. - -On the other hand, he could not continue to temporise indefinitely. If -Mr. Pendennis could be communicated with, without exciting the man’s -suspicions, something might be done, for the Cornish Scoutmaster was a -huge, hefty fellow with no small reputation as a wrestler in a county -where wrestling as a sport holds a high position. - -Just then the madman noticed that his boat was adrift. He had neglected -to make fast the painter, and owing to his strange behaviour the Sea -Scouts had not given the boat a thought. Already the little sailing -craft, with her sails still out, was drifting to lee’ard. - -“Quartermaster of the Watch!” shouted the intruder. “Who gave you orders -to take my barge from the——” - -He paused abruptly. In his disordered brain was a faint realisation that -there was no accommodation ladder to this craft. Its absence puzzled -him. - -Suddenly he grasped Carline by the shoulder and hurled him overboard. It -was done so swiftly and unexpectedly that no one had time to raise even -a finger to attempt to prevent it; but the next instant Brandon and -Craddock threw themselves upon the madman. - -There was little room on the waterway for a struggle—merely a space of -about thirty inches between the raised cabin-top and the side of the -yacht; but in spite of limited surroundings the affray was a strenuous -one. - -To the credit of the two Sea Scouts it must be recorded that neither -lost his temper, in spite of the fact that they had seen Carline tossed -into the ditch. - -The madman fought desperately, using his fists successfully. It was -evident that he had been a trained boxer; yet there was wanting the -necessary co-operation between the brain and his fists. - -Contenting himself with parrying the man’s deliberate blows, the Patrol -Leader kept his opponent busy while Craddock contrived to get behind the -infuriated intruder. Then, gripping the man round his waist, Peter threw -him on his back upon the cabin-top. - -The struggle was not yet over. Again and again the maniac sought to -regain his feet. Wrenching one arm free, he struck out. Brandon gripped -him by the wrist and held on. Still the man resisted; yet -notwithstanding his fury he made no effort to use his feet against his -youthful antagonists. - -He was visibly tiring. So were Brandon and Craddock, but not to such an -extent. It was then that Heavitree joined in the fray. Deftly passing a -rope round the madman’s ankle and taking a turn with the end to one of -the runners, he soon had the man reduced to a state of helplessness; -while Brandon completed the business by securing the fellow’s arms -behind his back with his scarf. - -Meanwhile one of the crew of the _Merlin_ who happened to be on deck had -raised the alarm, and the yacht’s dinghy, manned by four Sea Scouts, -with Mr. Pendennis in the stern-sheets, came at top speed towards the -_Kestrel_. - -At the same time Carline was returning with the maniac’s boat. Finding -himself overboard, the Sea Scout thought that since he was in the water -he might just as well secure the drifting boat. This he did. Then, -lowering the centre-board and trimming the sheets, he sailed the little -craft alongside the _Kestrel_ just as the _Merlin’s_ dinghy arrived upon -the scene. - -“Hello! What’s the trouble?” enquired Scoutmaster Pendennis. - -Mr. Grant tapped his forehead significantly. - -“Is that so?” continued the Cornishman. “Poor fellow! I wonder where he -came from. As a matter of fact, I thought you’d had a visit from the -escaped convict. Haven’t you heard? It’s in this morning’s paper. A -prisoner got away from Parkhurst yesterday afternoon. It is supposed -that he stole a boat and crossed to the mainland. There’s a boat missing -at Yarmouth. Any damage done?” - -Brandon and Craddock, breathing heavily, shook their heads. Heavitree -had barked his knuckles in the struggle, but decided that “it was -nothing to write home about.” The madman, exhausted by his efforts, was -lying comparatively still, but apparently uninjured. - -The rapid beats of a steamer’s paddles caused a general rush to fend off -the boats lying alongside the _Kestrel_. One of the passenger boats -plying between Yarmouth and Lymington was coming up the river and -throwing out a tremendous wash. Further down stream anchored yachts were -rolling heavily in the breaking swell, while tons of water were receding -from the mud-flats in advance of the quickly moving vessel. - -As she passed, one of the passengers standing aft noticed the bound -figure on the _Kestrel’s_ deck and called his companions’ attention to -it. Then, raising his hands trumpet-wise to his mouth, he shouted: - -“We’ll come for him as soon as we can.” - -The steamer continued on her way to the pier, leaving the _Kestrel_ -rolling so heavily in her swell that Heavitree had to steady the -helpless captive lest he should be jerked overboard. - -Half an hour later a large rowing boat with a boatman and the two -passengers from the steamer came alongside. - -“So you’ve got him, sir,” said one of the latter. “I hope he didn’t give -you much trouble.” - -“Not much,” replied Mr. Grant. “Who is he?” - -The attendant, for such he was, explained. The madman was an inmate of a -private mental hospital a few miles from Yarmouth. Usually he was quite -docile, but there were occasions when he became violent. More than once -by a display of considerable cunning he had broken out of the -establishment, and invariably he had made his way to the little seaport -and had taken possession of an unattended boat. - -“We guessed he’d be making for Lymington,” continued the man. “When I -heard Mr. Lucas’s boat was missing, I said to my mate, ‘The Admiral’s up -to his old trick again.’ We call him The Admiral, because he’s always -under the delusion that he is one. Of course, the police must come to -the conclusion that the boat was taken by the fellow who got away from -Parkhurst yesterday, though I told them they were wrong. A desperate -chap, six foot one such as he is, wouldn’t risk showing himself in -Yarmouth, if he wanted to steal a boat. Glad we didn’t come across him -when we were looking for The Admiral last night. He’s serving a long -term for house-breaking with violence, and I don’t envy the policeman -who has to tackle him. Well, sir, we’ll take charge of The Admiral, if -you don’t mind.” - -“I don’t mind in the least,” replied Mr. Grant. “I suppose he won’t give -trouble?” - -“Bless you, no, sir!” declared the attendant. “He’ll be as quiet as a -lamb. Come on, Admiral!” he continued, addressing the subject of his -search. “There’s a rehearsal this afternoon, and what will happen if the -first violin isn’t there?” - -So saying, he removed the madman’s bonds and helped him to his feet. The -unfortunate man stepped into the waiting boat as quietly as any ordinary -individual. - -“How about this?” enquired the Scoutmaster, pointing to the sailing -boat. - -“I’ll be along to take charge of her, sir,” said the boatman. “You won’t -be getting under way afore the flood tide, I’ll allow?” - -With the departure of the attendants and their charge, Mr. Pendennis -prepared to return to his own craft. - -“We won’t be starting before two o’clock, I suppose,” he remarked. -“We’ll carry our tide right through to Chichester. Ought to get there by -eight with the breeze. By the way, how’s that hand of yours, Grant? -Oughtn’t you to see a doctor and get it lanced?” - -“No need,” replied Mr. Grant. “The poison’s out and the wound is healing -nicely. It will be all right in a day or so. Now, lads! Who’s for the -shore?” - - - - - CHAPTER XIX - The Convict - - -If, on leaving Lymington River, the _Kestrel_ hadn’t run on the mud; if -the tide had not changed and the wind fallen light; and if the _Merlin_ -had not run out of petrol: then the Sea Scouts might have found -themselves at the rendezvous for the Jamboree at eight o’clock that -evening. - -It was a combination of adverse circumstances. Running the _Kestrel_ -aground was excusable but hardly avoidable. Many a yachtsman with local -knowledge has done much the same, for the beacons, instead of marking -the edge of the channel, are some distance away from it and well up on -the mud. The _Kestrel_ “took the putty” badly and, in spite of the -_Merlin’s_ efforts to tow her off, she remained there for nearly two -hours. - -The change of the direction of the tidal stream and the dropping of the -wind, which finally backed to due east, were conditions for which the -Sea Scouts could not be held responsible; but the same could not be said -in excuse for the _Merlin_ running out of petrol. - -As a matter of fact, the Sea Scout in charge of the motor had examined -the gauge of the petrol tank, which registered eight gallons. -Unfortunately the indicator had stuck, and the actual amount when the -_Merlin_ went to her consort’s assistance was only one gallon. It was -now _nil_. - -This discovery was made when the two yachts were abreast of Egypt Point -and within a mile or so of Cowes Harbour. In vain they attempted to beat -up for that anchorage. Gripped by the steadily increasing foul tide they -were rapidly swept down the Solent until, realising that any further -efforts would only result in their being carried more to the west’ard, -they dropped anchor off Newtown River. - -“There’s a hamlet called Newtown and another place called Shalfleet,” -observed Mr. Pendennis, after consulting the chart. “We may be able to -get petrol at one of them. Are any of your fellows coming ashore with -us?” - -“We may as well go if we leave a couple of hands to look after the -yachts,” replied Mr. Grant. “The glass is steady and the tide won’t -change for another five hours. It’s good holding ground, and there’s no -fear of either craft dragging her anchor. Right-o! Who’ll volunteer to -remain?” - -Craddock and Heavitree offered to act as ship-keepers. Two Cornish Sea -Scouts also elected to stay on board the _Merlin_. The others manned the -two dinghies and prepared to make for the mouth of the river. - -“How about Molly?” asked Brandon. “Shall we take her?” - -The pup showed such a disinclination to go in the boat that she was left -behind. Usually she was quite excited at the sight of the dinghy being -manned, and was one of the first to scramble over the gunwale. But that -was only when Craddock was to form one of the party. She was fond of -everyone on board, even Eric Little; but she was devoted to Peter. Where -he went she would go, but if he remained on board it required forcible -abduction to get the pup into the boat. - -Left to themselves, Craddock and Heavitree had quite an enjoyable -afternoon. They fished, exchanged semaphore and Morse messages with the -_Merlin’s_ ship-keepers, wrote letters, and watched passing shipping. - -Six o’clock came, but there were no signs of the two dinghies. The Sea -Scouts had tea, washed up and stowed away the things, and came on deck -again. Still the absent members of the two crews failed to put in an -appearance. - -“What’s happened to the others?” asked Peter, hailing the _Merlin_. - -“Perhaps they can’t find a garage or a place where they sell petrol,” -replied one of the Falmouth lads. “I’ve been aloft to look, but there’s -only a small part of the harbour to be seen. It runs away behind that -hill to the right of the entrance.” - -“More likely they are high and dry on the mud,” added Heavitree. “Ah, -well! We aren’t lonely, and we aren’t idle. I’ve caught enough fish for -supper for all hands.” - -“If they are aground they can hardly be blamed for that,” continued the -Cornish Sea Scout. “These tides are fair puzzlers. Down our way we’re -satisfied with two tides a day; here people get four.” - -Craddock agreed. It was his first experience of the coast between Cowes -and Weymouth, where a second high water follows the first at anything -from two to four hours later. He had also been used to a rise and fall -of about eighteen feet. Here the range of tide seemed to be about six -feet. - -At sunset the main ebb was almost done. The _Kestrel_, anchored nearer -in shore than the _Merlin_, was within fifty yards of the now exposed -gravel banks. Taking soundings, Peter found that the depth was a fathom -and a half. - -“So we won’t ground at low tide,” he remarked to his chum. “There’s -nothing to worry about. Let’s go below and make ourselves snug. It’s -pretty nippy this evening.” - -Having lighted the riding-lamp and hoisted it on the forestay the two -lads retired to the saloon. Soon they were making a literary feast, -devouring the pages of their favourite weekly paper. Breathlessly they -followed the fearfully exciting adventures. The flight of time passed -unheeded. They had almost forgotten their immediate surroundings in -visualising a stalwart sergeant riding hot-foot across the boundless -prairie in close pursuit of a much-wanted desperado. - -Suddenly, Molly gave a low growl. - -“Quiet, little girl!” exclaimed Peter. - -But the pup refused to keep still. Clambering up the three broad steps -leading from the saloon to the cockpit, she changed her growl to a -succession of shrill barks of defiance. - -“What’s up, I wonder?” remarked Heavitree, coming back to earth, or -rather to his floating home. “Are the others returning?” - -“Don’t think so,” replied Peter, preparing to go on deck. “Molly’s -welcome is very different from that.” - -On gaining the cockpit Craddock stared in bewilderment. It was some -moments before he grew accustomed to the change from the well lighted -cabin to the faint moonlight. When he did he was all the more puzzled, -for, instead of land showing a few hundred yards to starboard, there was -nothing but an expanse of sea dotted with the flashing light of numerous -buoys. Then he looked to port. There was the land—the low-lying ground -to the east of the entrance of Newtown River. He had completely ignored -the fact that the _Kestrel_ had swung to the young flood tide. - -“What is it, Molly?” he asked. - -The pup, crouching with her forepaws planted against the low rail, was -barking furiously at a dark object floating in the water at less than -ten yards from the yacht’s bows. In the faint moonlight Craddock saw -that it was a basket drifting bottom upwards. - -“That’s nothing, pup,” declared the lad. “Haven’t you seen a drifting -basket before?” - -But Molly would not be silenced. She seemed to be fascinated by the -derelict wickerwork. - -Then Craddock began to be interested, too. And for a very good reason: -the basket was not drifting with the tide. It was moving decidedly -against it and slowly yet surely approaching the _Kestrel’s_ bows. - -“Come on deck, old man,” said Peter to his chum, in a low voice; but -Heavitree, who had resumed his absorbing pastime, either did not hear or -did not want to. - -Presently the basket disappeared from Peter’s range of vision. From -where he was standing in the cockpit he could not see the surface of the -water in the vicinity of the yacht’s bows. He heard the rasping of the -wickerwork against the _Kestrel’s_ side, and once more the basket -appeared in view, bobbing astern and now drifting naturally with the -tide. - -Molly’s bark grew louder and shriller. She had lost all interest in the -basket and was directing her attention to something under the bows. - -Before Craddock could go for’ard to investigate, the dripping head and -shoulders of a man appeared above the rail. Then, obtaining a foothold -on the bobstay, the intruder swung himself on the fore-deck, stood up, -and steadied himself by means of the forestay. - -“Get that there dawg of yourn out of it afore I ’as to ’urt it,” he -growled. - -In the semi-darkness the stranger seemed to tower to a great height. -Actually he was well over six feet, though narrow across the chest. He -was clean-shaven, and wore an overcoat that was many inches too short -for him. He was bare-legged, and it looked as if he were wearing shorts. -Water drained steadily from his meagre and saturated garments. - -“Come here, Molly!” exclaimed Peter, fearful lest the intruder should -carry out the alternative he had mentioned. - -The pup still refused. - -The man, stooping suddenly, grasped the animal by the scruff of the neck -and stepped aft as far as the mainmast. - -“Ketch!” he said laconically. “Don’t want to ’urt no dawg, I don’t.” - -With that he tossed the pup into Craddock’s hands, throwing her so -gently that, beyond being frightened, no harm was done to her. - -“Naw,” continued the intruder, “me an’ you are goin’ for a nice little -cruise-like. ’Tain’t no use kickin’. I’ve been a-watchin’ yer, an’ I -knows there’s only two of you. Ask for no trouble an’ you’ll get none. -Got me?” - -Just then Heavitree, hearing voices, was about to come on deck. To him -Peter handed the pup. - -“Lock her up and get back here as soon as you can,” he whispered. - -Then he addressed the intruder. Already he had no doubt as to the -fellow’s identity. The ill-fitting overcoat failed to conceal a rough -suit of grey cloth liberally bedecked with broad arrows. Obviously this -was the convict under sentence for robbery with violence, and in all -probability he would not hesitate to take desperate measures to prolong -his spell of liberty. Yet, Peter recalled, he had been gentle with a -dumb animal even though Molly had attempted to snap at his gnarled -fingers. - -“What do you want?” demanded the Sea Scout. “It’s no use coming here.” - -“Isn’t it, my young pal?” replied the convict. “That’s for me to say. -Now look ’ere: all I want is a bite o’ food an’ summat to drink. Then -I’ll trouble you to ’and over any clothes belongin’ to that tall bloke I -seed go ashore this arternoon. Then you’ll put me across t’other side -an’ you’ll get my best thanks. If you don’t——’Ere, you, get down out -of it. You won’t be wanted this trip.” - - - - -[Illustration: An Unwelcome Visitor - The convict hesitated. He did not like the look of the business end of - the boat-hook, nor did he relish the probability of a crack across the - head from the serviceable lump of iron which Heavitree gripped in - readiness.] - -The latter remarks were addressed to Heavitree, who having placed Molly -out of harm’s way had come out of the saloon to “join in the argument,” -as he expressed it. Far from complying with the convict’s demands he -went to stand beside Craddock and unobtrusively unshipped a heavy -belaying-pin. “Get out of it!” repeated the convict. Heavitree raising -his arm resolutely remained where he was. Craddock gave one glance in -the direction of the _Merlin_. No one was to be seen on her deck. More -than likely her two ship-keepers were amusing themselves below. In any -case, there was not much likelihood of help in that direction. The two -Sea Scouts on the Cornish yacht were without a dinghy, and being further -out in the tideway, they would run a serious risk of being carried away -if they attempted to swim to the aid of their brother-Scouts on the -_Kestrel_. If Peter and Heavitree were to “win through,” they would -evidently have to do so on their own merits. - -Realising this, Craddock picked up the boat-hook which was lying on the -waterways by the side of the cockpit coaming. It was a formidable -weapon, consisting of about eight feet of stout ash pole terminating in -a combined point and hook of galvanised iron. - -Armed resistance was one of the last things the miscreant had counted -upon. He had staked his chances upon the likelihood of being able to -overawe a couple of lads, but he had failed to estimate correctly the -physical and moral fibre of the average Sea Scout. As a general rule, -the burglar who employs brute force when dealing with a weak and -terrified householder is an arrant coward, easily terrified when -threatened with corporal punishment. When he finds that “the game is -up,” he will refrain from violence because he knows that on conviction -his sentence will be far heavier than if he had contented himself solely -with ordinary house-breaking. On the other hand, if he thinks he can get -clear he will not hesitate to stun or wound the person who attempts his -capture. - -The convict hesitated. He did not like the look of the business end of -the boat-hook, the staff of which was held in a pair of firm, steady -hands. Nor did he relish the probability of a crack across the head from -the serviceable lump of iron which Heavitree gripped in readiness. - -“Be reasonable, chums!” he whined. “’Ere’s a pore bloke wrongfully -convicted who’s got a chance to get clear. Be sports an’ give him a -’elping ’and.” - -“We will,” agreed Peter grimly. “We’ll give the police a helping hand, -so you’d better surrender and give no further trouble.” - -“S’pose I’d better,” rejoined the convict sullenly. “I sees myself back -in quod, ’cause ’ere come your pals in their boat.” - -Instinctively the two Sea Scouts turned their heads to follow the -direction of the crafty rogue’s glance. It was exactly what the convict -hoped they would do. - -In a trice he leapt across the cabin-top. Before Peter could recover his -guard the fellow was within the wavering point of the boat-hook. The -next instant he grasped Heavitree’s right wrist, rendering the -belaying-pin useless as a weapon either of defence or offence. - -But there was one thing he forgot. Accustomed to having a dry and -comparatively unyielding solid ground, he was quite unused to the motion -of a vessel. Even a forty-foot yacht responds perceptibly to the weight -of a person moving on deck. In his wild onslaught he lost his balance. -His bare feet slipped on the wet painted canvas of the cabin-top. He -fell heavily, bringing Heavitree down with him. - -In vain Heavitree tried to get in his terrible upper cut to the point. -The convict’s face seemed as if it were made of metal. He gave a grunt -as the Sea Scout’s fist jolted his chin, then with a quick movement his -fingers closed upon the lad’s throat. - -For a moment Craddock was unable to distinguish friend from foe in the -deep shadows of the cockpit. Then he heard his chum’s choking cry as he -gasped for breath. Snatching another belaying-pin from the rack, Peter -brought the iron bar down with considerable force upon the back of the -convict’s closely cropped head. - -The man seemed to crumple up. He subsided inertly across the body of the -Sea Scout he had tried to choke into insensibility. - -Extricating Heavitree from his decidedly unpleasant situation, Peter set -his chum down upon one of the seats in the cockpit. For several minutes, -Heavitree could do nothing but gasp, swallowing mouthfuls of the pure -ozone-laden air, until his companion grew alarmed. - -“It’s all right, I think,” spluttered Heavitree. “I don’t think I’m hurt -much, but I feel like a jelly. What’s happened to the chap? You haven’t -killed him?” - -“Hardly,” replied Peter. “His skull is too thick for that. I gave him a -tap to quiet him. Hello! more of them?” - -A pair of hands appeared over the side of the yacht, followed by a head. -It was one of the crew of the _Merlin_. Alarmed by the commotion on -board the _Kestrel_, he had boldly dived overboard and swum to the aid -of his brother-Scouts. It was a risky thing to do, and by the time he -had battled against the strong flood tide he was nearly exhausted. Peter -assisted the lad on board and explained matters. - -“My word!” exclaimed the Cornish lad. “This is some trip! We can’t say -the voyage has been dull, can we? Cheerful looking fellow, isn’t he? -Hadn’t we better secure him before he comes round?” - -“He looks as if he is about to recover consciousness,” said Peter. - -“In that case we’ll get busy,” rejoined the _Merlin’s_ representative. -“There’s no need to lash him up. Let me show you how we do things down -our way.” - -So saying, the Cornish Sea Scout picked up the mop which was lying on -deck. - -“Got another stick like this?” he asked. - -Craddock produced a spare handle from one of the lockers. - -“Capital!” exclaimed the other approvingly, and set to work to secure -the still insensible man. This he did by inserting one handle in one leg -of the convict’s shorts and passing lashings round both the knee and the -ankle. The other leg was dealt with similarly, with the result that one -end of each mop handle projected about six inches beyond the man’s feet, -while, since he would be unable to bend his lower limbs, he would be -unable to rise. - -“We’ll secure his wrists later,” remarked the Cornish lad. “We must give -the fellow a chance to recover.” - -“Hello!” exclaimed Heavitree. “Oars!” - -The others listened intently. Above the gentle sighing of the wind in -the yacht’s rigging came the sound of the regular beats of oars. The -long-absent Sea Scouts with their respective Scoutmasters were -returning. - -“Got any grub ready, Peter?” shouted Brandon, when within hailing -distance. “We’re famishing.” - -“Sorry, old son,” replied Craddock, “but we’ve been too busy -entertaining. Matter of fact, sir,” he continued, addressing Mr. Grant, -“we’ve a convict on board. What shall we do with him?” - - - - - CHAPTER XX - The Last Lap - - -“We don’t want him,” declared Mr. Grant. “Why didn’t you signal to the -shore? The place is stiff with warders and other people searching for -him. Well, what happened?” - -While Craddock was relating the somewhat alarming incident Brandon got -busy with his electric torch. It was not long before his “general call” -was acknowledged, and a message to the effect that the convict had been -recaptured and was on board was flashed for the information of the -search party. - -Back came the reply: “Thanks. Will send boat to fetch him at once.” - -“And what happened to you chaps?” asked Heavitree. - -“We got stuck in the mud—properly,” admitted Brandon ruefully. “I never -saw such a place for mud. We tried to land at one place and couldn’t. -Then we went on and found an old wharf. Talbot remained as boat-keeper -for both dinghies while the rest of us tramped into Shalfleet. By the -time we had looked round and Mr. Pendennis had bought the petrol we -found both boats high and dry. Talbot did his best to keep them afloat, -but it was of no use. In fact, he stuck twenty yards from shore, and the -mud was so soft that he couldn’t get back. He’s been sitting in the -dinghy for hours. We had had some grub, and now we’re frightfully -hungry. Talbot hasn’t had anything to eat since we pushed off from the -_Kestrel_.” - -Already the stove was lighted and preparations under way for a belated -meal. Presently, following a hail of “Yacht ahoy!” a large rowing boat -with two boatmen and four armed warders came alongside. - -The convict, who was now conscious, was transhipped. The head warder -asked for particulars. - -“Smart bit of work,” he declared admiringly, when Craddock had told his -plain, unvarnished tale. “He’s a desperate character with a black -record. Well, young man, you’ve jolly well earned the reward offered for -his apprehension.” - -Peter shook his head. - -“We don’t want it, do we, Heavitree?” he replied. “It’s too much like -blood-money.” - -“Nonsense,” declared the warder. “You’re entitled to it. You’ve rendered -a public service.” - -“S’pose that’s one way of looking at it,” admitted the lad. “All the -same, I don’t like the idea of touching the money. As a matter of fact, -Molly earned it as much as we did. Couldn’t we give the reward to that -Society for—you know what I mean, sir?” - -“‘Society for the Prevention of Cruelty to Animals.’ Yes, that’s rather -a good wheeze, Peter,” agreed the Scoutmaster. “Well, now, it’s quite -about time this party broke up.” - -Taking the hint, the warders removed their prisoner, who accepted the -situation philosophically, especially as Craddock and Heavitree had made -no mention to the authorities of the fact that he had used violence. - -“He didn’t hurt our pup, so we simply felt we had to let him down -lightly,” explained Peter. - -Very soon the crew of the _Kestrel_ were deep in slumber. They did not -turn out till late in the forenoon for two reasons. They wanted to -arrive at Chichester Harbour “as fresh as paint”; it was practically -useless to attempt to set sail until the west-going tide eased -considerably. By this time the Aberstour Sea Scouts had learnt to -respect the fierce tides of the Solent. - -When the lads did turn out, Brandon went on deck to haul down the -riding-light. Then, to his surprise, he discovered that the _Merlin_ was -nowhere to be seen. - -“She’s stolen a march on us on the last lap,” declared Heavitree when -the Patrol Leader announced the astonishing news. - -“Well, she hasn’t got far,” added Carline. “Unless, of course, she’s -made use of her motor.” - -“We would have heard it,” remarked Craddock. “Her exhaust is a very -noisy affair.” - -“Perhaps they thought that we gave them the slip at Falmouth,” suggested -Talbot. “One or two of the fellows looked a bit doubtful, as if we were -pulling their legs, when we explained how it happened. So they’re taking -a rise out of us.” - -“Stop arguing!” exclaimed Brandon. “Don’t go hanging on to the slack, -but get your breakfasts. The sooner we get under way the better.” - -By the time the meal had been dispatched and everything below made -ship-shape the tide had slackened. There was a light southerly breeze -which would enable the _Kestrel_ to romp full and bye up the Solent, -and, unless the wind changed in direction, would take her to Chichester -Bar without having to tack. It was now nine o’clock. High water at -Spithead would occur at four, and if the _Kestrel_ were to make the -rendezvous that day, she must arrive off the bar not later than five. - -All plain sail was set, the anchor was weighed, and then main and mizzen -topsails were sent aloft. Finally, the spinnaker was set with the tack -at the bowsprit-end. In fact, every stitch of canvas that could be set -was brought into use. - -It was a delightful sail. On the starboard hand the crew could enjoy a -close view of the well-wooded Isle of Wight, while to port they could -discern an expanse of the New Forest and the entrance to Southampton -Water. - -Through Cowes Roads the _Kestrel_ tore with wind and tide. Here they saw -for the first time the Mecca of the yachting world with its swarm of -pleasure craft of all sizes and types either anchored or under way. -Sailing yachts, motor craft, pleasure steamers thronged the Roads; while -further out liners, tramps, and warships added to this picture of -merchant activity. There were aeroplanes and flying boats manœuvring, -the latter “taking off” from the surface of the water with surprising -ease. - -Just abreast of the Old Castle Point buoy, Brandon called attention to a -couple of cutters, both of which flew the burgee with the _fleur de -lys_. They were on a converging course to that of the _Kestrel_, and in -all probability they would soon come within hailing distance. - -But Brandon did not wait for that. Producing a pair of hand flags, he -proceeded to semaphore the approaching craft. - -“They are Sea Scouts making for the Jamboree, sir,” he announced. “One -is from Poole, the other from Weymouth. I’ll ask them if they’ve seen -the _Merlin_ pass, since they brought up in Cowes Harbour last night.” - -The reply was in the negative; but, the Poole cutter’s signaller added, -a large motor yacht passed making for the east’ard with two Sea Scouts’ -galleys in tow. - -“It looks as if we’re going to be a merry party,” observed Symington. -“All roads lead to Chichester Harbour. . . . What’s that place, sir?” - -He pointed to a large building flanked by two towers and standing on a -hill covered with grass of a remarkably vivid hue. - -“That’s Osborne House,” replied the Scoutmaster. “It used to be a royal -residence. Queen Victoria died there. See that long pier ahead, Talbot? -That’s Ryde Pier. Steer to pass about a quarter of a mile from its head. -We’re moving, by Jove! At this rate we’ll soon make Chichester Harbour.” - -The three yachts were now almost in line, the _Kestrel_ being to -wind’ard. They were keeping practically level. If anything, the -_Kestrel_ was gaining slightly. - -“We’re showing them a clean pair of heels, sir!” remarked Talbot, with -no uncertain display of satisfaction. - -“Yes, because this wind suits us,” replied Mr. Grant. “If it headed us, -and we had to beat to wind’ard, they’d whack us hollow. A ketch is no -match for a cutter at that game, so I wouldn’t chip those fellows if I -were you. They might have the laugh of us before very long.” - -“There’s a rowing boat with a Scout flag over there, sir,” reported -Craddock. - -Mr. Grant levelled his glasses. A double-sculler manned by three lads in -Sea Scouts’ rig was coming out of Wootton Creek. She had just drawn -clear of the outer beacon and was pointing towards Ryde. - -“Surely those chaps aren’t going to the Jamboree,” remarked Peter. “Not -in that cockleshell.” - -“They’ve a lot of gear in the boat,” declared Mr. Grant. “I shouldn’t be -at all surprised if they are making for Chichester Harbour.” - -“It’s a long way to row,” added Brandon tentatively. - -“Down helm a bit,” ordered Mr. Grant. “We’ll see if they are bound -there. If so, we’ll offer them a tow.” - -Rapidly the _Kestrel_ overhauled the boat. The crew of the latter -continued to pull steadily. - -“Where are you bound?” hailed the Patrol Leader, as the ketch drew near. - -“Chichester.” - -“Want a tow?” - -“Yes, rather.” - -The oarsmen boated their oars, the bowman coiling up the painter ready -to make a cast. - -Brandon was too experienced to attempt to pick up the boat with the -_Kestrel_ going at such a speed. Making a wide sweep, he brought the -ketch head to wind within an oar’s length of the frail double-sculler. - -“Hadn’t we better get them all on board, sir?” enquired the Patrol -Leader. “The skiff will tow lighter and easier if we do.” - -In double quick time the three Sea Scouts boarded the _Kestrel_. Their -boat, with a double painter rove as a matter of precaution, was dropped -astern of the _Kestrel’s_ dinghy and the ketch was again put on her -former course. By this time the Weymouth and Pool cutters had drawn -ahead to a distance of nearly a quarter of a mile; but, sportsman-like, -they had backed their head-sails to enable the _Kestrel_ to recover her -lead. - -“You fellows looked like having a long pull,” remarked Craddock to the -three youths whose jerseys bore the inscription, “Third Wootton Bridge -Sea Scouts.” “Bit risky, isn’t it?” - -“We weren’t going to be out of it,” explained the Second. “Our Troop -left yesterday in the _Pixie_. We couldn’t get away. I work at a garage. -Jim, here, is at a baker’s; and Tim has a job at the yacht-yard. At the -last lap, so to speak, we got the time off, and Tim’s boss lent us this -double-sculler.” - -“You might have found yourselves in difficulties off Chichester Bar,” -observed Mr. Grant. “There’s often a nasty sea running there, I -believe.” - -“Yes, sir,” admitted the Second. “But we weren’t going to risk that in -that sort of boat. We were going to row as far as Ryde, where the -skipper of a motor tug promised to tow us across to Portsmouth.” - -“I don’t see how that would help you very much,” commented the -Scoutmaster. “You would still have to get into Chichester Harbour.” - -“Inland water all the way, sir,” declared the lad. “There’s a channel -between Portsmouth and Langston Harbour, and another between Langston -and Chichester. It’s all right for small boats, but you couldn’t do it -because of the bridges, unless you unship your masts.” - -Past a couple of “scrapped” monitors, the unwieldy appearance and huge -guns of which afforded considerable interest to the _Kestrel’s_ crew, -the ketch tore through the water. Off Ryde they sighted two other -craft—a yawl and a converted lifeboat—both of which bore the -distinguishing flag of the Sea Scout brotherhood. - -“Now, where do we make for, sir?” asked Brandon. - -“Steer for that fort,” replied Mr. Grant, indicating a circular -structure painted in black and yellow squares and rising sheer out of -the sea. - -“Is that a fort?” enquired Talbot. “It looks more like a gigantic -cheese. Why, there are two more!” - -“Yes, and we have to pass between the pair,” continued the Scoutmaster. -“See that low-lying belt of trees? That’s Hayling. The entrance to -Chichester Harbour is just beyond.” - -Presently half a dozen sailing craft were noticed on the port quarter. -These comprised the Portsmouth and Gosport contingent of Sea Scouts, -while astern a couple of motor launches each towing two whalers -announced their identity as part of Southampton’s representation at the -forthcoming Jamboree. - -By this time there were nearly twenty yachts and boats within a radius -of half a mile all making for a common point—the entrance to Chichester -Harbour. Many Sea Scout craft had already arrived. Others were on the -way, not only from the West, but from the East Coast. Provided the -weather held, the success of the Jamboree seemed assured. - -“Well, thank goodness we’re not leading the procession,” exclaimed Mr. -Grant. “I’ll gladly allow someone else to show us the way in. From all -accounts it’s a very tricky and badly marked entrance, so we must be -thankful we haven’t to grope and scrape over the Bar.” - -“I can’t see any entrance,” said Craddock. - -Viewed from seaward the coast-line appeared to consist of an unbroken -line of low-lying, sandy shore with a few houses and trees, extending -eastward as far as the eye could reach until only the tree-tops showed -above the horizon in the neighbourhood of Selsea Bill. Ahead, as the -_Kestrel_ was now pounding, were masses of white foam as the rollers -broke on the flat shoals of the dangerous Winners. Yet the leading craft -held unswervingly on their course, as if they meant to hurl themselves -to destruction upon those formidable surf-swept sandbanks. - -Presently a small white motor boat was sighted ahead and quite a mile -from the beach. She, too, displayed the Scout burgee, and as each -approaching craft drew level with her a uniformed official shouted -directions to the newcomers. - -“What yacht is that?” demanded the Commissioner as the _Kestrel_ drew -near. “Where are you from? Good. What’s your draught? Four feet; then -you’ve plenty of water. Keep close to the west shore inside the entrance -until you sight a buoy on your starboard hand. Then port helm and carry -on up the boomed channel.” - -“Ay, ay, sir!” replied Mr. Grant, and the motor boat forged ahead to -interview the next arrival and to tell her to heave-to until the tide -made sufficiently for her draught to cross the bar. - -“What a topping place!” exclaimed Craddock enthusiastically. - -His appreciation was justifiable; for, although the approach to -Chichester Harbour presents a dreary aspect, the view when once within -its shelter is superb; while the spacious land-locked expanse with its -three principal arms afforded miles of safe yet entrancing sailing. - -After following a well-marked channel for about three miles and making a -gentle bend to starboard, the leading craft began to reduce canvas. - -The _Kestrel_ followed suit; then a regular forest of masts appeared to -occupy the whole width of the waterway, while ashore a small village of -tents accommodated those Sea Scouts whom circumstances had prevented -from living and sleeping afloat. Conspicuous amongst the floating -community was a large yacht flying the characteristic burgee of the -Chief Sea Scout, and displaying the International Code Signal: -KY—“Anchor as convenient.” - -Five minutes later, the _Kestrel_ brought up on the fringe of the fleet -and well sheltered by the curving arms of a sandy bay. Eighty yards or -so away was a little pier fronting the lines of tents and affording -means of landing at any state of the tide. Canvas was then stowed and -ropes coiled away. Then for the first time the crew of the _Kestrel_ -were at leisure to take in the animated scene. - -Suddenly Heavitree turned and smacked Craddock on the shoulder. - -“Peter, old son!” he exclaimed joyously, “aren’t you thunderingly glad -you’re a Sea Scout?” - - - - - CHAPTER XXI - The Eve of the Jamboree - - -“I can’t see any sign of the _Merlin_,” declared Brandon, after scanning -the numerous craft at anchor. Already, during the last half-hour new -arrivals had taken up their berths, so that the _Kestrel_ was by no -means on the fringe of the fleet. - -“That’s strange,” rejoined Peter. “I wonder where she is?” - -“I’ll make enquiries,” said Mr. Grant, overhearing the conversation. “I -must go aboard the Chief Sea Scout’s yacht to report our arrival and -will find out whether the _Merlin_ has arrived. Bring the dinghy -alongside, please, Brandon.” - -The three Wootton Sea Scouts had taken their departure and were -alongside their parent craft when their arrival was greeted with -acclamation by their chums. - -Spic-and-span in their best jerseys, Brandon and Craddock manned the -dinghy and rowed their Scoutmaster to the flagship, which was surrounded -by a swarm of small boats and invaded by dozens of Scoutmasters -attending a conference on the programme for the next ten days. - -Having put Mr. Grant on board, Brandon and his chum “laid off,” keeping -their dinghy clear of the yacht’s accommodation ladder. Then they got -busy, “easing their jaw tackle,” to use a nautical expression, for the -crews of the various dinghies were holding an informal jamboree on their -own account and exchanging reminiscences. - -There could be little doubt that the great gathering of Sea Scouts would -turn out to be a huge success. Not only were the neighbouring Troops -well represented; some came from Great Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Grimsby, and -Hull, and even from far-off Aberdeen. From the West Coast, the Clyde was -well represented, as well as Troops from the Mersey, Pembroke, Swansea, -Cardiff, and Bristol. All these Troops were fortunate in possessing -fairly large and seaworthy craft, many of them “drifters” with auxiliary -motors. - -Other Sea Scouts living in inland districts—it may sound strange to -have to relate, but most efficient Troops have been formed at places on -various rivers—had not been deterred from appearing at the Jamboree. -Some of them—those from Nottingham, for example—had made the voyage by -canal as far as Godalming, completing the journey by having their -whalers placed on rail. Others, unable to make use of the inland -waterways, had come the whole way by rail; while one enterprising Troop -from Worcester had demonstrated how grit and ingenuity could surmount -almost any obstacle. - -Their craft was a 27-foot ex-naval whaler and was too long to be -accommodated on an ordinary railway goods truck. Besides, they were not -well off and could ill afford the expense. But they were determined to -be present at the Jamboree, and they were. They had constructed a -special carriage mounted on a pair of heavy motor-lorry wheels. This -they attached to the Scoutmaster’s car, placing the whaler on the -“cradle.” Some of the crew travelled in the boat; others by cycle, since -the lumbering vehicle could not go more than eight or ten miles an hour. -At night they slept in the boat, which was covered with a waterproof -awning. - -Others, possessing smaller boats, had trekked to the rendezvous; while -in many cases Troops had arrived without craft of any description and -were accommodated in tents. - -Not only was Great Britain well represented. There were contingents from -France, Belgium and Holland, and quite a strong Troop of hefty, -flaxen-haired, fair-complexioned Sea Scouts from Denmark, most of whom -spoke English and had already made the acquaintance of British Scouts at -the recent Copenhagen meeting. - -The organisation, too, was as perfect as human experience could devise. -One of the chief considerations, an ample supply of good drinking water, -was provided. There was an efficient transport service between the -landing-place and the city of Chichester, from whence provisions and -stores were obtained. Special precautions had been taken to provide a -safe bathing-place under strict supervision; while a proper postal -service had been instituted. - -This much and more Brandon and Craddock learnt from their new-found -chums, and apparently there was much forthcoming about which the lads -were as yet metaphorically “at sea.” - -In about half an hour, Mr. Grant appeared on deck and was rowed back to -the _Kestrel_. - -“The _Merlin_ hasn’t reported, lads,” he announced. “Perhaps she’s had -to put in somewhere. It’s no use expecting her this evening. There’s not -enough water on the Bar until to-morrow morning. Now, Eric, my lad, I -suppose the next thing to be done is to hand you over to your -relations.” - -“Surely, sir, there is no immediate hurry,” protested the stowaway. “If -you have no objection, perhaps I might be permitted to remain for part -of the impending entertainment? It occurred to me, sir, that I should -like very much to become a Sea Scout.” - -Mr. Grant turned to his crew. - -“What shall we say, lads?” he asked. - -There was a unanimous response in favour of Eric being allowed to stop -on board. In spite of his old-fashioned ways, the boy had made himself -well liked. - -“Very well, then,” agreed the Scoutmaster. “I’ll run into Chichester -to-morrow morning and see your uncle. But I’m afraid we can’t make you a -Sea Scout. You’re not old enough, Eric; but there’s no reason why you -shouldn’t become a Cub, and then when you are old enough you can become -a Scout. Now, lads, who’s for the shore? A good sharp tramp is the -thing. One of you must remain on board. Who’ll volunteer?” - -Talbot said he would. - -“Good man!” exclaimed Mr. Grant. “Keep a smart look-out for signals from -the Chief Sea Scout’s yacht. That’s about all, I think. By the by, we’ll -have to patch up the dinghy’s gunwale to-morrow. It looks a bit of a -wreck.” - -With the exception of the volunteer ship-keeper, all hands went ashore, -leaving the dinghy on the hard. Proceeding between the avenue of tents -where swarms of Sea Scouts were in various stages of “getting all -ship-shape,” they gained the open country—a flat but rather pleasing -bit of Sussex lying between the harbour and the open sea. - -“How firm the sand is!” exclaimed Carline when the lads gained the -seashore. “Look! There are fellows riding bicycles on it.” - -“And isn’t the tide out?” added Wilson. “When we came in there weren’t -any shoals showing.” - -“That’s why we had to choose high-water,” remarked Mr. Grant. “Those -shoals, although consisting of sand, are quite as dangerous as rocks. A -vessel might be pounded to bits in a few minutes if she chanced to get -ashore in heavy weather. There’s hardly any wind this evening—it’s -almost a flat calm—but you can see the rollers breaking on the exposed -edge of the shoals. This harbour happens to be the worst beaconed on the -south coast, and in some respects one of the most dangerous ones. If it -comes on to blow for any length of time, we might be kept here for a -month.” - -“How jolly that would be!” exclaimed Wilson. - -“I’m afraid you’d feel rather fed-up before the month had passed,” -observed the Scoutmaster. “Any place, however much it appeals to you at -first, becomes positively irksome if you’re kept there against your -inclinations. Well, there’s no sign of the _Merlin_ in the offing. It’s -a pity, because it looks as if she won’t be able to take part in the -opening sailing race to-morrow afternoon for the Silver Cup.” - -“Are we racing, sir?” asked Craddock eagerly. - -“Rather.” - -“Good egg, sir!” exclaimed Peter. - -“Time to be on our return journey,” observed Mr. Grant, consulting his -wristlet watch. “We must be on board before sunset.” - -His listeners wondered why. They soon found out; for on returning to the -_Kestrel_ they noticed the Sea Scouts on the various craft mustered on -deck. A bugle sounded. Everyone stood at the Alert, while a forest of -burgees and ensigns fluttered to their respective decks. Then in the -gathering gloom innumerable riding-lights were hoisted in position. - -It was the eve of the Jamboree. - - - - - CHAPTER XXII - The Race for the Cup - - -Punctually at 1.45 on the following afternoon the eventful race for the -Silver Cup started. Nine yachts, each measuring thirty feet or more on -the water-line, were towed into position and anchored. There they swung -to the weak flood tide with canvas stowed just as if they had -“brought-up” for the rest of the day. - -On board the _Kestrel_, the third from the starboard end of the line, -four very serious Sea Scouts, with Mr. Grant in command, sat -breathlessly waiting for the starting gun. Although the conditions -governing the race were new to them—in the old _Puffin_ they had always -had a flying start following a five-minute gun—they realised they had a -fighting chance provided they did their very best and did not bungle; -for not until after the races were completed would the name of the -winning yacht be known. That was one of the surprises of racing under a -sealed handicap. - -“Fifty seconds!” announced Mr. Grant calmly. “Stand by! Fifty-five . . . -fifty-six . . . fifty-seven . . . fifty-eight . . . fifty-nine. . . .” - -“Bang!” - -Simultaneously with the flash of the starting gun the hitherto -practically motionless crews of the competing craft were figuratively -galvanised into activity. In as short a time as possible, the bare poles -would be hidden by the towering canvas, anchors would be weighed, and -the vessels would leap forward on the determined contest. - -On board the _Kestrel_, although her crew had had plenty of practice in -getting under way, they had not had to take into consideration the fact -that at a few yards’ distance on either side other crews were doing the -same thing. Besides, they were short-handed, five being the maximum -number allowed. The rest of the _Kestrel’s_ complement were ashore, -where, in common with several hundred Sea Scouts and other spectators, -they were yelling themselves hoarse with excitement. - -Brandon and Craddock, casting off the tyers, hauled away at main and -peak halliards. Heavitree and Carline ran for’ard to attach the foresail -to the forestay by means of the hanks, and to run the jib out on the -bowsprit ready to hoist. By the time the mainsail was set Heavitree, who -was chosen for this particular work by reason of his strength, broke out -the anchor and got it inboard. - -Simultaneously with the racing of the anchor, Mr. Grant put the helm -hard-a-starboard, Brandon tended the mainsheet, while the two hands -for’ard set both jib and staysail. - -As soon as the _Kestrel_ forged ahead, Peter and the Patrol Leader set -and trimmed the mizzen. This done, all hands went quietly to their -racing station and awaited orders. - -Now for the first time since the starting gun Peter was able to take -notice of what the other competing yachts were doing. Smart though the -_Kestrel’s_ crew had been in getting under way, there were two craft -which had executed the manœuvre in quicker time and already had -established a useful lead. One was a centre-board cutter from the -Humber, a wholesome looking craft; the other, also a cutter, belonging -to a Plymouth Troop. Slightly to lee’ard, and with her hands still -engaged in sheeting home their canvas, was a Poole ex-fishing boat -rather noted for her speed and weatherly qualities. A few yards astern -was a deep-draughted Bristol pilot cutter. Apparently she had trouble -with her peak-halliard blocks, and a couple of Sea Scouts were swarming -aloft to set things right. - -All these craft were close-hauled on the starboard tack. The rest of the -competitors, including two who had collided at the start, were heading -towards the Bosham side of the channel. - -So far so well. Peter had never known the _Kestrel_ to move so fast in -such a light wind. For one thing, she was no longer hampered by her -dinghy. That impediment was for the present unnecessary and had been -left ashore. - -But clean-heeled though the _Kestrel_ was, there were others who were -faster. Although Mr. Grant, by keeping her “full,” got the very best out -of the yacht, she could neither point so high nor travel as fast as two -of the cutters. - -On the fore-deck of the _Kestrel_, Heavitree lay motionless, keeping -well down to minimise wind-resistance. The rest of the crew stationed -aft were as silent and immobile as statues. They realised that the race -was not a game. It was something that required every effort of mind and -body on the part of each member of the crew. Even to move about -unnecessarily might mean the loss of the race, for even in a craft of -the size of the _Kestrel_ it would be adversely sensitive to the -alteration of “trim” should any of the crew begin “jumping about.” - -Now the leading yacht on the starboard tack was nearing the edge of the -deep-water channel. She drew more than the _Kestrel_, and the problem -that confronted Mr. Grant was whether to put the helm down at once, or, -taking advantage of the _Kestrel’s_ smaller draught, carry on and pass -astern and consequently to wind’ard of his antagonist. He had to make up -his mind quickly. He realised, too, that against the flood tide he might -find slack water, or even a counter-eddy close to the hidden mud-flat. - -He chose the latter alternative. - -“Stand by to go about!” he ordered; then “Lee-o!” - -Quickly yet deliberately Brandon let the head-sheets fly. Round came the -_Kestrel_ slowly yet surely, shooting ahead in the slack water and -actually overlapping the leading cutter. But the advantage was only -temporary, although it counted in the long run. Unable to point as high -as his rival, the _Kestrel’s_ speed diminished. The only possible course -was to up-helm slightly and to romp under the Humber yacht’s lee. - -Meanwhile the Plymouth vessel had gone about and was making short but -useful tacks; while the Bristol yacht, holding on too long, was aground -with her crew feverishly working in an attempt to get her off. - -Half-way across the Channel, the _Kestrel_, now on the port tack, met -the competing craft, which had made for the northern side of the -fairway. By the “rules of the road” she had to give way. Now came the -test of the helmsman’s skill and sound judgment. The slightest error -might result in disaster, for which the _Kestrel_ would be blamed. Even -the faintest contact between her and one of the yachts on the starboard -tack would disqualify her. In addition there were two boats abeam of her -and two more astern. No need to worry about the last two. They had to -avoid those ahead as well as those converging on the opposite tack. - -The _Kestrel_ passed the first of the starboard-tack boats at less than -a couple of yards to lee’ard. For a brief instant, as the lowering -canvas of the latter blanketed the wind, the _Kestrel_ recovered from -her heel; her sails shivered, the mainsheet sagged. Then at the next -moment she staggered as she felt the full force of the breeze, and, -luffing, shot magnificently across the bows of the next competitor. - -It was exhilarating work. Even in that land-locked harbour, the dead -beat to wind’ard with a weather-going tide sent the spindrift flying -over the bows. Yet the disconcerting fact was now apparent. The -_Kestrel_, owing to her rig and generous amount of deadwood fore and -aft, was hopelessly out of it against the performance of most of her -competitors in the thrash to wind’ard. She could only hold on gamely. -Even the Bristol boat was afloat once more and was tearing along in -grand style. Astern a Dover yacht was in difficulties with a torn jib; -while a Newhaven yawl and a Grimsby cutter, both under-canvassed, were -indulging in a ding-dong race on their own account. - -At twenty minutes from the start the two leading competitors were -rounding the mark buoy. The _Kestrel_ was still a good two hundred yards -from it. Four other boats, bunched together, were bearing down on the -port tack for the turning-point. - -As luck would have it the second boat’s bowsprit was almost level with -the leader’s counter as they prepared to go about at the mark buoy. This -is what is termed “establishing an overlap,” and the second craft has -the right to hail the other to give her more room. If, however, there is -no overlap the leading craft can carry on, leaving the other to get out -of her way and pass outside her. - -At this critical moment a collision occurred. The leading yacht, with -her mainsail ripped, fell away, leaving the second with her bowsprit -smashed off close to the stem-head and her jib trailing in the water. - -“Rough luck!” commented the sportsman-like Craddock. “They’re out of -it.” - -But Peter was wrong. The yacht with the damaged bowsprit was -automatically disqualified; but the other, in spite of the sorry -condition of her mainsail, bore away and continued to race. - -Presently it was the _Kestrel’s_ turn to round the mark buoy. She had it -all to herself, for the bunch of four were already on the homeward run, -while the remaining two competitors were well astern. - -“Stand by!” cautioned Mr. Grant. “Ready with the spinnaker!” - -Moving as softly as cats, Carline and Heavitree prepared the halliards -and out-haul of the spinnaker. Round swept the _Kestrel_, making the -mark buoy curtsey in her wash. Over flew the boom in a deliberate gybe. - -“Up spinnaker!” ordered the Scoutmaster. - -In double quick time the huge but light triangular sail was set and -sheeted home. Now the _Kestrel_ was at her best. Running was her strong -point. The foam frothed at her cut-water and trailed astern in an -ever-diverging double wake. In five minutes she had overtaken the partly -crippled Plymouth cutter, the crew of which, far from being dismayed, -had also set spinnaker. She was making a gallant fight against long -odds, and the _Kestrel’s_ crew broke a prolonged silence by giving the -West Country Sea Scouts a rousing cheer. - -A stern chase is proverbially a long one, but slowly yet surely the -_Kestrel_ was decreasing the distance between the now straggling -procession of leading boats. The task entailed ceaseless vigilance on -the part of the Scoutmaster. An accidental gybe at this state of the -proceedings would be disastrous. In all probability the _Kestrel’s_ -mainmast would be carried away, but in any case the mainsail would mask -the spinnaker and deprive it of its pulling power. - -At the last bend, which was so gentle that there was no necessity to -gybe and reset the spinnaker, the _Kestrel_ was fourth. A Poole boat, -staggering under a press of bellying sail, was leading. Following her -came the centre-keeled Humber cutter, the crew of which had set a large -square sail in addition to their working canvas. Next the Bristol boat, -which, having made good following her temporary grounding, had failed to -maintain her advantage while running. - -Less than a quarter of a mile ahead could be seen the anchored boat that -marked one end of the finishing line. The distance was too short to -enable the _Kestrel_ to overhaul the remaining three ahead. True, she -drew level with the Bristol cutter; but, impeded by the far-flung bow -wave of the latter, she was unable to continue her advantage. Yet the -pace was terrific. Peter found himself wondering what would happen when -the competing yacht crossed the line. There seemed no room to turn owing -to the crowd of anchored yachts and boats beyond. - -“Stand by!” cautioned Mr. Grant crisply. - -Bang! went the gun for the foremost yacht. Five seconds later another -report greeted the arrival of the second. Then, almost simultaneously, -the gun fired twice. - -“Down spinnaker!” - -No need for cautious movements now. Down came the clouds of light -canvas. The spinnaker boom was topped up in double quick time. Over went -the helm. Brandon and Craddock hauled away on the mainsheet. Heeling, -the _Kestrel_ turned into the wind, shot clear of the course, and -dropped anchor almost in her former berth. - -“It’s been a thundering good race,” declared Mr. Grant, moistening his -parched lips; for now that the ordeal was over his tongue felt -unpleasantly dry. “Signal to Talbot and the others and tell them to come -aboard. We’ll get tea. Hello! There’s the _Merlin_. When did she arrive, -I wonder?” - -The Falmouth Sea Scouts had brought up about a hundred yards from the -_Kestrel_, and several other craft lay at anchor between them. Without a -dinghy, Mr. Grant could not pay her a visit, although all on board the -_Kestrel_ were naturally curious to know what had happened to her. - -Presently Symington, Talbot and Wilson, and Eric Little, together with -the pup, came alongside. - -“I say, sir!” exclaimed Talbot eagerly. “Can we enter for the ex-service -boats’ rowing match? We’ve been talking to some Portsmouth Sea Scouts. -They say they’ll lend us a gig, if we like to have a shot.” - -“Certainly,” replied Mr. Grant, although he knew that his lads, -unaccustomed to pulling a heavy four-oared boat and a strange one at -that, stood a poor chance of securing a win. “Row ashore and accept the -offer, and then hurry back for tea. What time does the race start? Six? -Good!” - -Talbot had been gone only a few minutes when Craddock reported that the -flagship was making a general signal. - -“They’re about to announce the result of the race,” he added. “I’ve -hoisted our answering pennant, sir.” - -Already a number of red and white pennants hoisted “at the dip”—that -is, half-way up—indicated that the various craft concerned were ready -to receive the impending signal. - -“Code flag over M, sir,” reported Craddock. “They going to give the -winning numbers.” - -The first number—represented by the code letter G—indicated that No. 7 -was the winner of the cup. That showed that the coveted trophy had been -carried off by the Poole Sea Scouts, who had not only actually come in -first, but were first also on handicap. - -When the second number went up, Craddock gave a whoop of delight, while -the rest of the crew almost fell over themselves with excitement. - -The _Kestrel_ had won the second prize, but only by the narrow margin of -five seconds. - - - - - CHAPTER XXIII - A Dead Heat - - -The _Kestrel’s_ crew had only just finished their much-appreciated tea -when the _Merlin’s_ dinghy came alongside. - -“Hello, Pendennis!” exclaimed Mr. Grant, going on deck to receive his -visitor. “What happened to you?” - -“A slice of bad luck,” replied the Cornishman. “Our anchor tripped -during the night when we lay off Newtown. When we turned out we found -ourselves bumping on Warden Ledge. We must have drifted nearly seven -miles without knowing it. Then, in trying to get off, we strained one of -our propeller blades and had to put into Yarmouth to get it -straightened. After that we came on here.” - -“And when did you arrive?” - -“Early this morning,” replied Mr. Pendennis. “In fact, so early that you -lazy fellows were fast asleep. We felt tempted to give you a hail. -Heartiest congratulations, Grant, in getting second in that race.” - -“Thanks. Sorry you didn’t compete.” - -The Cornishman smiled. - -“My lads were a bit fagged out,” he replied. “We’ve stood some long -tricks this trip. ’Sides, they’re keen on the ex-Service boats’ pulling -race and are conserving their strength for that event.” - -“We’re entering, too, sir,” announced Talbot. - -“The more the merrier,” rejoined Mr. Pendennis. - -While the two Scoutmasters were chatting upon various subjects relating -to the Jamboree the rest of the _Kestrel’s_ crew went ashore to complete -their preparations. - -The Portsmouth Sea Scouts were as good as their word, for quite a -serviceable gig was hauled up on the hard for the _Kestrel_ lads’ use. -More than a dozen other ex-Service boats were also out of the water, -their respective crews busily engaged in making ready for the fray or, -rather, contest. - -“What’s that stuff you’re putting on?” enquired Craddock of a lad who -hailed from Pembroke. - -“Black lead, look you,” replied the young Welshman. “Want some? We have -plenty, look you.” - -Seeing that several of the competing boats were being treated in a -similar fashion, Peter accepted the generous offer and soon the bottom -of the borrowed gig was shining in a coat of black lead thinned down -with stale beer—a preparation which, although filthy to handle, is in -high favour amongst rowers of racing craft. - -As soon as the _Kestrel’s_ crew had applied the “dope,” the gig was -uprighted and a thorough examination made of her oars and stretchers. -Craddock, as coxswain of the boat, meant to leave little to chance, -although he was quite aware of the disadvantage of racing in a strange -craft without even the opportunity of having a preliminary practice. -But, he reflected sagely, there were other crews similarly handicapped. - -Just before six o’clock fourteen boats faced the starter. By this time -the ebb-tide was running strongly against a steady sou’westerly breeze, -with the result that farther down the main channel there was quite a sea -running. - -“Back there, No. 5!” shouted the somewhat harassed starter through a -megaphone. - -No. 5’s crew dropped their oars and obediently “toed the line.” They -were hefty, bronzed-featured lads from Margate. It was their first race, -and in consequence they were a bit excited. - -“Tough lot, aren’t they?” remarked Heavitree, stroke of the _Kestrel’s_ -gig, as he moistened the loom of his oar with salt water. - -“Eyes on the boat,” cautioned Peter. “Stand by!” - -The starting gun crashed. Fifty-six backs bent to the first stroke; -fifty-six oars dipped almost as one, and the fourteen competing boats -leapt forward, the coxswains shouting encouragement to their men. - -For the first hundred yards the line retained its comparative -straightness, but already some of the rowers were splashing -unnecessarily, and they lost their “first wind,” and hadn’t begun to -find their second. - -Then five of the boats shot ahead, amongst them the _Kestrel’s_ borrowed -gig. Her crew were working with a will and getting every ounce of power -out of their backs and legs. They had a style about them, and Peter, as -he watched their long, steady, and regular strokes, felt proud of his -chums. - -Glancing out of the corner of his eye, Craddock noticed that the -Nottingham Sea Scouts’ boat was level on her starboard beam. Her crew, -admirably trained, were rowing with the regularity of clockwork. -Instinctively, Peter felt that here was a rival to be treated with -respect. - -To port, No. 7—the Pembroke crowd—was forging ahead. The crew were -rowing a quicker stroke, but would they last? On the extreme left, No. -14, the Whitby boat, had already established a useful lead. Although -losing the advantage of the ebb-tide she was in smoother water close to -the bank, but at the first bend that advantage would be lost. - -Yet, Peter knew, there was little to be judged by position at this -stage. It was the stayer, not the spurter, who seemed most likely to -lead the procession over the finishing line. - -He looked at his crew. They were bearing up bravely. Talbot looked a -little flustered, but was still rowing strongly. None of them had -reached the gasping stage yet, although rivulets of perspiration -trickled unhindered down their faces. - -At the first bend the competitors met the full force of the wind ’gainst -tide. The lean bows of the boat threw apart showers of spray, as the -knife-like stem cleft the curling waves. - -It was here that the Nottingham lads found themselves handicapped. Used -to pulling in a river, they had never had the opportunity of rowing in a -fairly high seaway. Their style, admirable in smooth water, was at a -decided disadvantage in this “popple.” More than once “bow” missed his -stroke, his blade encountering nothing more resistant than air as the -boat rose on the crest of a short, steep wave. - -“We’re overhauling her all right,” thought Peter. - -Five lengths ahead the Portsmouth Sea Scouts were leading. Pulling -splendidly, they were steadily increasing their lead, when misfortune -descended upon them. “Stroke’s” oar broke just above the blade. The lad, -falling backwards, temporarily put No. 3 out of action. By the time the -latter had recovered and resumed his oar, the boat had dropped to the -seventh place. Nevertheless under extremely adverse conditions the lads -continued their gallant struggle, the oarless “stroke” sitting up and -moving with the rest to preserve the rhythm of the swing. - -The mark buoy at last! - -“Back, port! Pull, starboard!” ordered Peter. Round swung the gig, -rolling as she swung broadside to the weather-going tide. - -“Together!” - -Now came the strenuous part of the whole race—the last lap. The -_Kestrels_ were visibly tiring. Even Heavitree’s Adam’s apple was -working convulsively, while the veins in his bared arms stood out like -whipcord. Talbot, looking utterly blown, was pulling almost -mechanically, gasping through his wide open mouth in his efforts to fill -his painfully stifled lungs. - -There was but one boat ahead. That was the Pembroke one. The Welshmen -were in a far worse plight than Craddock’s crew. They had let themselves -go at the start, and were reaping the consequences; yet they, too, were -“sticking it” with the fervid tenacity of their race. - -For the present Peter dare not call upon his loyal crew for an extra -spurt. They were gaining all the time, yet without the final and -spectacular burst they would not be able to overlap their rivals. And, -of course, the Welshmen would almost certainly respond. - -Three hundred yards from home the _Kestrel’s_ gig’s bows were level with -the Pembroke boat’s stern. The coxswain of the latter could be heard -calling to his men for the final effort. It was now Peter’s chance, -provided his jaded crew could respond to it. - -“Whack her up, lads!” he shouted. “Last lap!” - -Both boats were now in calmer waters. Nobly the _Kestrels_ responded to -their coxswain’s call. Blinded with perspiration, with bursting lungs -and violently throbbing hearts, aching muscles and blistered palms, they -were unconscious of everything but the desire to make that extra spurt. - -Now they were dead level with the Welshmen. - -“Keep it up, lads!” yelled Peter. - -That was as much as they could do. To increase the number of strokes was -out of the question. They were perilously close to the breaking-point. -Could they stay the course? - -The _Kestrel’s_ gig drew ahead. The Pembroke coxswain in a shrill -falsetto called upon his men for a final effort. They tried. There was a -sharp crack. One of their stretchers had broken. - -“Hard lines on them,” thought Peter. “But we were winning, anyway.” - -Then for the first time on the homeward run Craddock glanced over his -shoulder. He had a shock. The nearest of the remaining competitors was -quite five lengths astern. Nothing short of a disaster to the -_Kestrel’s_ gig would give any of the boats astern a chance to overtake -her now, for the finishing line was less than eighty yards ahead. - -But—and that it was that gave Peter a most disconcerting jar—close to -the edge of the channel and out of the full force of the adverse tide -was the Nottingham boat. - -By dint of sheer doggedness she had fought her way through the choppy -sea. Then, edging over towards the mud-flats, she found herself under -conditions very similar to that of her native Trent. The Nottingham Sea -Scouts, admirably trained and in the pink of condition, were not slow to -take advantage of the change of fortune. They were now almost level with -Craddock’s crew, although separated by about fifty yards of water. - -“Pull, lads, pull!” shouted Peter. “For all you’re worth!” - -The spirit was willing, but exhausted flesh was unable to respond to the -dictates of the brain. Gallantly the crew bent their aching backs, -tugging ferociously at the tough ash oars. Then Talbot missed a stroke, -the badly trimmed blade slithering ineffectually on the surface. - -Before the lad could recover his stroke the gun went. - -“Way ’nough!” gulped Peter, and the thoroughly exhausted rowers -collapsed, sobbing in their efforts to recharge their bursting lungs. - -Completely bewildered, Peter looked in the direction of the Nottingham -boat. She was over the line, her crew paddling easily towards the -flagship. The _Kestrel’s_ gig was also across the line—but there had -been only one gun. What did it mean? - -Everyone in the anchored yachts seemed to be cheering. So were the crowd -on the beach. Then another competing boat crossed the line with her crew -on the verge of utter exhaustion. They received a gun. - -Still puzzled, Craddock was dimly aware of the _Kestrel’s_ dinghy coming -alongside and of Mr. Grant leaning over the gunwale and patting him on -the back. - -“Well rowed!” exclaimed the Scoutmaster. “Well rowed! Dead heat with the -_Avalon_. Let’s have your painter; we’ll tow you to the beach. Yes, by -Jove! you’ve tied with that crack Nottingham crew, and honestly I never -expected you to have a look-in. Well done!” - - - - - CHAPTER XXIV - Snatched from the Deep - - -For three consecutive days the weather remained bright and with very -little wind. It was ideal conditions for almost every event except -sailing. The Sea Scouts held greasy pole competitions, swimming races, -diving contests, and a great water tournament. - -The latter event was great fun and turned out to be a huge success. -There were forty competitors a side, most of them in fancy dress. Each -member of the opposing teams was “mounted” on a barrel to which was -affixed a rough representation of a horse’s head, the cask being -ballasted sufficiently to enable the rider to keep his balance if he -used the utmost caution. The offensive weapons consisted of poles ten -feet in length terminating in a well-padded ball of rags or oakum, and -also of short sticks to which were attached blown-up bladders. - -Every evening almost every member of the numerous crews went ashore for -a camp-fire sing-song, while at various times there were competitions in -making bends and splices and other nautical accomplishments. - -At the close of the fourth day’s sing-song and after most of the -audience had dispersed, Mr. Grant sent Craddock to the wireless tent -with a message for the Scoutmaster in charge. - -Arriving at the tent, which was merely for the purpose of keeping the -four-valve receiving set in the dry—for when a broadcast concert was -on, the sides of the tent were rolled up and the loud speaker brought -into the open—Peter found that the Scoutmaster he sought had gone -across to the electrician’s quarter in order to arrange about recharging -some batteries. - -“He won’t be long,” added his informant, a King’s Scout belonging to a -Berwick Troop. “Try one of these phones while you’re waiting and see -what you can pick up. It will only be Morse on the lower wave-lengths, I -fancy. Can you read Morse?” - -“Rather,” replied Peter. - -“Guess you won’t make head or tail of this lot unless you’ve been -trained to it,” continued the Berwick lad. “We had a skilled postal -telegraphist in last night, and he was whacked. But you can try.” - -Craddock put on the head-phones, listened for about twenty seconds, and -then turned to his companion. - -“There’s an S.O.S.,” he declared. - -“Nonsense!” retorted the other incredulously. “It will be Niton calling -CQ. You’re not the first to imagine an S.O.S.” - -Nevertheless the Berwick Sea Scout took up another pair of phones. He -listened and his smile of incredulity vanished. Snatching up a pencil, -he wrote rapidly. - -Peter, too, tried to follow the bewildering succession of perplexing -sounds and could not make head or tail of it. He had to wait until his -companion had taken down the message and a reply to it. - -The S.O.S. was to the effect that the S.S. _Lumberjack_ was badly -grounded in a thick fog, position approximately six miles north-west of -Selsea Bill, and that she was rapidly breaking up in the heavy ground -swell. - -The reply was: “Hayling Island and Bembridge lifeboats proceeding to -your assistance. Have requested Government tugs to be sent from -Portsmouth.” - -The _Lumberjack_ then wirelessed: “Must take to boats.” Followed by a -warning from the shore station: “Do not attempt to land in your boats.” - -Then came the distressed vessel’s final and uncompleted appeal: “Send -help quickly. We are——” - -Craddock did not wait for the Scoutmaster’s return. In fact, he rather -surprised the Berwick lad by his abrupt and hasty departure. He took to -his heels and ran as fast as he could to Mr. Grant and told him the -news. - -“The _Lumberjack_ is the tramp we were lying close to at Dartmouth,” he -added. - -“Yes,” replied Mr. Grant. “And judging by her reported position she’s -aground not far from the mouth of this harbour. I don’t suppose we’ll be -of much use, but we’ll see what’s to be done. Get the patrol together, -Brandon. See that we’ve first aid outfits, and bring a coil of two-inch -rope along. Warn any Scoutmasters you pass on your way to the store, but -I think most of them will have heard of it already.” - -It was now nearly half-past ten. The heavy sea fog had held all the -evening and was now spreading inland, promising to get thicker before -very long. Overhead the stars were rapidly disappearing from view. The -air was perfectly still, yet even at that distance the muffled roar of -the surf on Chichester Bar and the adjoining Pole Sand could be -distinctly heard. - -In remarkably quick time the _Kestrel’s_ crew assembled. Most of them -had electric torches. Heavitree had brought a lifebelt, while Brandon -had got hold of not only a long length of two-inch rope, but also a -useful coil of heaving line. - -“Couldn’t we run the dinghy over on a trek-cart, sir?” asked Talbot. - -Mr. Grant shook his head. - -“It would be useless,” he decided. “You’ve seen the breakers on that -flat, sandy shore. No boat could possibly be launched in that turmoil. -All ready?” - -The crew set out. They were not alone, for already various Scoutmasters -had called out their Troops in order to patrol the beach in case any of -the _Lumberjack’s_ people were cast ashore. - -By this time the fog over the land had thickened considerably. It was -hardly possible to see the outlines of the hedges on either side of the -narrow lanes, and in the darkness the only way to find the right road -was for a Sea Scout to swarm up the various sign-posts and flash his -torch upon the painted directions. Unfortunately all the would-be -rescuers took the same route, with the result that when they arrived on -the beach they were all bunched together, instead of being spread out -over a wide front. - -They could see-nothing; hear nothing but the thunder of the breakers in -the still air. Mr. Grant realised the difficulty. Each Scoutmaster had -control over his own Troop, but there was no one to exercise authority -over the whole. - -“Isn’t there any District Commissioner here?” he enquired of another -Scoutmaster. “If so, he ought to take charge. We’re doing little good -huddled together. Survivors might be thrown ashore anywhere between the -mouth of the harbour and Selsea Bill.” - -“That’s a fact,” agreed the other Scoutmaster. “Hello! Here’s a car. -Perhaps——” - -The rays of the headlights seemed to stop short within a few yards of -the car, which had stopped almost at the extreme edge of the hard -ground. Another four or five feet and the wheels would have sunk in the -soft sand above high-water mark. - -Mr. Grant went to the side of the car. He saw with feelings of -satisfaction that one of the occupants wore the distinctive rig of a -District Commissioner. - -“Glad you’ve come, sir,” he began. “We want someone to straighten things -out.” - -He explained. The Commissioner, a retired Army officer, grasped the -situation at once. His powerful voice pierced the fog. In five minutes, -discipline had remedied the defect of individual initiative, and from a -fixed point patrols were extending right and left with an interval of -ten paces between each Sea Scout. Even at that short distance each -watcher was invisible to his nearest neighbour, but they were within -easy hailing distance, so that communication throughout the whole -line—there were about 250 Sea Scouts spread over a front of nearly one -and a half miles—could be maintained without difficulty. - -The crew of the _Kestrel_ found themselves in patrol formation stepping -out briskly over the board-hard sand just above low-water mark. There -were Troops ahead of them and behind them. At every half-minute came -crisp orders from the Scoutmasters of the rearmost parties; until, -glancing over his shoulder, Mr. Grant discovered that the patrol -immediately behind the _Kestrel’s_ crew had extended and halted. - -It was now the turn of the Aberstour Sea Scouts. Talbot halted and faced -seawards; the rest continued their march, Symington halting at the tenth -pace and so on, until the Patrol Leader found himself on the right of -his section of the line. - -It was an awesome business standing still and peering through the fog at -the misty white surf as it broke and receded almost within a couple of -yards of the watchers. All of them were already drenched with the flying -spray, and although the salt water felt quite warm at first, a -succession of shower baths soon became not only monotonous but extremely -unpleasant. What was happening out to sea they knew not. They could only -conjure up mental pictures of the struggle for life on the part of the -shipwrecked crew as their crazy, ill-conditioned craft was being rapidly -battered into scrap-iron somewhere within a mile of one section of that -far-flung line of would-be lifesavers. - -Presently Brandon hailed his chum. - -“Have you got Molly?” he enquired. - -“Yes,” replied Peter, who was holding the pup in his arms. “She’s with -me, but she’s got the wind up frightfully.” - -“We ought to have left her on board,” continued the Patrol Leader. - -“There wasn’t time,” rejoined Craddock. - -“’Sides, she’d be far more terrified if she’d been left by herself.” - -Another ten minutes passed. Then the Scoutmaster of the Troop on the -_Kestrel’s_ right came up to Mr. Grant. - -“There’s a boat come ashore,” he reported. “She was full of water and -capsized as she was thrown on the beach. The Weymouth Troop have found -eight of the crew. Two of them are dead. There are a lot more to be -accounted for. Pass the information along, please.” - -Presently from the left came the order, “Increase interval by four -paces.” - -This was to fill up the gap left by the Weymouth Sea Scouts, who, being -engaged in the task of restoring to life the apparently drowned members -of the _Lumberjack’s_ crew, had left their section of the shore -unwatched. Already they were carrying some of the survivors away in -hastily constructed stretchers to the shelter of an isolated farm-house. - -“Well, that looks like business, lads,” commented Mr. Grant, as he -passed behind the line. “There are others still to come ashore. Keep a -smart look-out.” - -It was easier said than done, so thick was the fog, although the stars -were beginning to show overhead through the low-lying bank of salt-laden -vapour. - -Suddenly, Molly began to bark furiously and struggled so fiercely that -Peter placed him on the sand. Instantly she darted towards the water’s -edge, and although she retreated when the next breaker swept forward, -she followed up the receding wave and continued to bark. - -Simultaneously Brandon and Craddock rushed forward. They were within ten -feet of each other before they discovered each other’s presence. - -“What is it?” asked the Patrol Leader. - -“Molly’s spotted something,” replied Peter. “Look! It’s a life-buoy.” - -The next wave brought the buoy almost to Craddock’s feet, although he -had to go knee-deep into the retiring “undertow” before he could secure -it. - -The canvas of the life-buoy was ripped in several places, and most of -the rope that ought to be attached to it was missing; but painted on it -in black letters was the name “S.S. _Lumberjack_.” - -Hurling the life-buoy out of the way of the breaking waves, Brandon was -about to resume his post when Craddock shouted to him. - - - - -[Illustration: Returning Good for Evil - Masses of milk-white foam were swirling round his legs; he could see - that the succeeding wave would be upon him before he could get into - deeper water. If it caught him squarely it would hurl him like a stone - upon the beach, and probably batter the breath from his body.] - -“Where’s the line?” he asked. “There’s a man out there. Look out for -Molly.” - -At that moment Mr. Grant and Carline appeared through the fog. Already -Peter was securing one end of the rope round his waist. - -“Look after Molly,” he reiterated. “She’ll be after me if you don’t.” -And, handing the coiled portion of the rope to Mr. Grant and Brandon, -Craddock rushed into the water. - -For the first ten yards his progress was hastened by the undertow. -Masses of milk-white foam mingled with moving sand were swirling round -his legs and urging him on. He could see that the succeeding breaker -would be upon him before he could get into deeper water. If it caught -him squarely it would hurl him like a stone upon the beach, and probably -batter the breath from his body. - -The crest towered high above his head. It was almost upon him. But Peter -kept a cool head. As the wave broke, he dived into it, felt himself -being borne backwards, was conscious of his feet coming in contact with -the ground. He wanted to kick, to leap until his head appeared above the -surging torrent. He felt he could keep his breath no longer. - -At last he broke surface and found himself beyond the breaker. He struck -out vigorously. Found himself impeded. - -“Pay out more line, you fellows!” he shouted. - -He might well have saved his breath, for his voice was inaudible in the -roar of the surf. It wasn’t that Brandon had neglected to give more -scope to the line; it was the drag of the water against it. - -There was no sign of the man he was risking his life to save. Another -wave came up, foaming ready to break. Peter surmounted it just before -the angry crest toppled over. As he did so something was thrown against -his side—something that felt like a sack of saturated sawdust. - -Instantly Peter gripped the object. It was the senseless body of a man. - -Now came the supreme effort—to regain the beach without being pounded -by the breakers. It was easy enough to come ashore—the waves would see -to that—but it was far from a simple task to protect himself and his -senseless burden from the terrible onslaught of the hammering surf. And -such a lot depended upon the life-line being hauled in at exactly the -right moment. - -The life-line, hitherto a hindrance, was now apparently uselessly slack. -Vaguely, Peter found himself wondering what possessed the fellows on the -beach: why on earth weren’t they hauling away for all they were worth? - -Then it occurred to him that even at that short distance the shore was -hidden in the fog. A mild panic seized him. What if the rope had parted -and he was being carried out to sea? - -Not for one moment did he relax his grip upon his unconscious, perhaps -lifeless, burden. Another roller was on the point of breaking. Would it -batter him into a state of insensibility? - -It overtook him, fortunately without toppling over. Right on the crest -he found himself, being urged towards the shore at a tremendous pace. -Then with a loud roar the unstable mass broke. Peter felt his feet touch -the yielding sand. He was surrounded by a swirling torrent of foam and -hurled sideways like a sack of flour. - -Then he was conscious of the life-line tautening. He was being swept -back by the undertow. In desperation he threw arms and legs round the -form of the helpless seaman in an endeavour to prevent him being torn -from his grasp. - -The rope held. Half a dozen lusty men and youths were tailing on to it. -The pressure was terrific. The sand, washed down by the undertow, rasped -Craddock’s face, hands, and knees. His lungs seemed on the point of -bursting. - -Another wave was rearing its formidable crest. Peter eyed it with -apprehension. Magnified in the fog, it looked higher than it actually -was, but the power behind it was none the less. He wondered whether he -could survive the threatened hammering of the tremendous thunderous -mass. - -He was dimly conscious of vague forms surrounding him, grasping arms and -legs. Still he held on to his helpless burden, and, since they could not -be separated, the pair were literally dragged beyond the reach of the -breaker. - -It fell harmlessly, and, like a monster baulked of its prey, retired -growling and muttering to merge into the turmoil of tumbling breakers. - - - - - CHAPTER XXV - Home Again - - -When Peter came to himself he was lying on the wet sand with his head -pillowed on a greatcoat. Something warm was licking his face. It was -Molly. Overjoyed at her master’s return, she could not be restrained -from showing her joy and relief in true doggie fashion, and her delight -redoubled when the Sea Scout opened his eyes and attempted to sit up. - -“Good old Peter!” exclaimed Brandon. “How do you feel?” - -“As if I’d been sand-papered,” replied Craddock, with perfect -truthfulness. Then, recalling the reason for his present plight, he -asked, “Where’s the fellow we rescued? Is he dead?” - -“He’s alive,” declared the Patrol Leader, and, turning to Mr. Grant, he -asked in a low voice, “Can I tell him?” - -“Yes, do,” answered the Scoutmaster. - -“Do you know who the fellow is?” continued Brandon. “It’s Carlo -Bone—Blueskin.” - -Peter sat up. - -“Really?” he rejoined. “Where is he?” - -“In a farm-house with the others,” replied the Patrol Leader. “All the -crew of the vessel have been accounted for. The patrols are being -withdrawn. I say, old man, can you walk or have we to carry you?” - -“I’ll walk,” declared Craddock stoutly. - -They assisted him to his feet. He felt rather groggy, for he had -swallowed a fair quantity of salt water and had been considerably -bruised in his struggle with the waves. Walking required a great effort, -and he was glad to take his chum Brandon’s arm. - -“I reckon this night’s work means a Silver Cross for you, my lad,” -declared Heavitree. - -“Think so?” rejoined Peter. “I say; now I tumble to it. That bucket -lashed to our rudder. Blueskin must have done that. Won’t he look bluer -than he is when he finds out we know.” - -And Craddock went off into fits of hysterical laughter and sat down -inertly in a muddy lane. - -The Sea Scouts carried him after that. - -They did not take him on board that night. Instead, he was put to bed in -the shore hospital tent, where Mr. Grant remained watching by his side. - -Next morning Peter awoke feeling quite his normal self except for the -fact that his limbs were a bit stiff. - -That afternoon Peter, accompanied by Mr. Grant, Brandon, and Heavitree, -went over to see the man he had rescued. The visit was paid at -Blueskin’s request, for the man was really grateful. Nevertheless the -expression on his face was one of comical dismay when he recognised the -members of the _Kestrel’s_ crew. - -“I’m right down sorry I played the dirty on yer,” he declared. - -“That’s all right,” replied Mr. Grant. “We’ll call the account square. -But why did you?” - -“It’s like this ’ere,” explained Blueskin. “I war fair upset when I -found you’d bought that there boat. I wanted ’er, and seein’ as I didn’t -get ’er, I sort o’ made up my mind no one else shouldn’t. I oughtn’t tu -’ave tried to set she afire, but I reckoned as you’d get out afore any -’arm was done yer.” - -“Neither was there, fortunately,” added the Scoutmaster. “But we didn’t -know you were the fellow. We thought you might be, so we kept watch on -your house all night.” - -“I knows you did,” agreed Blueskin. “You were outside my house when I -got ’ome.” - -“And how did you manage that?” asked Peter. - -Blueskin gave the suspicion of a wink. - -“That’s tellin’,” he answered oracularly. “But I’m a-goin’ straight -arter this, I am,” he declared. - -“Good!” exclaimed Craddock. “We hope you will. But I think you can -answer my question: isn’t there an underground passage between old Dick -Marner’s shed and your cottage?” - -For a moment Blueskin looked thunderstruck. - -“Yes,” he admitted. “Sure there is. ’Ow did you twig it? Sakes alive! A -chap like me must get up very early in t’mornin’ tu get to wind’ard of a -Sea Scout, I’m thinkin’.” - -“How did you find out about the secret tunnel?” asked Brandon of his -chum after the interview with Carlo Bone. - -“I didn’t,” replied Peter. “It was a guess on my part. I’d been thinking -things over, and, like Mr. Grant got it out of young Marner that he -hadn’t a motor bike, that rather confirmed my theory, although, of -course, I might have been wide of the mark.” - -Little more remains to be told. - -The Jamboree ran its course in perfect weather and with unabated -enthusiasm. At its termination, Eric Little was sent to his uncle’s -house at Chichester, where life for him was considerably brightened by -his being able to have friends of his own age. He lost no time in -becoming a Cub. - -After the termination of the Sea Scouts’ marine festival, the assembly -of yachts and boats dispersed. The _Kestrel_ got away in company with -nearly a dozen craft bound for the eastern part of the English Channel -and the East Coast. Three days later she entered Aberstour Harbour and -made fast alongside the quay in the berth the old _Puffin_ had so long -occupied. - -“We’ve had a topping time,” declared Heavitree, as the crew prepared to -disperse to their respective homes. “Course we’ve had sticky times, too; -but what’s the use of being Sea Scouts if we don’t know how to tackle -them?” - -“We haven’t done so badly,” admitted Craddock cautiously. “We’re here, -safe and sound, that’s the main point. And I don’t think it’s entirely -owing to good luck. I rather fancy there’s another reason, and a jolly -good one.” - -“What’s that?” enquired his chum. - -“We’ve kept to the good old Scout’s motto: ‘Be Prepared.’” - - THE END - - - - - T H E I A N H A R D Y S E R I E S - BY - COMMANDER E. HAMILTON CURREY, R.N. - _Each Volume with Illustrations in Colour. 5s. nett._ - - Ian Hardy’s career in H.M. Navy is told in four volumes, which - are described below. Each volume is complete in itself, and no - knowledge of the previous volumes is necessary, but few boys - will read one of the series without wishing to peruse the - others. - - IAN HARDY, NAVAL CADET -“A sound and wholesome story giving a lively picture of a naval cadet’s - life.” - _Birmingham Gazette._ - - “A very wholesome book for boys, and the lurking danger of Ian’s - ill deeds being imitated may be regarded as negligible in - comparison with the good likely to be done by the example of his - manly, honest nature. Ian was a boy whom his father might - occasionally have reason to whip, but never feel ashamed - of.”—_United Service Magazine._ - - IAN HARDY, MIDSHIPMAN - - “A jolly sequel to his last year’s book.”—_Christian World._ - - “The ‘real thing.’ . . . Certain to enthral boys of almost any - age who love stories of British pluck.”—_Observer._ - - “=Commander E. Hamilton Currey, R.N., is becoming a serious - rival to Kingston as a writer of sea stories.= Just as a former - generation revelled in Kingston’s doings of his three heroes - from their middy days until they became admirals all, so will - the present-day boys read with interest the story of Ian Hardy. - Last year we knew him as a cadet; this year we get _Ian Hardy, - Midshipman_. The present instalment of his stirring history is - breezily written.”—_Yorkshire Observer._ - - IAN HARDY, SENIOR MIDSHIPMAN - - “Of those who are now writing stories of the sea, Commander - Currey holds perhaps the leading position. He has a gift of - narrative, a keen sense of humour, and above all he writes from - a full stock of knowledge.”—_Saturday Review._ - - “=It is no exaggeration to say that Commander Currey bears - worthily the mantle of Kingston and Captain - Marryat.=”—_Manchester Courier._ - - “The Ian Hardy Series is just splendid for boys to read, and the - best of it is that each book is complete in itself. But not many - boys will read one of the series without being keenly desirous - of reading all the others.”—_Sheffield Telegraph._ - - IAN HARDY FIGHTING THE MOORS - - “By writing this series the author is doing national service, - for he writes of the Navy and the sea with knowledge and sound - sense. . . . What a welcome addition the whole series would make - to a boy’s library.”—_Daily Graphic._ - - “The right romantic stuff, full of fighting and hairbreadth - escapes. . . . Commander Currey has the secret of making the men - and ships seem actual.”—_Times._ - - “By this time Ian Hardy has become a real friend and we consider - him all a hero should be.” - - _Outlook._ - SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LIMITED - TRANSCRIBER NOTES - - Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where - multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed. - - Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer - errors occur. - - Book title and author's name has been added to the original - cover. - - - -*** END OF THE PROJECT GUTENBERG EBOOK THE SEA SCOUTS OF THE -KESTREL *** - -Updated editions will replace the previous one--the old editions will -be renamed. - -Creating the works from print editions not protected by U.S. copyright -law means that no one owns a United States copyright in these works, -so the Foundation (and you!) can copy and distribute it in the -United States without permission and without paying copyright -royalties. 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