"Alan's not hurrying himself," remarked Roche, when the appetizing breakfast was half consumed.
"He certainly ought to have been back by this time," agreed Mr. Armitage. "Perhaps he is entering into conversation with some French Scouts."
"That reminds me," said Flemming, who also prided himself upon a knowledge of the French language. "I was wondering what to say as an exclamation when we are talking to these Scouts. For instance, what is the usual translation of 'Well, I'm jiggered'?"
"I've rarely heard you say that, Flemming," observed Peter. "You generally exclaim, 'Well, I'm blest', I notice."
"That's easily translated, then," rejoined Flemming. "It's merely:Je suis blessé."
Apparently Eric's rendering of the phrase satisfied his companions. Mr. Armitage smiled to himself, but said nothing. He was rather curious to know what would happen when Flemming expressed himself thus.
"I'll let it go at that," concluded Flemming. "Now, what about Alan, you fellows? Hadn't we better send out a search-party?"
Stratton and Roche volunteered to accompany Eric, and receiving the Scoutmaster's permission, they went ashore.
Inquiries of people on the quay soon put the searchers on the track. The young English Sea Scout had been a fairly conspicuous feature on the French landscape. After proceeding down three or four streets, Flemming received the startling information that the lost youth had been seen taken into the police-station under the care of a gendarme.
"What's he been doing, I wonder?" asked Roche. "Butting up against some rotten red-tape regulation, I expect. Hadn't we better inform Mr. Armitage?"
"Let's make certain that Alan's under arrest first," suggested the Patrol Leader, and, led by a gamin, the Sea Scouts proceeded to the police-station.
At the door they nearly collided with the lost youth. Hepburn, looking rather red in the face, showed no enthusiasm at seeing his chums.
"I made a mistake," he admitted. "I mistook the police-station for the post-office, and it took me some time to explain."
Flemming roared with merriment.
"You're a bright one!" he exclaimed. "I know what you did: you asked for 'le poste' instead of 'la poste'. The first means a police-station, the second a post-office. That's one up against you, my festive."
The letters having been stamped and posted, the four Sea Scouts returned to theOlivette, where Hepburn made a belated breakfast to the accompaniment of a running fire of chaff from his chums.
"You wait," declared Alan, imperturbably; "I'll score off you fellows yet."
The breakfast things having been washed up and stowed away, the Sea Scouts set to work to scrub decks and make theOlivettelook a credit to them. By the time this task was accomplished the gates of the Bassin-à-Flot were opened. In four hours theOlivettehad been lifted vertically through a height of eighteen feet by the rising tide.
"You see now why I want to try and bring the boat into the floating-dock," observed Mr. Armitage. "If we remained in the tidal harbour we would have to be continually altering the scope of the warps as the level of the water changed. Here we are relieved of that trouble and responsibility, and there is no necessity to have to ascend and descend the long ladder to get ashore or on board at low water."
TheOlivettesafely moored, the Sea Scouts prepared for a ramble ashore, to see the sights of the town. Flemming was not one of the party, having been told off to act as ship-keeper; while old Tom Boldrigg was making up for his prolonged trick as look-out man by sleeping soundly on one of the locker seats in the well.
While his comrades were seeing the sights, Eric Flemming had by no means a dull time. It quickly dawned upon him that the many advantages of the Bassin-à-Flot were outdone by the obvious disadvantages of the place. The hot sun pouring down upon the enclosed space of water was too strong to be pleasant, especially when the heat caused the garbage floating upon the surface to emit most unpleasant odours.
It was Flemming's first experience of a "wet" dock, and before very long he sincerely hoped it might prove his last.
After a while Eric went below to escape the glare. He had not been in the cabin more than five minutes before a dull thud sounded on the deck over his head. Then came another thud, followed by others in quick succession, until Flemming realized that theOlivettewas being bombarded.
Putting on his cap, the lad gained the well. Almost as soon as he stepped outside the cabin door a missile hit him on the head. Fortunately the thick sailor's cap with its white cap-cover mitigated the blow, but even then it was sufficient to make the lad wince.
He quickly took in the situation. Ten or twelve ragged gamins were gathered on the edge of the quay, engaged in the pleasant and congenial task of hurling stones and cabbage-stalks upon theOlivette'sdeck and raised cabin-top.
"Alles-vous-en!" shouted Flemming. The boys retreated a few steps, but seeing that the Sea Scout made no attempt to follow up his advantage, they held their ground, jeering and redoubling their fire.
Eric hardly knew what course to pursue. It was not good form to start scrapping on foreign soil. A jolly sound hiding, he reflected, would do the gamins a world of good, but there were the after results to be taken into consideration. If each of the aggressors went away and returned with two or three pals, theOlivettewould hardly be tenable under a terrific fusillade of stones and garbage. On the other hand, he could not allow the boat to be made into a sort of maritime Aunt Sally for the edification of a crowd of juvenile ruffians.
He might have parleyed with them, or bribed them to go away quietly, but this method did not appeal to his British spirit. He was alone. Old Boldrigg was sleeping profoundly, quite oblivious to the tocsin sounding over his head.
Springing ashore, Flemming rushed at his tormentors. They turned and fled incontinently, although several of them were bigger than Eric. He chased them for about fifty yards along the quay, and then returned to theOlivette.
But the retreat was only temporary. The moment Flemming regained the deck the gamins returned, the number considerably augmented, while a crowd of men engaged in unloading a schooner ceased their work to watch and enjoy the scene.
Flemming waited until the first missile of the renewed attack hurtled through the air, then he charged his assailants. Again the latter took to their heels, but Eric meant to see the business through this time.
Overtaking and ignoring the smaller and weaker of the boys, he held on until he collared a tall, hulking fellow, who was one of the ringleaders. Applying a very effective arm-lock, Flemming made his captive accompany him to theOlivette.
"Now I've found a hostage," thought Eric, as he deftly drew the lad's arms behind him and round the mast and lashed the wrists together. "They won't dare to hurl things on board now."
But he was mistaken. The gamins found increased delight in pelting their former leader. Perhaps they had a grudge against him. There he stood, yelling and bawling threats against his fellows until Flemming felt obliged to release him.
"'Spose I must grin and bear it until the others return," he soliloquized, as the boys renewed the bombardment.
Suddenly the gamins, uttering shouts of warning, took to their heels.
Looking to see what had caused the flight, Flemming saw a troop of French Scouts doubling along the quay. There were two patrols—about fourteen Scouts in all—but before them, the gamins, numbering between forty and fifty, simply melted away.
The Patrol Leader saluted Flemming courteously, and the Sea Scout smartly returned the salute. Then in a curious mixture of French and English and a broken attempt at both, the Scouts and the Sea Scout engaged in a "palaver".
It was rather a one-sided affair. A dozen French Scouts were talking and asking questions simultaneously, while the English Sea Scout hardly knew which remark to reply to.
"I have been to l'Angleterre," declared one of the Scouts. "Ze last summaire I vas at Sout'ampton at ze rally."
"I was there, too," replied Flemming; then using his Gallicized version of his favourite ejaculation, he added, "Je suis blessé."
The effect was startling and electrical. There was a brief pause following Eric's words. A dozen Scouts invaded theOlivette. Grasped by several pairs of hands, the astonished Flemming, too taken aback to offer any resistance, was gently deposited upon the deck. A confused babel greeted his ears, one of the most frequently used words being "blessé". Several of the French Scouts produced a packet of bandages and a first-aid outfit, while there were shouts raised for "le médecin".
"What's the game," thought the bewildered Flemming. "Are they giving a first-aid demonstration and using me as a subject, just to show how they go about it?"
Someone placed a pile of rolled coats under his head. His shoes and stockings were deftly removed. His jersey was peeled off, although it looked at one time as if the French Scouts meditated cutting it away. They felt his heart and his pulse, and tried to examine his tongue.
In the midst of the demonstration, the timely arrival of Mr. Armitage and the rest of the Sea Scouts saved Flemming from further unrequired attention. Quickly the well-meaning and excitable French lads were induced to desist, and Eric was allowed to regain his feet.
"What have you been doing, Flemming?" asked his Scoutmaster. "Have you hurt yourself?"
"No, sir," replied Eric.
"Then why are these Scouts on board with their first-aid bandages?"
"I don't know, sir; I'm blessed if I do!" declared Flemming. "I was just talking to them, and——"
"I suppose you said, 'Well, I'm blessed' in French," added Mr. Armitage with a twinkle of amusement in his eyes.
"I certainly remember saying 'Je suis blessé'," admitted Flemming, who was beginning to feel a bit dubious as to whether what he had said was what he meant to say.
"That did it," continued Mr. Armitage. "I knew it would happen before very long. 'Je suis blessé' is not 'I'm blessed' but 'I am wounded'. Hurry up and go below and get dressed properly."
The discomfited Flemming beat a hasty retreat amidst the laughter of his companions.
The French Scouts remained on board for another half-hour. They inspected and were duly impressed by theOlivetteand her equipment; they exchanged confidences with their brother Sea Scouts, to whom difference of nationality counted for little as far as the Universal Brotherhood of Scouts went. Before they took their departure, the French boy's invited theOlivette'screw to a picnic at Equeurdreville—a seaside hamlet a few miles to the west of Cherbourg—on the following morning.
"I do not think we shall be able to accept," said Peter. "We are sailing for Havre early to-morrow, if all's well."
One of the French Patrol Leaders shrugged his shoulders and threw out the palms of his hands in a characteristic Gallic attitude.
"I do not think you vill sail," he remarked.
"Why not?" asked Stratton.
The lad pointed in the direction of Fort l'Onglet, above which a cone, point uppermost, had been hoisted to the yard-arm of a mast.
"Regardez bien!" he exclaimed.
Mr. Armitage, following the direction of the French Patrol Leader's outstretched finger, noted the signal. It meant that bad weather—a gale from the nor'ard—was approaching. If any confirmation were necessary the barometer proved it. The glass had fallen four-tenths in less than a couple of hours.
"There's one thing," observed Stratton, after the visitors had taken their departure. "It's one of those short, sharp summer gales:
'Long foretold, long last,Short warning, soon past'.
It's a good thing we're in a secure harbour."
Flemming made a wry face.
"It's too much of a good thing," he protested. "I've never, never been in a basin before, and this one's quite enough. Doesn't it whiff?"
"It does," admitted Peter. "Now you come to mention it, there is an odour of sorts."
"And those little bounders the French ragamuffins," continued Eric. "The stuff lying on the decks is only a small part of what they threw. I cleared up three times before the Cherbourg Scouts came upon the scene and chased them off. Hello, what's this coming?"
The lock gates were open and a large tramp steamer was being warped into the Bassin-à-Flot. From where theOlivettelay, the steamer's stern was masked by the rise of her deckhouse and bridge, but the ensign was just visible—a dirty, wind-frayed, coal-grimed piece of red bunting with a Union Jack in the upper quarter next the staff.
That nondescript piece of bunting meant something real to the British Sea Scouts. Even though they had not long left their native shores they were already fully aware that they were strangers in a foreign land, but here was a bit of England—technically British soil although afloat—and the sight of it was cheering.
The harbourmaster, purple with incoherent shouting, hurried along the quay-side, waving his arms and pointing frenziedly at the on-coming tramp.
"What does he want?" exclaimed Hepburn.
"I rather fancy he wants us to shift," remarked Peter.
The Patrol Leader's surmise was confirmed by a voice hailing from the tramp's bridge.
"Ahoy, there!" shouted a short, thick-set, jovial-looking officer clad in a salt-stained serge uniform. "Can you drop astern a couple of lengths?"
"Ay, ay," replied Peter, and in a very short time theOlivette'swarps were cast off and the boat tracked aft along the quay.
When theAcacis—for that was the tramp's name—was safely berthed, the officer who had hailed theOlivettecame aft.
"Thanks!" he exclaimed. "You Sea Scouts know your job, I can see."
"Thank you," replied Peter. "May we come aboard you and have a look round?"
"Right-o," was the reply.
The skipper of theAcacis—bound from Cardiff to Cherbourg and Le Havre—made the Sea Scouts right welcome. It was, for the majority of them, the first opportunity they had had of "looking over" a big vessel.
"Yes, it'll blow before night," the skipper observed in answer to Peter's question. "We struck it pretty bad off the Longships, and right across the Channel there was a tidy roll on. That generally means a bit of a blow. You'll be here for the best part of a week, I'll allow."
The Sea Scouts showed no enthusiasm over this piece of information. Flemming was positively downhearted.
"Look here," suggested theAcacis' Old Man, when he learnt of the unwelcome attentions of the Cherbourg gamins, "why not lie alongside of us? You'll get a tidy bit of coal-dust, but that's a jolly sight better than cabbage-stalks and dead cats dumped on your deck."
The offer was gladly accepted. TheOlivette'sbow-warp was passed on board the tramp and the boat hauled alongside theAcacis' starboard side. Sheltered by the latter vessel's towering hull, theOlivettewas no longer a target for the ragamuffins of the port.
As the skipper had predicted, it blew hard at sunset, the gale continuing all the following day, accompanied by heavy showers. But theOlivettewas in snug shelter, the basin being completely landlocked, while the rain did not prevent the Sea Scouts enjoying the hospitality of their French friends.
At length the storm moderated, and on the fourth day the sea had subsided sufficiently to enable theOlivetteto resume her voyage. TheAcacis, having discharged a portion of her cargo, was also due to leave Cherbourg for Le Havre. Directly the gates of the Bassin-à-Flot were opened, theOlivettemotored through into the Avant-Port. Here she tied up, for it was inadvisable to make a start for the east'ard before half-ebb. By so doing theOlivettewould "carry her tide" for eight or nine hours, and as the tides run strongly off the French coast, the question of "working them" was an important one.
Mr. Armitage had to obtain clearance papers and lay in sundry stores, so that the time was not wasted, and when theOlivetteheaded seaward, theAcaciswas steaming through the East Channel.
"We've about one knot advantage in speed," remarked the Scoutmaster, "but we'll slow down a bit and let her pilot us. It's rather a dangerous bit of coast between here and Cape Levi. Look at that broken water. Anyone would think that there was a gale raging off that point, but it's merely a tidal race."
Dead in the wake of the tramp, and about a cable's length astern, theOlivettekept. At intervals members of theAcacis' crew semaphored jocular messages to the Sea Scouts, to which the latter replied with the greatest zest.
About five miles beyond Cape Barfleur theOlivetteovertook a French fishing smack. One of the crew of the latter, noticing that the Sea Scouts were semaphoring, attempted to send them a message.
"Dashed if I can make out what that fellow is saying," exclaimed Hepburn with a puzzled look. "Can you, Reggie?"
Warkworth shook his head. He was reckoned to be a good signaller, but the Frenchman's semaphoring was beyond him.
"I'm not surprised," said Peter. "The French system is different from ours. Don't you remember when we were at Dover——"
The Patrol Leader's reminiscence was interrupted by a warning shout from old Tom Boldrigg, who was in his favourite post as look-out man. Simultaneously theAcacisput her helm over to starboard, while a white object was hurled from her port quarter.
"Man overboard," shouted Boldrigg. "A hand from the tramp's in the ditch."
Mr. Armitage opened the window of the wheel-house and warned Roche to stand by with his reversing-lever.
"There he is!" exclaimed Peter. "A point on our port bow."
"Easy ahead!" ordered the Scoutmaster, then "Stop!"
TheOlivettewas now within fifty yards of the man, who was swimming towards the buoy. It was evident that he was not a good swimmer. He was splashing violently, and making very little headway in proportion to the energy he displayed, and already his strength was diminishing. It was a question whether he might succeed in gaining the buoy before he became exhausted.
Flemming, Woodleigh, and Warkworth ran for'ard, the former with a boat-hook and the others with life-lines. Eric shouted encouragement to the swimmer, and for the first time the man seemed conscious of the approach of theOlivette.
"He's almost done for!" exclaimed Woodleigh.
The time taken by theOlivetteto approach the man seemed interminable, but as there was a considerable "lop" on, Mr. Armitage dare not risk holding on at any speed for fear of running down the swimmer. The Scoutmaster was manoeuvring to bring the boat to a standstill dead in the eye of the wind and close to the man. Once theOlivettegot broadside on to the wind she would be swept far to leeward of the swimmer, and lose valuable time before she could again get within close distance.
Flemming held the boat-hook stave towards the man, but the latter had not the strength to grasp the ash pole. Before the Sea Scout could reverse the boat-hook and catch the swimmer with the metal hook, the man was beyond reach.
Warkworth hurled a line, but the rope being new, the coils failed to free themselves, and the bight fell short.
Without hesitation, Woodleigh leapt into the sea, taking one end of the line with him.
Half a dozen strokes brought him to the man, who was actually on the point of sinking. The fact that his chums were holding on to the end of the rope gave Woodleigh confidence. Regardless of the risk of being clutched by a drowning man, Will allowed himself to be caught in a desperate grip. Down he went, rescuer and rescued in a mutual embrace; then the line tautened, and in another fifteen seconds willing hands grasped the plucky Scout and his now almost senseless burden and hauled them into safety.
Woodleigh, none the worse for his immersion, beyond the fact that he had swallowed a good half-pint of salt water, went below to change his clothes. Flemming, Hepburn, and Warkworth attended to the rescued man, who was now quite insensible.
Meanwhile, theAcacishad starboarded helm and reversed her engines. Her skipper had seen that theOlivettewas proceeding to the rescue, and, having witnessed the successful issue of the attempt, had given orders for a boat to be lowered to bring the man back.
"Semaphore theAcacis, Alan," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Tell them to carry on, and we'll hand over the man at Havre. He's not in a fit state to be moved at present."
The tramp acknowledged the signal, and replied that the arrangement would be most satisfactory; then both vessels, having resumed their former course, headed for the still distant port of Le Havre.
"You managed that awfully well, sir," exclaimed Peter.
"Did I?" rejoined Mr. Armitage. "As a matter of fact it was quite an easy matter, because we were in the wake of the tramp. Supposing one of us had fallen overboard, what would you have done?"
"Thrown over a life-belt, sir," replied the Patrol Leader.
"And what then?"
"Gone astern," was the reply.
Mr. Armitage shook his head.
"Never in a light-draughted, single-screwed boat," he declared. "She'd never answer to her helm while going astern, and if the wind were abeam, she'd be blown to lee'ard of the man in the water. Now remember, if there's time, put the boat's helm over so that the boat's stern flies away from the person overboard. That is to avoid hitting him with the propeller, since men who have fallen overboard almost invariably try to swim towards the boat. Then, keeping 'easy ahead', make a complete circle and come up bows on to the man, keeping just enough way for the boat to answer her helm, and still get there quicker and with far more chance of success than by any other way."
"I'll remember that, sir," said Peter. "But I hope I'll never have to try it."
"And I, too," added Mr. Armitage fervently. "But one never knows."
TheOlivettesaved her tide into the outer basin of Le Havre. She was just in time to enter the lock gates of the Bassin de l'Eure before they were closed on the falling tide. Meanwhile, theAcacishad berthed in the Bassin Vauban.
"More floating docks!" exclaimed Flemming ruefully, as he surveyed the stagnant water. "How long do we stop here, sir, please?"
"Only until we've handed back the man belonging to theAcacis, and shown our papers to the authorities," replied Mr. Armitage. "We are going to bring up in the Tancarville Canal to-night."
"Canal, sir?" echoed Roche. "I thought we were going up the River Seine."
"So we are, Dick," replied the Scoutmaster. "This canal, however, saves us a dangerous bit of navigation. The estuary of the Seine is full of shifting sandbanks, and if we did happen to get aground, theOlivettewould stand a great risk of becoming a total loss. There have been numerous instances of quite large vessels grounding in the estuary and heeling over and filling. You see the bore complicates matters."
"The bore, sir?" exclaimed Flemming.
"Yes, you'll make its acquaintance before very long," replied Mr. Armitage. "We'll get the tail end of it several times before we reach Rouen."
Just then the skipper of theAcacisarrived with a couple of "hands" to take the absent member of the crew back to the ship.
"Who was the Sea Scout who took to the ditch?" inquired the Old Man, after he had expressed his warmest thanks for the rescue and care of the man who had fallen overboard. "Wasn't much, eh? I don't know about that. I call it pretty plucky. I mean to report the circumstance to the Royal Humane Society when I get back—which may be in a couple of months or more. On this job one never knows when the trip's going to end."
The next caller was a Port official. To him Mr. Armitage handed a document, signed by the French Minister responsible for the splendidly organized inland waterways of the Republic. The paper was a permit for theOlivetteto make use of the Tancarville Canal, and it was expressly stated that the passage through the locks was free.
"This is one of the things they do better in France," observed Mr. Armitage. "Not only do they provide a safe means of avoiding the dangerous estuary, but they grant us a free passage. If the canals of England were half as well looked after as they are on this side of the Channel——"
By six o'clock in the afternoon theOlivettehad traversed four and a half kilometres of the canal, and had tied up for the night close to a "cut" leading to the town of Harfleur.
"We must see the sights of Harfleur," declared Mr. Armitage. "It is only a little town, but it's full of interest. You remember, perhaps, how it was besieged and captured by Henry V before he won the Battle of Agincourt."
Accordingly the dinghy was launched and manned. It was the first time the little craft had been used since theOlivetteleft Keyhaven, and even then, it was not absolutely necessary. The Sea Scouts could have landed and walked along the canal bank.
It was dark by the time they returned. Tom Boldrigg had lighted the cabin lamps, and had prepared supper. Eagerly, the hungry lads sat down to enjoy what promised to be an appetizing repast, but their anticipated pleasure failed in its realization.
TheOlivettewas invaded. Thousands of little green flies swarmed everywhere. The lamp glasses were thick with them; so much so, that in spite of frequent cleaning, the light was almost entirely obscured by the writhing insects. These covered the table, settled on the food and in the hot cocoa. In the circumstances, making a meal was out of the question.
"It's the light that does it," declared Boldrigg. "Put out the light an' the midges'll sheer off."
This suggestion was acted upon. In addition, theOlivette'sriding lamp was hoisted to attract the flies. The result justified the experiment. As if by magic, the insects disappeared, leaving hundreds of small corpses in the cabin. Hungry, the crew had to make a sorry meal in the darkness, munching hard biscuits and trusting to luck that they were not swallowing dead flies; and in darkness, too, they sought their bunks.
At six the following morning, the "hands" were roused in true nautical style. It was a glorious morning, and the waters of the canal looked temptingly clean and fresh. Soon all the crew were swimming about, and so thoroughly did they enjoy it, that Mr. Armitage had difficulty in getting them to come out of the water.
Before breakfast could be served, Roche and Flemming had to walk into Harfleur to obtain fresh provisions, for everything of an edible nature on board had been spoiled by the flies.
While the two Sea Scouts were away on their errand the rest cleaned ship thoroughly, all hands hoping that a repetition of the visitation would not occur on the following night.
In about an hour Roche and Flemming returned, having had a successful marketing, in spite of the language difficulty. Their French was unintelligible to the Harfleur shopkeepers, and thepatoisof the latter equally so to the Sea Scouts, but by means of disjointed words and dumb show, Flemming and Roche had bought a goodly supply of necessaries.
"Another eleven miles before we're through the canal, lads," announced Mr. Armitage as theOlivetteprepared to get under way. "You'll have to cut out a couple of cylinders, Roche, as we did in the Thames. Five miles an hour is the speed limit here."
It was not a case of plain seamanship. The traffic on the canal was heavy, comprising small steamships and barges. Most of the latter were motor-propelled, but several were towed by steam-tugs, often three abreast in a string. More than once theOlivette'sstout rubbing-strake saved her from serious damage as the tail end of a line of barges took a sheer and swung nearly across the wide canal.
Kilometre after kilometre was passed, but the long, perfectly straight canal seemed to have no ending, until early in the afternoon theOlivetteentered the Tancarville Lock, through which she had to pass to gain the River Seine.
"We've a hot tide against us, sir," remarked Peter when the boat was breasting the swift current of the river. "Oughtn't we to bring up until the flood sets in?"
"No," replied Mr. Armitage. "We must push on and try and reach Quillebeuf before then."
Stratton looked puzzled. Knowing the Scoutmaster's usual keenness in "working the tides", it seemed strange that he should show anxiety to proceed against a strong current; while, by waiting a few hours, theOlivettecould easily make up for lost time by taking advantage of the flood tide.
"We have the bore to take into consideration," was Mr. Armitage's enigmatical answer. "Let her all out, Flemming, and keep within easy distance of the reversing-lever; it may be wanted in a hurry."
It took nearly an hour to cover the five and a half miles to Quillebeuf, but the Sea Scouts rather enjoyed the unusual scenery; Those not on duty were basking on deck until Mr. Armitage told them to go below.
As the lads scrambled down the iron ladder into the well, they heard a faint distant rumble.
"Thunder, by Jove!" exclaimed Warkworth.
In a few minutes the roar increased. It certainly was not thunder. The Sea Scouts looked at each other inquiringly.
They observed, also, that there was great activity on board the small boats at Quillebeuf. Men were busy casting off moorings and rowing the little craft into the centre of the stream.
Suddenly round a bend in the river, down-stream, a huge wall of water was seen approaching at a furious rate and breaking heavily against both banks. To the lads this moving mass appeared to be quite twenty feet high, but in reality it was about one third that height.
It was the bore, or "La Barre"—a tidal wave caused by the flood tide forcing its way into the funnel-shaped estuary and overwhelming the ebb.
"Hang on to something, all hands!" shouted Mr. Armitage. "Hard-a-starboard, Peter."
Round swung theOlivetteuntil her bows pointed down-stream.
"Easy ahead!" was the next order.
Straight for the centre of the bow-shaped wall of water the staunch little craft headed. Into it she plunged, thrusting her bluff snout deep into the wave. A foaming torrent swept the foredeck, and, breaking against the wheel-house, flew high in the air in a cloud of spray.
For a few seconds it seemed as if theOlivettewere standing on her heel. Her momentum was temporarily stopped. Somewhere below, the sound audible above the roar of the bore, came the crash of broken glass. Then with a dizzy, disconcerting movement the boat slid down the reverse side of the liquid wall into the agitated water beyond.
"There's another one, sir!" exclaimed Peter as soon as the moisture on the wheel-house windows cleared sufficiently to enable him to see ahead.
Three more times in quick succession theOlivettecharged moving walls of roaring surf-crested water; then she found herself in a turmoil of dangerous waves, steep, irregular, and silent as they surged onwards in the wake of the bore. In a few moments the agitation died away; theOlivetteported helm, and, with a six-knot tide to aid her on her way, progressed rapidly up-stream.
"Jolly exciting, eh, what?" exclaimed Peter. "Does that happen twice every day, sir? If so, what do we do when there's a bore at night?"
"We'll certainly have a repetition of it," replied Mr. Armitage, "but I hope we'll be in fairly sheltered water to-night. We've struck it at rather an awkward time, as we're right on the top of the spring tides. At neaps the bore is hardly noticeable."
Before the tide changed again theOlivettehad passed Caudebec and followed the wide and sharp curve that the Seine makes round the forest of Jumièges, and brought up off the little town of Duclair.
"We won't feel much of the bore here," said Mr. Armitage, when theOlivettehad picked up a set of moorings lent by a courteous Frenchman. "It will be safe to leave the boat; so who's for the shore? A jolly good walk will do us good. Are you coming with us, Tom?"
Old Boldrigg expressed his readiness to go. Hitherto he had spent most of his time on board while theOlivettewas in port.
"And what did you think of the bore, Mr. Boldrigg?" asked Peter, while the old seaman was changing into "shore rig".
"Not much, by a long chalk, Master Peter," was the reply. "When I saw that there a-bearing down on us, I wished I was properly afloat—plenty of sea-room, you'll understand. Rivers is all very well, but give me the deep sea—it's safer."
It was six o'clock when the "liberty men" landed on the quay at Duclair. Roche, Flemming, and Tenderfoot Rayburn, who had volunteered to remain on board as watch-keepers, went off with the others in order to bring back the dinghy.
"We'll be back at sunset, or soon after," said Mr. Armitage when the party had been safely landed.
"Aye, aye, sir," replied Roche. "We'll keep a look-out for you."
Returning on board, Roche made the dinghy fast, and hung a canvas bucket over the stern to prevent the little craft from bumping against theOlivette'scounter, as the wind was against the tide.
"Now we're all snug, Phil," exclaimed Roche. "I'm going on deck to write letters."
"So am I," added the Tenderfoot.
"Then we can post them when we go ashore for the other fellows," said Roche.
Having attended to their home epistles, the two Sea Scouts read books until it was nearly sunset.
"Lay the table in the after-cabin, Phil," said his companion "I'll start up the stove. We'll have a jolly good feed ready for them when they return. They'll be here in twenty minutes or half an hour."
An hour passed, and no sign of the returning "liberty men". Roche took the hard-boiling kettle off the stove, lit the cabin lamp, and went on deck.
It was now quite dark, except for a few lights from the houses ashore and the distant gleam of the Fanal St. Paul against the sombre outlines of the Forêt du Trait.
The Tenderfoot, on his own initiative, had trimmed, lighted, and hoisted the riding-light.
"That's the sort!" exclaimed Roche approvingly. "You're getting quite a smart sailorman. How's the tide? Why, it's ebbing and we've swung down-stream."
"What's happened to the others, I wonder?" asked Rayburn, whose notions of a foreign country included danger for man and beast.
"Lost their way, perhaps," replied Roche. "'Twouldn't be the first time a Scout has done that, by any means. We'll hear them hail us very soon."
"P'r'aps Hepburn's been run in again," suggested Flemming, "and the others are trying to bail him out."
He looked meditatively over the side, and added:
"My word, isn't the tide running hard; I wouldn't like to have to go overboard on a dark night like this."
The ebb was now running at a good four knots, the water gurgling past the sides of theOlivetteas she rode to her tautened mooring-bridle.
A tug, towing a train of barges, was laboriously creeping up-stream in an endeavour to make Rouen before morning. Farther down, the triple lights of a large steamer under way could be discerned rounding the bend abreast of Le Marais. Presently the red and green lights were extinguished. She had anchored for the night, preferring to negotiate the intricate channel by daylight.
"I'll get the dinghy alongside ready to go ashore," said Flemming. "She'll lie there quietly now we're head to wind."
"Don't forget to haul in the bucket," Roche reminded him, "or when we begin to row we'll be wondering what's wrong with the dinghy."
Eric brought the dinghy alongside on the starboard quarter and clambered on board.
"She'll do," he reported. "She's as quiet as a lamb. Wonder what those fellows are doing ashore? It's nearly midnight. You'd better turn in, Rayburn."
The Tenderfoot was about to go below, when he startled the others by exclaiming:
"What's that coming towards us?"
It was a heavily laden barge, drifting broadside on to the wind and tide. Already it was close upon the bows of theOlivette, its long, low-lying outlines grotesquely magnified in the darkness.
"She'll hit us!" shouted Roche. "Stand by and fend her off. Phil, put the helm hard over, and see if we can sheer clear of her."
Flemming and Roche ran for'ard, each with a boat-hook. They might as well have tried to stop an armoured car with a broomstick. Rayburn promptly put the helm hard over, but the scope of chain to which theOlivettewas riding was not sufficient to enable her to sheer out of the course of the derelict barge.
The next moment the impact came. It was a severe shock, although theOlivettegave to the momentum of the barge. Round swung the latter under the irresistible strength of the tide, although her side was still grinding against theOlivette'sstem.
"Look to the dinghy!" shouted Roche, still pushing with the boat-hook with all his strength.
Flemming realized the danger. Dropping his boat-hook, he raced aft, dropped into the dinghy, and began to cast off the painter.
[Illustration: THE DERELICT (missing from book)]
[Illustration: THE DERELICT (missing from book)]
The rope—a new one—had swollen with the night dew. Before Eric could untie the stubborn clove-hitch, the barge, still swinging round, crashed heavily against the frail dinghy.
Nipped between the sides of the two larger craft, the dinghy was literally split asunder. Flemming barely contrived to jump upon the deck of the low-lying barge. A second or so later and he would have shared the fate of the dinghy.
Baffled by the darkness and by the fact that he was on a strange craft, Flemming attempted to run for'ard and regain theOlivette. Stumbling over a ring-bolt, he fell awkwardly upon the barge's waterways, and by the time he recovered himself the two craft had drifted apart.
He was marooned upon a derelict at the mercy of the swiftly running Seine.
It was a time of agonizing suspense for Dick Roche. He knew that his chum had gone to save the dinghy; he had heard the rending crash as the frail craft was nipped between the sides of theOlivetteand the barge.
A prey to the liveliest apprehension, Dick ran aft, encountering the Tenderfoot, who, having placed the helm amidships, had hurried from the wheel-house.
"Where's Eric?" shouted Roche. "He was in the dinghy."
"On board the barge," replied Phil; "I saw him jump for it."
Roche ran aft and shouted. By this time the derelict had drifted so far that she was a mere shadow in the darkness.
"Ahoy!" came a faint shout, barely audible against the down-wind.
Dick hailed again, but Flemming's reply could not be heard.
"We'll have to get him off the barge somehow, Phil," declared Roche. "We can't wait for the others, and I don't know how they'll get on board. Now, look here: do you think you can manage the helm if I start up the motor?"
"I'll do my best," replied the Tenderfoot resolutely.
"You can't do more," rejoined Roche encouragingly. "So let's get to work and get about it."
The first task was to bring the painter of the crashed and water-logged dinghy for'ard and make it fast to the mooring-buoy. Then Roche and the Tenderfoot fixed the sidelights and got the engine going—the last was a fairly easy task, since the cylinders were still warm.
"Now," exclaimed Roche breathlessly, "go for'ard and cast off. By the time you're back at the wheel we'll have drifted astern and clear of the buoy. You're skipper now, Phil. Keep your head, and shout your orders clearly, and you'll do all right."
Making his way for'ard, the Tenderfoot managed to unfasten the heavy mooring-chain. The buoy disappeared overboard with a mighty splash, and theOlivette, with her engine running free, dropped astern, her head paying off to leeward as she did so.
Back to the wheel-house the Tenderfoot hurried. It was not exactly a novel sensation to steer, but it was to realize that he was now solely responsible for the direction and safety of the boat.
"Ahead!" shouted Phil in a shrill voice.
TheOlivettequivered as Roche put in the clutch. Then, gathering way, she headed down-stream.
Roche kept her at "Easy ahead". With both hands resting on the top of the reversing-lever, he fixed his eyes upon the youthful helmsman. It was a daring experiment, but circumstances justified the risk. Flemming was in great danger, and that was sufficient reason.
Meanwhile the Tenderfoot had opened the for'ard windows of the wheel-house and was peering through the darkness. Nearly all the shore lights were now extinguished, but there were the lighthouses with their red and white lamps—those showing red being on the left, and the white on the right bank.
It took a great amount of careful handling to avoid the numerous boats anchored off Duclair. Beyond was the steamer that had brought up earlier in the evening.
TheOlivetteswept past within fifty yards of her. Not a soul was visible on deck, so it was safe to assume that the derelict barge had drifted past her without colliding with that vessel—otherwise there would have been great commotion on board.
Rayburn was beginning to think that in the darkness he had overtaken the barge without sighting her, when he heard a faint shout, just audible above the noise of the motor. There was no mistaking that shout: it was one of the Patrol cries of the Milford Sea Scouts.
A hundred yards or so on theOlivette'sport bow was the barge, drifting broadside on to the current. Not so very far down-stream were three masthead lights, denoting that vessels were at anchor. Unless the derelict were promptly secured and towed out of the fairway there seemed no way of preventing the barge from crashing disastrously across the hawse of at least one of the three vessels.
"Stop!" ordered Phil, putting the helm over gently. "Touch astern."
In spite of his efforts theOlivettebumped heavily against the side of the barge. In a trice Hemming jumped and gained theOlivette'sdeck but not to stay. He too realized the danger of the heavily laden barge drifting upon the anchored ships. Picking up the bow-warp and taking a turn round the bitts, he jumped upon the deck of the barge and made the end of the warp secure to a bollard.
"Come on, you fellows," he shouted. "Bear a hand."
"Can't," replied Rayburn. "There are only two of us on board. Roche is at the motor and I at the wheel."
Making his way aft, Flemming took another warp on board, so that theOlivettewas secured alongside the derelict.
"All fast!" he shouted as he regained theOlivette.
"Easy ahead!" ordered Phil. The initial excitement over, he was now as cool as the proverbial cucumber.
Very gently Roche let the clutch in, throttling well down so that the strain on the two hawsers would be taken up gradually and evenly. A sudden jerk might result in both ropes carrying away, in which case the barge would be foul of the anchored vessels before she could be again secured.
By this time the look-out on board the nearmost of the stationary craft realized that something was amiss. He began hailing in French, keeping up a torrent of exclamations until theOlivetteand her tow were clear.
"What are we going to do with her?" asked Roche.
"Tow her clear of the fairway, I suppose," replied Flemming. "We can't stem this tide; that's a cert. She has an anchor on board, but it's too heavy for me to drop overboard single-handed, or I'd have done so long ago."
Slowly theOlivettewith her tow moved towards the right bank, then, starboarding helm, she only just held her own against the swift current.
"Keep her like that!" shouted Flemming to the helmsman. "Now, Dick; you can leave the motor for a brace of shakes. Come and bear a hand with the mud-hook. Mind where you tread, old son; the barge is bunged up with things to trip you up. I've had some."
Even with their united efforts the two Sea Scouts were only just able to topple the ponderous mass of iron over the bows. Then, having paid out twenty fathoms of cable, the lads cast off both warps and jumped on board their own craft.
Roche immediately made his way to the engine-room. The clutch had not slipped, and the engine was still running in neutral, but the sight that met his eyes took him completely by surprise and filled him with dismay. The heavy flywheel was throwing up showers of water, and the engine-room looked as if one of the fountains of Trafalgar Square had suddenly been transplanted into the confined space.
"I say, you fellows!" he shouted. "One of you come down here as sharp as you can. She's sprung a leak."