Leaving the Tenderfoot at the helm, Flemming leapt into the well and thence into the engine-room.
"It must have been that biff when the barge fouled us!" he exclaimed. "Look! the floor-boards are awash!"
Eric went to the semi-rotary bilge-pump and began working the lever desperately. Meanwhile Rayburn had shouted for "Easy ahead."
The moment Roche put the engine in gear theOlivette"squatted", as she always did when under way; in other words, her bows rose and her stern dipped correspondingly. The result was that a lot of water that had found its way into the boat ran aft and the flywheel no longer gave an aquatic display, but subsequent examination found that the level of the bilge-water rose nearly six inches above the floor of the after-cabin.
Flemming kept on pumping for nearly twenty minutes, but the semi-rotary failed to "suck air". It seemed positive that the pump was unable to cope with the inflow of water.
"Where are we now?" he asked breathlessly.
Roche passed the question on to Phil Rayburn.
"Nearly there," replied the Tenderfoot. "It's slow work against the stream."
"We'll have to beach her, I'm afraid," said Flemming.
"No good doing that now," objected Roche; "she'd fill on the rising tide. Besides, if there's much of a bore here, she'd be damaged still more. You stand by here, old thing, and I'll give you a spell at the pump."
"We're nearly there," announced the Tenderfoot. "Who's going to pick up the moorings?"
Leaving Flemming at the reversing-lever, Roche "knocked off" pumping and went on deck. Boat-hook in hand, he waited to make a grasp at the mooring-buoy, to which was attached the water-logged planks and timbers of what had been a smart, serviceable dinghy.
"I bet that kid makes a bog of it," soliloquized Roche, who knew from personal experience how easy it is to blunder in picking up moorings.
But his fears were groundless. With a confidence inspired by previous success, Phil brought theOlivetteto a standstill within a couple of feet of the mooring-buoy.
"Got it!" yelled Dick as he fished the cork float on board and took a turn round the bitts with the chain-bridle.
"Finished with the engines," shouted the Tenderfoot.
Flemming cut off the ignition. The motor clanked into a state of somnolence; then, having turned off the feed to the carburetter, Eric devoted his attention to the bilge-pump once more.
Presently Roche came below.
"There's not a sign of the others," he announced. "What on earth can have happened to them, I wonder? It's nearly half-past one."
He caught sight of Rayburn, who was stifling a yawn.
"You did jolly well, Phil!" he exclaimed. "We would have been in a pretty kettle of fish if you hadn't been here. But you're tired. How about turning in?"
"I'm not tired, really," protested the Tenderfoot. "I'll take a turn at the pump if you like."
"Right-o," agreed Dick. "We may have to have spells at it all night; but I think I'll try to find out where it's coming in and have a go at stopping it."
Switching on his electric torch, Roche squeezed through the small doorway between the engine-room and the forepeak. He could hear an ominous trickle coming from the neighbourhood of the chain-locker.
Investigations resulted in the discovery that theOlivette'sbows had been badly damaged in spite of the partial protection afforded by the "pudding" fender. Several planks had been started on either side of the stem, and although most of the damage was above water-line, there was a considerable leak where a seam or two had burst.
Procuring some grease and cotton-waste, Dick proceeded to caulk the faulty seams, but his efforts in that direction were rewarded with poor success. It was impracticable to use any degree of force, because the fastenings of the planks were in such a weak state that the planks themselves began to give; and without ramming the caulking well home, the cotton-waste would not remain in position.
"Better let well alone," decided Roche. "It's jolly tedious work manning the pump, but we'll keep the old hooker afloat."
Having reported the result of his investigations, Roche proposed that each of the three Sea Scouts should take fifteen-minute tricks at the pump.
"That will give each of us half-an-hour spells," he added. "One or both of the others can stop on deck to keep a look-out for the liberty men."
"P'r'aps they are not 'liberty men' any longer," remarked Flemming. "It's jolly rummy that they haven't shown up before this. Right-o, Dick; I'll take on with the pumping."
Roche and the Tenderfoot went on deck. The tide was still ebbing. The wind had dropped, and hardly a sound disturbed the stillness of the night except the ripple of the water against theOlivette'sbows, and the monotonous chug-chug of the semi-rotary pump.
A steamer's navigation lights appeared up-stream. She was heading towards the anchoredOlivette. Rayburn glanced at his companion.
"It's all right," said Dick reassuringly. "She's coming round a bend; that's why she appears end on. She'll starboard her helm in half a tick."
But the vessel held on until even Roche began to think that there would be a collision. He glanced aloft to make sure that theOlivette'sriding-lamp was burning brightly.
The steamer reversed engines, and lost way within twenty yards of theOlivette. A hoarse voice hailed in an unintelligible patois. Dick caught but two words, "gabare" and "abandonnée".
"A l'ancre.... A l'autre côté.... Sept kilomètres en bas," replied Roche, guessing that the strange craft was the tug they had seen earlier in the night, and that, having missed one of her charges, had returned in search of the derelict barge.
To his no small satisfaction, Roche found that his halting reply was understood, for, with a "Merci beaucoup, m'sieu", the skipper of the tug rang for full speed ahead.
Barely was the steamboat out of sight when theOlivettebegan to rock violently. It was not the swell of the tug that had caused the commotion; it was the turn of the tide and the tail-end of the bore in a succession of waves of about four feet in height.
The erratic rolling and pitching alarmed Flemming considerably, for the water in the bilges gushed between the floor-boards and swirled ankle-deep from side to side.
"She's leaking fast," he shouted.
Roche went below. Already the water was subsiding into the bilges, but it was evident that, in spite of continuous work at the pump, the leak was not being kept under.
"It'll be as much as we can do to keep going till daylight," declared Flemming as he "handed over" to his chum. "The best thing we can do is to get a bucket going. I'll bale, and pass the bucket up to Phil for him to sling overboard."
"Good idea," agreed Roche, turning up his sleeves and grasping the handle of the pump. "We'll keep her afloat, old thing, even if it snows ink."
The "liberty men" had rather overdone things. Their ramble through the Forest of Jumièges was too much of an undertaking for the short space of time at their disposal.
Twilight overtook them almost before they were aware of the fact, and long before they were clear of the forest it was pitch dark.
"If we keep on in a straight line," declared Mr. Armitage, "we'll strike the river somewhere. Now, you woodcraftsmen, lead on, or we'll get no supper to-night."
It was easy to say "Keep in a straight line", but the accomplishment was difficult. Not only was the ground thickly covered with trees—it was hilly, and in places rugged. The recognized methods failed. The Sea Scouts knew that the wind was an easterly one, but in the depth of the forest there was no appreciable air-current. The foliage overhead hid the stars, so another guide was denied the benighted lads.
"Moss and lichen always grow on the north side of a tree-trunk," quoted Hepburn. "Where's your torch, Peter? Shine it this way."
An examination not only of one, but of many tree-trunks, resulted in the discovery that mosses and lichen were not in evidence. The third clue had also let the Sea Scouts down.
"Carry on, then," suggested Mr. Armitage, "until we find a path. It's bound to lead somewhere."
It took twenty minutes' steady progress through the undergrowth before they found a path. It was narrow and apparently unfrequented. Once a big animal—about the size of a bullock, declared Warkworth—crashed through the brushwood about ten feet ahead of the lads.
"We must have tramped miles," declared Woodleigh. "I believe we're going round in circles."
"I fancy we're nearly out of the wood," said the Scoutmaster. "I can feel a breeze. Yes, I thought so."
The edge of the forest at last. It was now nearly eleven o'clock. Far below could be discerned the sinuous course of the River Seine. Nearer, and at a fair distance down the hill, lights gleamed from a small village.
"That must be Le Mesnil," decided Mr. Armitage, after he had consulted a map by the aid of an electric torch. "It's all plain sailing now. We'll follow the river bank. It's only six miles to Duclair. Come on: Scouts' pace, forward."
Encouraged by the Scoutmaster's example, the tired and hungry lads bucked up considerably. Alternately walking and running fifty paces they covered the intervening distance in an hour and twenty minutes, arriving at the landing-place at a quarter past twelve. Old Boldrigg, now sure of his bearings, followed at a leisurely pace.
"Olivetteahoy!" shouted Peter.
There was no reply save the mocking echoes of his voice from the opposite bank. He hailed again, giving the Patrol cry.
"The lazy blighters have turned in," he declared, and hailed for the third time.
"Where's her riding-lamp?" asked Alan. "I believe she's gone—broken adrift, or something."
Mr. Armitage already had his doubts on the subject. Bringing out his night-glasses, he focused them on the spot where theOlivetteought to have been moored. With difficulty he located the vacant buoy, to which was attached something low in the water and straining in the strong tide-way.
"TheOlivetteisn't there," he declared. "I don't think she's broken adrift, or the mooring-buoy would have gone with her. I hope Roche hasn't got into a panic about our late arrival and gone off in search of us."
"He couldn't expect to find us in the river, sir," remarked Woodleigh.
"S'pose not," admitted Mr. Armitage. "But to get down to rock-bottom facts, theOlivette'snot on the moorings and we're benighted."
"Perhaps she was in a prohibited anchorage, sir," suggested Peter, "and the River Police have shifted her."
"No, I inquired if she would be all right there," replied the Scoutmaster. "She can't be very far away. Roche would have dropped the anchor when he found her adrift. Anyone too tired to join in the search? How about you, Mr. Boldrigg?"
"I am a bit, sir," admitted the old man, who had just rejoined the others. "But it ain't no good hangin' on to the slack when there's a hammock waiting for me on board. So the sooner we find the hooker the better for everyone, says I."
The Sea Scouts retraced their way, keeping to the bank of the river. There were a few craft under way, but in the darkness it was impossible to distinguish what they were.
It must have been soon after 2 a.m. that the search-party arrived at the village of Jumièges. Here, fortunately a rowing boat containing a belated fishing-party had just returned.
In answer to Mr. Armitage's inquiry, the four people who had just landed—they were Parisian art-students on holiday—all replied at once.
"Yes, monsieur, we did see a motor-boat. She passed close, very close, to our little boat. She was towing a large lighter."
The Scoutmaster felt disappointed.
"I am afraid that is not the motor-boat we are looking for," he said. "Did you happen to notice any of the crew?"
"I did, monsieur," declared one of the men. "There was but one visible. He wore a blue blouse and a white hat—so. Like these messieurs here. The light shone from below upon him, understand; therefore I could discern. She was going towards Duclair."
"A white boat with a deck-house, sir," corroborated one of his companions, tracing an outline with his finger. "Towards the front one little mast but no funnel. Monsieur is benighted? Then perhaps he would care to accompany us to our lodgings for refreshments."
Mr. Armitage demurred, but the students were pressing in their invitation. Accordingly the whole party went into the village, and the Sea Scouts found themselves in strange surroundings—a cabaret.
The landlord rose to the occasion. The sight of a couple of grown Englishmen and four English Sea Scouts provoked no comment. In five minutes the hungry search-party were sitting down to hot coffee and biscuits, a long roll, and plenty of fresh Normandy butter.
"That is our affair, monsieur," protested one of the students when Mr. Armitage offered to pay for the refreshment. "When I was apoiluof the 141st Regiment we were once on the left of an English battalion. We were hungry and they were well fed—merely a matter of commissariat, monsieur—and when they found out we were famished, half their rations were passed into our trench. Monsieur has served, of course?"
Greatly refreshed, the Sea Scouts bade their hospitable hosts farewell, and set out to retrace their way back to Duclair.
"Guess we know the way by this time," remarked Peter. "Three times in one night is about the limit. Do we turn out at seven to-morrow—or rather, to-day, sir?"
"We're not on board yet, Peter," rejoined the Scoutmaster. "But I think I'm safe in saying that we'll keep to our hammocks till noon."
But Mr. Armitage's surmise was out, absolutely out. Grey dawn was showing in the north-eastern sky when the footsore party arrived on the quay at Duclair. There in the dim light was theOlivetteriding to the flood-tide. In the stillness of the early morning could be heard the regular pulsations of the hand-pump, while at intervals one of her crew—it was not light enough to distinguish who it was—was toppling pailfuls of water over the side.
"Olivette, ahoy!"
This time the hail was answered promptly. Out of the deep, open well clambered Roche and Flemming slowly and laboriously, for they were pretty well done up with their night of strenuous toil.
"They seem in no hurry to come for us," observed Warkworth, "after we've trudged all the blessed night."
"Ahoy, there!" shouted Roche. "Can you find someone to put you off? We've no dinghy."
"Then they have had a mishap," declared Warkworth. "I believe I can see the dinghy astern. She's waterlogged."
The difficulty that now arose was how to get on board. There were dozens of small boats off Duclair, but no one was about.
"We'll take French leave," decided Mr. Armitage. "Since we are in France, I take it that in the circumstances it is permissible. Find a boat with detachable bottom-boards. We can paddle her out all right, and return her when the owner shows up."
This suggestion was acted upon. The "liberty men" crowded into the borrowed boat and made their way to theOlivettewith but little difficulty, for the flood-tide was easing off considerably.
The Sea Scouts looked grave when the nature of the damage was pointed out to them. Would it be possible to continue their trip with a boat in that condition?
"But we've kept her afloat, sir," declared Flemming triumphantly, as he displayed his blistered hands. "We've done enough pumping to be excused duty for the rest of the voyage."
Roche, from below, added:
"We're keeping the leak under and no more, sir. If we knock off for even a minute the water rises over the floor boards."
"Then it's about time we came," rejoined Mr. Armitage. "We're nearly on the top of high water. Directly it's slack tide, we'll cast off and warp into that shipbuilder's yard at the head of the quay. Until theOlivetteis high and dry we cannot see the full extent of the damage."
An hour later theOlivettewas safely placed upon the slipway. Two very serious-looking Frenchmen conferred between themselves, shaking their heads and gesticulating as they examined the damaged bows. The stem-piece was fractured in two places, the cracks extending diagonal fashion. Four of the planks above water-line and two below had been "started", and from the bows to a distance of ten feet aft the caulking had been forced from the seams. Had it not been for the big "pudding" fender, theOlivettemight have sunk within a few minutes of the collision.
Mr. Armitage anxiously awaited their verdict, so did several of the crew, but Roche, Flemming, and Rayburn were sleeping the sleep of utter exhaustion.
"It is a bad business," declared one of the Frenchmen. "We have not the material for executing repairs here. It will be necessary to proceed up to Rouen, where, at thechantierof Declos et Cie., the work can be executed in a proper manner. Meanwhile we ourselves will stop the leak temporarily, so that your little vessel will, with safety, make the passage to Rouen."
He was as good as his word. Procuring some white lead, canvas, and a sheet of zinc, he contrived to patch up the gaping planks, so that they no longer let in the water; for, when theOlivettewas launched again, it was as tight as a boat could be.
When Mr. Armitage asked for the bill, the little Frenchman shrugged his shoulders.
"I am but a poor man, monsieur," said the latter, "and these are hard times. Nevertheless, I, who have been a sailor, would not gain my bread by overcharging foreign sailormen in difficulties. It is but a small thing that we have done, monsieur, merely a matter of white lead and canvas. I therefore charge you twenty francs."
The Scoutmaster looked at him in astonishment. Allowing for the present value of the franc, the cost was a little over ten shillings. Mentally he contrasted the sum with the extortionate bills for shipwright's work on the other side of the English Channel, and he no longer wondered why the British merchant ships cross over to French ports to be "reconditioned".
He paid up willingly, adding five francs as apourboire, and, with the wreckage of the dinghy hoisted on deck, theOlivetteresumed her eventful pilgrimage.
As it was only a distance of thirty-five kilometres, or, roughly, 23 miles, Mr. Armitage decided to bring up on moorings off Duclair until the tide changed. This would enable the crew to make up arrears of sleep, or, at any rate, go a long way towards doing so, while, with the favourable tide, the boat ought to arrive at Rouen early in the afternoon.
The Scoutmaster was dubious as to what would happen when theOlivettedid arrive there. It looked as if the cruise would have to terminate abruptly, while to repair the damage would probably eat up the whole of the Troop's finances.
He said nothing of this to the lads under his care.
He was content to let events shape their course, and not to meet trouble half-way. The youngsters were enjoying themselves, and he would not place their pleasures under a cloud by as much as hinting that the cruise of theOlivettewould be drastically curtailed.
It was a picturesque stretch of the river that confronted the Sea Scouts when the voyage was resumed. The Seine made a huge U-shaped bend, almost encircling the Forest of Roumare on the port hand, and skirting the Forests of Mauny and du Rouvray to starboard. On either bank were numerous villages, while occasionally small islands were passed.
TheOlivettewas abreast of the Obelisk at Le Val de la Haye, when her crew noticed a weird sort of craft approaching at tremendous speed. At first the Sea Scouts could not make head or tail of it. There was hardly anything to be seen but a triangular girder appearing above the apex of a double crest of spray, but the noise the quaint craft made was terrific.
"It's driven by an aerial propeller," declared Peter. "I can see the glint on the blades as they revolve."
Approaching at a rate of about forty-five miles an hour, the vessel passed theOlivette"like a streak of greased lightning". That was Hepburn's definition.
As she passed, the Sea Scouts saw that she was a hydro-glisseur, her hull composed of three rectangular floats in line ahead and supporting an aluminium cabin. Right aft was the motor with a triple chain-driven air propeller. In the bows a tiny Tricolour stood out stiffly in the breeze. Her crew consisted of two people—one, a bareheaded mechanic, wearing a blue overall, the other, a youngish man, the outstanding features of his costume being a velour Alpine hat, with a tuft of feathers, and a pair of light-yellow kid gloves.
Noticing the Red Ensign flying on board theOlivette, the Frenchman took off his hat and made an elaborate bow. Not to be outdone in politeness, the Scoutmaster gave the order, "Alert!" and while the crew stood to attention he saluted the owner of the glisseur in scout fashion.
"We ought to have dipped our ensign, I suppose," remarked Stratton.
"There wasn't time," rejoined Woodleigh. "He passed before you could count five."
"He's turning!" exclaimed Alan. "I say, what a heel! Oh, look! she's over!"
Hepburn's exclamation directed the attention of all hands aft. Even Flemming, who was in the wheel-house, allowed theOlivetteto swing a couple of points out of her course as he looked astern.
The air-propelled craft, extremely sensitive to her helm, had made too sharp a turn, or perhaps the mechanic had not slowed down the motor sufficiently. In any case she capsized. For a moment, quite two-thirds of the under-surface of the floats was exposed. Then, with a rending crash, the rapidly-revolving propeller blades hit the water and were shattered into splinters. The next instant the violently racing engine dipped beneath the surface. A cloud of steam, as the water came into contact with the hot cylinders, momentarily hid the scene of the disaster.
Flemming acted promptly. Spinning the wheel hard over, and shouting to his chum, Roche, to slow down, he brought theOlivette'sbows on to the spot where the glisseur had disappeared on an unpremeditated submarine excursion.
The owner of the vanished craft was with difficulty swimming towards his mechanic, who, unable to keep afloat, had sunk for the second time.
The Frenchman was obviously handicapped, because he made no attempt to use his left arm, but, arriving over the place where the air-bubbles marked the presence of the unfortunate mechanic, he dived to the latter's rescue.
The pair reappeared together, the mechanic desperately grasping his master round the neck. With a sudden wrench the latter shook himself partly clear, then, with a short quick jab with his right fist, the Frenchman hit the struggling man a stunning blow on the left temple, grasped him by the collar of his overalls, and waited the arrival of theOlivette.
Quickly the pair were hauled on board. Three of the Sea Scouts immediately set to work to resuscitate the half-drowned mechanic, while the others, in their imperfect French, offered their services to the owner of the lost craft.
The Frenchman bowed. He had lost his hat.
"Permettez-moi, messieurs!" he exclaimed, and gravely produced a saturated visiting-card on which were the words "Raoul de la Voie, Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur".
Mr. Armitage suggested to his involuntary guest that perhaps the crew of theOlivettemight conduct salvage operations. The boat had stopped, with her engines running well throttled down, close to the place where the hydro-glisseur had disappeared, a ready clue being afforded by the oil rising in a steady, far-spreading stream to the surface.
Monsieur de la Voie listened with perfect gravity to the Scoutmaster's halting attempt to put his thoughts into words in the French language. Mr. Armitage "stuck" badly. His vocabulary was usually good, but at the present time he had the greatest difficulty in finding his words, and his dictionary was in one of his portmanteaux in the after-cabin.
"Excuse me," remarked the Frenchman, with an almost perfect English accent, "but if you will kindly talk in English, no doubt I will be able to follow you better."
"Thanks awfully," replied Mr. Armitage, falling back upon his mother-tongue. Then he added gravely, "I hope you are feeling quite chirpy now."
"Chirpy?" queried the Frenchman.
"Chirpy—bucked," prompted the Scoutmaster.
Monsieur de la Voie's face wore a puzzled expression. But he would not admit defeat, for, producing a saturated pocket-dictionary, he looked up the perplexing words.
"Ah, yes," he continued, with a smile. "I'm feeling absolutely top-hole, thank you, notwithstanding an unusual style of bathing in the Seine. Salvage? Hardly necessary to trouble you, sir; you've done quite enough for us as it is, but if you will buoy the spot, one of my barges will conduct the operations. If you will be good enough to give my mechanic and me a passage to Rouen?"
Monsieur Raoul was little worse for his immersion, but the condition of the luckless mechanic gave rise to grave misgivings. Not only had he swallowed a liberal quantity of water: his knee had been hurt by coming in contact with the girder supporting the aerial propeller, while, to make matters worse, his master had been compelled to stun him in order to free himself from his dangerous clutch.
The owner of the hydro-glisseur was greatly interested in the Sea Scouts and their craft. He plied the lads with innumerable questions, and complimented them upon their sound knowledge of seamanship.
Very little escaped the notice of the mercurial Frenchman, and when he caught sight of the scars upon theOlivette'sbows he asked how the damage had been caused.
"And this happened last night, then? It is just possible that I know who is the owner of the barge that caused the mischief."
"He is a careless blighter, sir, whoever he is, to let a barge break adrift," declared Hepburn.
"Yes," assented Monsieur de la Vole solemnly. "He is."
In spite of the delay occasioned by the rescue of the crew of the hydro-glisseur, theOlivette'srun up to Rouen was accomplished by four o'clock in the afternoon. The historic old town, viewed from the river, interested the lads beyond measure, while the sight of the transporter-bridge, a structure one hundred and seventy feet above the water, and supporting a travelling car that served as a ferry, appealed to their mechanical instincts.
"Where do you propose going to for repairs?" asked Monsieur de la Voie.
"We were recommended to the Chantier Declos," replied Mr. Armitage.
The Frenchman smiled. "You could not have been better recommended," he remarked. "It happens that I keep my private boats in that yard. There it is: on your left hand just beyond that crane."
TheOlivettewas safely berthed, and the French mechanic, who was able to walk with assistance, was sent ashore. His condition excited a fair amount of sympathy and curiosity on the part of the workmen; but when Monsieur de la Voie jumped on to the quay his reception was exuberant.
"One would think they were all touched," remarked Roche.
The workpeople were crowding round and literally mobbing de la Voie, talking so quickly that the Sea Scouts were unable to understand a single sentence.
Presently the owner of the hydro-glisseur obtained a certain amount of silence, and, beckoning to one of the men, led him aside. For some minutes the pair conversed heatedly, Monsieur de la Voie smiting the open palm of his left hand with his fist, while the other man shrugged his shoulders and extended his hands. At length the latter, evidently unable to hold his own, changed his tone completely. He appeared to be pleading and expressing regrets. Monsieur de la Voie dismissed him, and returned to the quayside, where theOlivettelay.
"I have found out for you who is the cause of your misfortune. That man is the captain of the tug drawing the barges, and the rearmost barge broke her tow-rope and ran into your yacht."
"Then he is the careless blighter, monsieur," said Hepburn.
Raoul de la Voie shook his head.
"No, no," he remarked emphatically. "He asked for a new tow-rope two weeks ago, and the owner neglected to supply him with one. So it is the owner who is the careless blighter,n'est-ce pas?"
"I should think so, monsieur," agreed Alan. "Do you know who he is?"
De la Voie laughed.
"Mais oui," he replied. "C'est moi—I am the careless blighter."
Hepburn coloured up and said nothing. The Frenchman eyed him curiously for some minutes, and then slapped the lad on the shoulder.
"There is no harm done," he exclaimed. "It is a joke. Let me explain. I am the actual owner of the Chantier Declos, and these are my barges. Therefore I am responsible for the damage done to yourOlivette, and I must needs make reparation. I have sent for my foreman to come and make a report, and put the work in hand at once."
"Awfully sporting of you, monsieur," said Roche.
"It is a duty," declared Monsieur de la Voie.
Presently the foreman arrived, and at his suggestion theOlivettewas placed in a cradle and hauled up the slipway. Raoul de la Voie received his subordinate's report and translated it for the benefit of the crew.
"Your yacht will require a new stem-piece, breast-hook, and seven new planks forward," he announced. "There will also be several seams to require caulking, and, of course, painting and varnishing. My foreman says he hopes to complete the repairs in a week or ten days."
The news was received with mixed feelings by the Sea Scouts. They were delighted to know that the grim shadow of a very heavy bill had vanished, since the genial Frenchman had willingly acknowledged his liability. But a week or ten days! That meant a drastic curtailment of the cruise. It would be impossible, in view of the delay, to carry out the programme.
"We'll have to cut out the Paris trip, lads," said Mr. Armitage.
Poor old Tom Boldrigg looked very much down in the mouth. The decision meant a lot to him. The opportunity of paying a visit to the grave of his soldier son was now denied him.
"Paris?" echoed Raoul. "Why not? Is it absolutely necessary that you proceed by water?"
"Yes, if we went at all," replied Mr. Armitage. "By living on board we could manage the visit without much expense. Living at an hotel in Paris is beyond our means. However, we are more fortunate than I expected. We might have had to return home with empty pockets."
"But you cannot well live on board your yacht while the repairs are in hand," said Monsieur de la Voie.
"I suppose that's so," agreed Mr. Armitage. "With planks out, and wet paint about, life on board wouldn't be exactly comfortable. Perhaps we might hire a fairly large tent and camp out somewhere away from the town?"
"I think it could be arranged," replied Raoul. "Since I am greatly in your debt for saving the life of my man Pierre, and for pulling me out of the Seine, it would be a great pleasure to me if you would be my guests. My home is at Tourville-la-Rivière, about ten kilometres up the Seine. There I can provide a tent, and if the weather be unpropitious there is plenty of room in the house."
The Scoutmaster gratefully accepted the invitation on behalf of the lads and himself.
"And," continued his host, "there is no reason why you should not visit Paris. Although I cannot well afford the time to go with you, I can arrange for my car to take you to the city, and perhaps you might like a tour of the battle-fields."
"Which ones, please, sir?" asked Tom Boldrigg eagerly.
"The Aisne and the Marne," replied Monsieur de la Voie. "Why do you inquire so?"
"Because, sir," replied the old seaman, "I lost a lad on the Marne."
The demonstrative Frenchman grasped Tom's hand.
"And I lost my only brother," he said. "We were on the right of a British division. Their dash was magnificent. Yes, I remember the crossing of the Marne. It was there that I gained this and lost that."
With a quick, almost apologetic gesture, he touched the ribbon of the Legion d'Honneur and then his arm. For the first time the Sea Scouts saw that he had an artificial hand.
"So now," he continued briskly, "all is practically arranged. If you will collect what baggage you require, my car will be here at six o'clock. Meanwhile, excuse me; there are certain business matters to which I have to attend."
Punctually at the hour, Monsieur de la Voie arrived in a magnificent touring-car. He had changed his saturated clothes, and was dressed in a suit of British cut and material.
Behind the car came a workmanlike equipage—a Daimler with a commercial body. Into the latter the Sea Scouts piled their kitbags and other gear, Roche and Rayburn being told off to act as baggage-guards.
"A low-down trick to do us out of a ride in a top-hole car," declared Dick, laughing. It was an enjoyable journey, but the thing that impressed the lads most was the fact that the traffic kept to the right-hand side of the road. They had noticed this—the Continental rule—before, but it was the first time that they had been in a vehicle in France.
"If I had to ride a push-bike out here," declared Warkworth, "I'd barge into everything, 'cause I'd simply have to keep to the left. And don't the motors look weird with the left-hand drive?"
The journey was over only too soon, for in less than ten minutes from the time the car left the shipyard, Monsieur Raoul pulled up outside a large house standing in extensive grounds that sloped towards the river.
"There is your tent," he said, pointing to a fairly spacious marquee pitched on high ground about two hundred yards from the house. "I telephoned to my steward to have it pitched at once. But first let us have dinner."
Somewhat awed, the Sea Scouts filed into a big, gorgeously furnished room, where they were introduced to Madame de la Voie and Madame Ledoux, Raoul'sbelle-mère.
Dignified-looking men-servants handed round the various courses, the nature of most of the dishes being utterly strange to the Sea Scouts. But even their unfounded misgivings failed to blunt their keen appetites. Stolidly, and almost in silence, they applied themselves to the food, while Mr. Armitage chatted to his host and hostess.
When at length the Sea Scouts proceeded to their shore sleeping-quarters, they found that there was a camp-bed provided for each of the crew, and that their kit had been stacked ready for their use.
"We've fallen on our feet," declared Woodleigh, as he turned in.
"You speak for yourself, young fellah-me-lad!" rejoined Roche. "It isn't usual to fall on your feet when you sleep. This is the proper way—on one's side."
Deftly Dick dived between the sheets; the camp-bed tilted sideways, and the next instant Roche was lying on the grassy floor of the tent.
Shrieks of laughter arose from his companions, even Mr. Armitage joining in the mirth at the expense of the discomfited exponent of the art of "turning in". Without a word Roche picked up his blankets and remade the bed, then, exercising great caution, he got in again.
"Someone must have capsized me," he soliloquized. "If it weren't for the fact that we're not in our own quarters, I'd get my own back."
Ten minutes later most of the lads were asleep. Roche drowsily turned over, when to his surprise the camp-bed again deposited its occupant upon the ground.
This time all lights were out, and no one saw Dick's unpremeditated tumble. Mystified, he groped for his bedding and once more turned in.
At seven the lads were aroused by the old sea-cry of, "Show a leg and shine!" Already the sun was pouring down upon the dew-covered canvas. In the woods near by the birds were singing blithely.
"Been digging yourself in, Dick?" asked Hepburn.
"No—why?" asked Roche.
Alan pointed to Dick's bed. The wooden trestles had sunk a good foot into the ground. The mystery of Dick's double eviction was solved. The camp-bed had been placed immediately above a mole's tunnel, and, as the earth gave way, the bed had tilted sufficiently to deposit its occupant upon the ground.
"I thought that you had had a hand in it," declared Roche. "But come-back-all-I-said. Who's cook? Where's the galley?"
No one knew. The mess-traps had been brought ashore, but apparently their host had made no provision for cooking breakfast.
"We're in France, remember," said Mr. Armitage, "and in France we must to a certain extent do as France does. The first meal of the day—petit dejeunerit's called—is a very light repast—usually coffee, roll, and butter."
"Oh, I say!" ejaculated the Tenderfoot ruefully. He had a typical British appetite, and always went all-out for a good breakfast. "And I'm so hungry."
The Sea Scouts washed and dressed with special care. Somehow they felt that they must appear "extra smart" as the guests of Monsieur Raoul. By eight o'clock the interior of the marquee was cleaned up and the bedding aired and folded; but no signs of a galley-fire were forthcoming. The lads were reconciling themselves to a cold meal of bread and tinned beef when a man-servant appeared and announced:
"Ze breakfast: he is served in ze house, messieurs."
Monsieur de la Voie was not one who did things by halves, for when the Sea Scouts trooped into the house they found their host awaiting them and the table spread with an appetizing meal consisting of coffee, new steaming rolls, fresh butter, eggs, and a large piece of delicious ham.
Bidden to "tuck in", the lads obeyed with the greatest zest, to the undisguised astonishment of the servants, to whom the sight of half a dozen healthy young Britons devouring large quantities of food so early in the day was a decidedly novel one.
"What is your programme for to-day?" inquired Monsieur Raoul. "As matters stand, the position is this: you are my guests for ten days, but I want you to have full liberty of action. You will, of course, want to watch the progress of the repairs, and no doubt will want to explore the surrounding country. I assure you it has its good points. Then, again, there are the projected visits to Paris and to the Marne. These will take at least three days. It is for you to say when you will go."
Mr. Armitage warmly thanked his host.
"The weather seems settled," he added; "perhaps it would be advisable to take advantage of it while it is fine. So if your chauffeur could run us into Paris——?"
"Certainly," rejoined Monsieur de la Voie.