"What a brute!" exclaimed Flemming breathlessly.
"A regular mule!" ejaculated Woodleigh, mopping his heated brow.
"I agree," added Roche, desisting from his labours in sheer exhaustion, and, resting his hands on his hips, he surveyed the object of his companions' adverse comments.
For thirty-five minutes they had tussled with the refractory motor, and had not yet succeeded in getting a solitary "kick" out of it. They had cleaned the plugs, "doped" the cylinders, tried her first on the coil and then on magneto, and, finally, on both; and had with their united efforts "swung the engine" until physical force failed them.
"We'll have to tow her down to Teddington," declared Flemming. "There's nothing in the contract against that, is there? And how far is Teddington, by the way?"
"A mere matter of 93 miles," replied Roche jauntily. "That's nothing, of course. Now, then, stand by. Flemming, you tackle the fly-wheel. Mind yourself if she fires; 'if', I said. Woodleigh, my festive, help me with the starting-handle. Now, together."
With a chattering of tappets and the hiss of escaping air the engine was "turned over ", but the hoped-for explosion failed to take place.
"What, not got her going yet!" exclaimed Mr. Armitage, who had just returned from interviewing the representative of the Thames Conservancy in order to obtain a lock pass.
"No, sir; we've tried all sorts of things," replied Roche.
The Scoutmaster put half a dozen questions which were satisfactorily answered.
"Where's your dope can?" he asked.
"Here, sir," replied Woodleigh, handing him a metal tin with a spout. "We've primed all the cylinders half a dozen times at least."
Mr. Armitage poured a few drops of petrol into the palm of his hand.
"That's the trouble," he declared. "Bad petrol; little better than paraffin. Besides there's water in it. The stuff won't evaporate."
He went ashore to see the owner of the yard, to return presently with a can of petrol.
"Try that, Roche," he said. "That ought to do the trick. I'll bear a hand."
With the united efforts of Mr. Armitage and the three Sea Scouts the motor fired. Flemming looked with glee at his companions.
"She's buzzing!" he shouted to make himself heard above the roar of the engine. "What shall we be able to knock out of her, sir? Eighteen knots?"
The Scoutmaster shook his head.
"She's good for nine, I believe," he replied, "but if we were to do that there'd be trouble with the Conservancy Authorities. She's warm enough now, Roche; change over to paraffin."
They kept the engine running for another ten minutes, until the amateur engineers declared themselves satisfied.
"I hope she'll start quicker on Monday," remarked Roche. "I feel as if I had been flogged—stiff all over."
The return of the foraging-party diverted conversation into other channels, and by the time theOlivettewas scrubbed down and tidied up, the Sea Scouts were quite ready for tea.
"There's no dinghy," observed Hepburn.
"No; but it doesn't matter," replied Mr. Armitage, "unless, of course, we want to run out a rope. In ordinary circumstances we can bring the boat alongside the bank if we want to land."
"What puzzles me," remarked Stratton, "is how we are going to turn. There's not room enough here. We'd foul one of the college barges."
"That rather troubled me," agreed Mr. Armitage, "until I made inquiries. I find that the large pleasure steamers—like the one ahead of us—go astern until the counter nearly touches that bridge. The current then bears against the bows and turns the boat until she can go ahead. When we've finished tea and washed up, we'll stroll along the tow-path as far as the first lock—Iffley Lock—and see what it looks like. Then we shan't be altogether strangers to it when we bring theOlivettedown."
"It's only three o'clock by Greenwich time," observed Warkworth as the Sea Scouts set out on their walk. "Jolly sound scheme, summer time."
"Yes; but we must remember that when we have to consult tide tables," added Mr. Armitage, "otherwise we may find ourselves in a fix."
It was a pleasant ramble along the tow-path. Past the college barges and the confluence of the Cherwell the river was almost deserted, most of the pleasure-seekers afloat having made for the sheltered backwaters to enjoy alfresco tea.
The Sea Scouts were crossing the Long Bridges, rather more than half-way to Iffley, when Peter Stratton noticed a couple of Canadian canoes drifting side by side. In one was a man in boating flannels, holding an animated but one-sided conversation with a lady, in the other.
Even as the Patrol-leader glanced in that direction, he saw to his astonishment the man stand upright in the frail craft and aim a terrific blow with his paddle at the lady.
Attracted by Stratton's exclamation, the other Sea Scouts saw the rest of the affair. The canoe containing the lady toppled completely over, while the perpetrator of the cowardly deed paddled off as hard as he could go, leaving his victim apparently stunned and floating face upwards in the water.
Already Stratton was sprinting along the tow-path as quickly as possible, until he reached a spot abreast of the scene of the outrage. Then, without waiting to kick off his shoes, he waded in and struck out towards the victim.
"Hi! hi! you! Come back out of that!" shouted a bull-throated fellow who had suddenly appeared from behind a clump of bushes.
Stratton paid not the slightest heed to the peremptory mandate, but continued to strike out with powerful breast-strokes towards the object of his attention. Evidently, he decided, the man was an accomplice. His fellow Sea Scouts would deal with him.
At length, after a strenuous effort, for swimming in his clothes was a fatiguing business, Peter reached the motionless woman.
"Well, I'm blowed!" he ejaculated in utter disgust, and turned to swim back to the bank.
Meanwhile, Mr. Armitage and the rest of the Patrol were "having it out" with the bull-throated individual, although at the same time the Scoutmaster kept a watchful eye on the swimmer.
"You've spoilt the reel," declared the man. "Couldn't you tumble to it that we were making cinematograph pictures?"
"How was my Patrol-leader to know?" asked Mr. Armitage; "or any of us for that matter? Surely you could have warned people, and saved the youngster getting wet through just for your amusement."
"My amusement!" echoed the other. "I like that. If we were to start warning people, there'd be a crowd knocking around, and that would spoil the picture. That's why we camouflage the camera."
By this time the "villain" of the film had paddled back, after retrieving the swamped canoe and the dummy, while Stratton had swum ashore, landing a full hundred yards lower down than the spot where he had entered the water, so strong was the current.
The Patrol-leader hurried towards the group, water streaming from his saturated clothes and a broad grin on his face. He was the first to "see the funny side of it ", and his mirth was infectious. The others all joined in.
"After all," declared the manager of the film company, "there's not much harm done. We stopped the reel, so that's not wasted, although if I'd thought about it we might have made something of it. 'Gallant rescue by Sea Scout' stunt. Sorry you got your clothes wet, m' lad, but you look pretty healthy, and a wetting won't hurt if you go back at once and change. Plucky lad that, sir."
"I suppose I ought to thank you for your gallantry in attempting to save me," said a lady's voice, and, turning, Peter saw the living counterpart of the dummy—a tall, graceful girl, who was accompanied by the villain of the piece, and apparently on the best of terms.
"Show's off for to-day," decided the manager. "We'll have to get the lay figure dry and presentable. Now hook it, young man, and change your gear."
The assembly broke up, Peter to run back along the tow-path, the cinema actors to pack up and return to their quarters, while Mr. Armitage and the rest of the Patrol continued their tour of investigation.
When, after having inspected the lock, the Sea Scouts returned to theOlivette, they found Peter in his bunk, while his clothes festooned the open cockpit.
The Patrol-leader came in for a good deal of chaff from his companions, who, in spite of the ludicrous ending of the episode, were proud of their plucky chum.
"By the way," asked Roche. "Why didn't you take a header in true nautical style?"
"Because I wasn't quite such an ass," replied Peter. "The water was shallow—we'll have to keep clear of that side of the river, sir—and, if I had dived, I would have butted my head see? So I just waded in."
The Milford Sea Scouts had a most pleasant afternoon's ramble round Oxford, with Mr. Jackson's scouts. They saw as much as anyone could possibly expect to see and appreciate in so short a space of time.
"I can't help envying you, Armitage," said the Oxford Scoutmaster towards the end of the afternoon. "There's nothing like a sea life. Knocking about on a river is very good sport, but, when all's said and done, it doesn't come up to a sea voyage. You don't get the lift of the ocean and the stinging salt breezes and all that sort of thing here."
"You've been afloat a good deal, I take it?" asked Mr. Armitage.
"Yes—before the war," replied Mr. Jackson. He offered no further information, but it was a case of being hard hit. Previous to "joining up" he had a small yacht on the Crouch. This he sold for a mere song before he donned khaki, only to find, on being demobilized four years later, that the price of all types of craft had risen so enormously that he was compelled to abandon any idea of purchasing another yacht.
"Do you know the East Coast?" asked Mr. Armitage.
"Fairly well," admitted the Scoutmaster modestly. "Knocked about there in and out of most of the creeks and harbours for the best part of ten years."
"Like to have a trip in theRosalie?" asked Mr. Armitage. "If so, I think it can be arranged."
"Like a shot," said the other eagerly. "I haven't any fixed plans for the holidays."
"Then meet me at Yarmouth next Saturday," continued the Milford Scoutmaster. "Bring a couple of your boys if they care to come. 'Fraid there's not sufficient accommodation for more. No; nothing to thank me for. You'll have to do your whack same as the rest of us, and we'll be glad of your help."
Early on Monday morning the landing-stage, alongside which theOlivettewas lying, was invaded with throngs of people anxious to get on the river. Every available boat and punt was let, steamers and motor-launches were packed, while crowds awaited their turn. It was an animated scene, and the Sea Scouts, having washed decks and snugged down, took a lively interest in the proceedings; while they were objects of curiosity on the part of the waiting holiday-makers.
For the best part of an hour Mr. Armitage and the boys were answering questions as to what theOlivettewas, where she was bound for, and a hundred inquiries as to the duties performed by Sea Scouts.
Presently a short, stout, red-faced man, who looked like a farmer, made his way to the front rank of the waiting throng and took a studied interest in the boat.
"Good morning," he exclaimed at length.
"Good morning," replied Mr. Armitage.
"Any chance of a trip in this craft?" asked the stranger.
The Scoutmaster shook his head.
"Sorry," he replied. "This is a private boat."
"Then it's no use?"
"Not the slightest, I regret to say."
The stranger stepped back, treading heavily on the toe of a man behind him.
"My mistake, sir; I apologize," he exclaimed, then he broke into a roar of laughter.
"That's great!" he continued. "Great, absolutely! The owner refused admittance. Something to tell my friends at the club. Murgatroyd warned off the course, eh?"
Then, with considerable agility, he gained theOlivette'sdeck and extended a hand to the astonished Armitage.
"Course you weren't to know," said Mr. Murgatroyd, waving aside the proffered apology. "I don't mind, so what's the trouble? Nothing. Now then, can we be starting? I mean us all to have a jolly good time. Nothing like being merry and bright, and dash the expense. Smart youngsters those, Mr. Armitage. Makes me regret my lost youth."
Still talking vivaciously, Mr. Murgatroyd directed the shipment of a portmanteau, a suit-case, and a big hamper of provisions.
"I know precious little about a boat, Mr. Armitage," he declared. "It's up to you and your crew to teach me as much as I can grasp. You think it strange that I've bought a boat at my time of life, eh? It's never too late to learn, says the proverb, and I'm trying to prove that the old tag is right. Matter of fact," he added proudly, "I've had my licence endorsed three times; that's put a stopper on my driving a car. Now, carry on, Mr. Armitage. You're skipper, and I'm only a passenger. If I get in your way, push me out of it. If I should show signs of mutinous conduct, maroon me on an island—the Karsino, for preference, 'cause I've been there before."
Thereat, Mr. Murgatroyd went below to watch the operation of "starting up", while the Scoutmaster, having satisfied himself that the warps were in readiness and that the deck-hands knew what was required of them, made his way to the wheel-house.
Waiting until the engine was well warmed up, the Scoutmaster beckoned to Stratton.
"Take the wheel," he said as the Patrol-leader clambered upon the steering-platform. "Act entirely on your own. I'll stand by in case of accidents."
Feeling considerably "bucked" at being put in charge of the wheel, and at the same time conscious of a slight sensation of nervousness, Stratton turned the wheel hard over, first to port, and then to starboard, bringing the helm back to 'midships. Having ascertained the number of turns, he yelled:
"Let go, for'ard and aft. Touch astern."
Aided by the current, theOlivettedid not take long to go stern foremost the length of the stage, but somewhat to Stratton's anxiety she did not answer readily to her helm. Very slowly she fell away to port, her bows just missing a barge moored on the left bank of the river, until her counter was within ten yards of the right bank.
"Stop. Easy ahead... Stop... Touch astern.... Stop!"
Roche, at the reversing lever, obeyed promptly. Unable to see what was going on outside, he rather wondered at the string of orders. It was a novel experience, acting as engineer, and relying solely upon the words of command of the coxswain.
With her after part in still water and the current boring against her bows, theOlivetteswung round rapidly until her stem pointed obliquely down stream. Stratton had succeeded in turning her. With a feeling of elation he gave the order, "Easy ahead."
"Well done, Stratton!" exclaimed Mr. Armitage with whole-hearted earnestness. Then after a minute or so he added: "We'll have to go slower than that; look at the wash."
Peter glanced astern. The powerfully-engined craft, although well throttled down, was leaving a turmoil of waves in her wake. Small boats and canoes were bobbing in the swell, which broke heavily against the bank on one side, and the college barges on the other.
"She's going as slow as possible," yelled Roche in reply to the request for less speed. "If I throttle her any more she'll stop."
Peter looked inquiringly at the Scoutmaster.
"Cut out a couple of cylinders," suggested Mr. Armitage.
This was done, but the boat trembled excessively with the jerky motion imparted by two cylinders only. At the same time the speed was visibly reduced.
Just then Mr. Murgatroyd, who was sitting on the roof of the deck-house determined to enjoy himself, inquired: "Won't she go any faster?"
"We can't do it without causing damage to other craft," replied Mr. Armitage.
"Then I'm hanged if I keep the boat on the Thames, if I can't get more out of her than that," was the rejoinder. "Look at that launch, she's going twice as fast as we are."
By the time Mr. Armitage had endeavoured to explain that the difference in displacement and shape of the submerged surfaces had everything to do with speed, theOlivettewas approaching Iffley Lock.
"I'll take her," said the Scoutmaster. "Watch, and then you can carry on through the next lock. There are thirty-two between here and Teddington, I believe, so by the time we've tackled a quarter of them we ought to be experts."
Even Mr. Armitage "had the wind up" as theOlivetteapproached the narrow lock, the upper gates of which were open. The current was running strongly over a weir to the left of the lock, the river being 2 feet above the normal summer level.
Allowing, as he thought, plenty of margin to counteract the rush of water over the weir, he gave the order for the crew to stand by with the fore and aft warps.
Slowly theOlivetteapproached the lock, until Mr. Armitage saw that she was being swept out of her course. Too late he put the helm to starboard. The boat's stern swung to port and her quarter crashed into a massive post with a shock that nearly threw the owner overboard.
The post saved her. A touch ahead with the propeller and theOlivetteglided into the lock.
"That's how not to do it," commented the Scoutmaster. "Better luck next time!"
Released from the lock, theOlivetteresumed her course past the leafy woods of Nuneham. Sandford Lock was negotiated without incident, and then Abingdon town hove in sight.
"Abingdon Bridge is, I believe, the lowest we have to encounter," observed Mr. Armitage, as theOlivettepassed out of the lock that takes its name from the old-world town. "Stand by the reversing-lever, Roche. There's a tricky piece of work ahead."
It was. Almost before the Scouts were aware of it, the low arch of the bridge appeared to be advancing to meet them. It was narrow, too, and the turgid waters foamed noisily between the buttresses.
"By Jove! Will it clear us?" thought Mr. Armitage.
Mr. Murgatroyd and the Sea Scouts on deck saw the danger, and precipitately threw themselves flat on deck. There was no going back now. TheOlivette, in the grip of a current running as fast as, or faster than, she could go astern—even if she answered readily to her helm—was bearing down at a rate of nine knots "over the ground".
Viewed from the wheel-house it seemed impossible that the boat could escape destruction. The Scoutmaster had a brief and vivid vision of the frail wheel-house shattering itself against the crown of the masonry, yet not for an instant did he lose control of the wheel.
Under it! By inches theOlivettescraped through. Hepburn afterwards declared that there wasn't the space of a hand's breadth between the stonework and the roof of the wheel-house.
"Smart bit of work, Mr. Armitage," called out the owner. "We're having some excitement!"
"No more of that sort, I hope," said the Scoutmaster frankly. "I thought that navigating the Thames was child's play, but give me the open sea any day."
"Take on, Warkworth," ordered Mr. Armitage. "I'm going below for a few minutes. You've two miles before we come to the next lock. Send word if you want me before."
Telling Flemming to relieve Roche in the engine-room, and asking the Patrol-leader to give an eye to the coxswain, Mr Armitage went to his cabin to change a roll of films. The camera was a brand new one, and the operation required careful handling. Just as he had wound the first of the new films into position he heard Warkworth shout.
"Stop. Easy astern!"
Thinking that perhaps it was an inexperienced oarsman who had got in the way of theOlivette, the Scoutmaster hurried to the wheel-house.
"What's wrong, Warkworth?"
"I don't know, sir," replied the perplexed youth. "The river seems to stop here. There's no lock and no way out."
Too late the Scoutmaster remembered that there was such a thing as Culham Cut, one of those artificial waterways that avoid a long detour of the tortuous stream. This one had been missed, and theOlivette'sprogress was stopped by the weir of Sutton Courtney.
By dint of much manoeuvring the boat was turned, and finally got on her proper course through the Cut—by a channel so narrow and with such high, steep banks that, from the wheel-house, it seemed as if theOlivette'ssides were scraping the embankments.
Beyond Day's Lock two delays occurred. Once the boat had to be stopped in order to retrieve Mr. Murgatroyd's hat, which was deftly recovered by Hepburn by means of a boat-hook. The second stop involved a complicated manoeuvre, because an inexperienced punter, underrating the tenacious quality of the mud on the bottom of the river, was left hanging on to the gradually-tilting pole, while his punt glided sweetly down stream. By the time theOlivette, which displayed her unhandiness more than ever when going astern, had rescued the dripping and thoroughly-scared man and taken the punt in tow, thirty-five minutes had elapsed.
"Far enough for to-day, I think," suggested Mr. Murgatroyd, after theOlivettehad successfully passed through a fleet of "small fry"—canoes, skiffs, and punts—in the neighbourhood of Wallingford. "Of course, if you are keen on going farther, Mr. Armitage, do so. You're skipper. But there is a decent little hotel in Wallingford which I have been to before."
"Right-o; we'll bring up here," agreed the Scoutmaster. "Twenty-one miles in eight hours isn't exactly exceeding the speed limit."
"It's been enjoyable," continued the owner of theOlivette, as she was berthed alongside a stage. As he prepared to step ashore he added: "And, by the by, there's a sort of tuck-box for the crew. They've got to get outside the contents of that hamper before we reach Teddington."
"What do you think of him, sir?" asked Flemming, indicating the disappearing figure of Mr. Murgatroyd.
"Hardly cricket, Flemming," replied the Scoutmaster, "asking me to pass an opinion. He's our employer, so to speak."
"I didn't mean anything disrespectful," explained the Sea Scout. "I thought it was jolly decent of him to give us that hamper of provisions. What with those we bought we'll feed like fighting-cocks. He's been telling us awfully funny yarns as we came along; he's quite a humorist, and so chirpy."
"Peter Pannish," declared Warkworth. "He doesn't seem to have grown up. Hope I'll be as brisk as he is when I'm his age," he added, with a philosophical air.
Having snugged down and cleaned the engine, all hands piped to tea. It was a pleasant meal eaten on deck in the brilliant sunshine, while Mr. Murgatroyd's contribution was of a choice and lavish kind.
"Now," said Mr. Armitage, consulting his wristlet watch, "it's six o'clock. Time for a good brisk stroll before supper. What's that I hear, Woodleigh? A suggestion to go to the 'pictures'? All those in favour? None. Your motion's lost, Woodleigh. For my part, I wouldn't waste a beautiful evening like this in a hot, stuffy room, and I'm glad five of you share my opinion. On a long, dull winter's evening it's different. One hand will have to remain on board, so you had better toss for it."
A coin was spun until only Woodleigh and Roche were left in the running.
Roche grinned at his companion.
"Hard lines if you lose, Bill," he remarked.
The coin glinted in the sunlight and fell head uppermost. Woodleigh had chosen tails, and he had lost.
"Nemesis, ship-keeper!" exclaimed the Patrol-leader. "Never mind. Basking on deck and watching the boats go by is preferable to the cinema and a jolly sight more healthy."
At half-past nine the rest of the crew came back, and after supper turned in. So tired were they with the long day in the open air that they all slept like logs, until Mr. Armitage bawled in nautical style into the fo'c'sle: "Show a leg, show a leg, and shine! Sun's over the fore-yard!"
"Can we bathe, sir?" asked Roche.
The Scoutmaster gave a glance at the swift-flowing current.
"I don't think it's advisable," he replied. "There's too much run of water. We'll put into a quiet backwater farther down stream, and all hands can have a swim. Besides, there's none too much time. We must have breakfast cleared away, and have everything in readiness for Mr. Murgatroyd."
"'Fraid you won't!" exclaimed the owner, with a boisterous laugh, as he stepped on board. "Caught you Sea Scouts napping, or nearly so. Carry on and get breakfast. It will be a treat to watch you youngsters eat. Remind me of the days when I had an appetite. Don't worry, I'm an hour before my time; but all Nature seemed to be calling, so I got up early."
While the engine was being started up—an operation that Mr. Murgatroyd made a valiant and determined attempt to carry out but without success—Stratton went up to his Scoutmaster.
"I can't find one of our Manila ropes, sir," he reported. "It was coiled up on the fore-deck last night all right."
"Has anyone taken it below?" asked Mr. Armitage.
Inquiries of the rest of the crew resulted in the statement that none had touched the rope, although several affirmed that it was there when they turned in.
"In fact, sir," said Roche. "I remember moving it a couple of inches, because part of the coils was resting on the fore-hatch."
"Apparently some of the light-fingered fraternity have paid us a nocturnal visit," declared the Scoutmaster. "I hardly expected there would be thieves on the upper Thames, although, I believe, their name is legion lower down. Anything else missing?"
The loss was immediately reported to theOlivette'sowner, but Mr. Murgatroyd treated the matter almost with indifference.
"Bad luck, Armitage," he observed. "It was considerate of the thief not to pinch the other two, otherwise the boat might have drifted down to the next lock or over the weir. That would have given you a bit of a shock, wouldn't it?"
The second stage of the trip was begun in glorious weather, and thanks to a comparative scarcity of other craft, and to the fact that most of the locks were open, good progress was made. By this time the Sea Scouts were quite expert in taking theOlivettethrough the locks, knowing exactly how much way to carry until the boat's nose was within a few feet of the closed gate.
"Shall we ask Mr. Murgatroyd to have lunch with us?" asked Warkworth, who, as cook for the day, was rather proud of his handiwork in the culinary department.
"Delighted!" exclaimed the owner, when the proposition was put to him.
"We'll stop at Goring," decided Mr. Armitage, "and climb the hill above Streatley. The view is superb, I'm told. Lunch can come after. It's a pity for half the crew to be feeding while we are passing such lovely scenery."
This programme was duly carried out, and, on re-embarking, Mr. Murgatroyd, Mr. Armitage, Roche, Woodleigh, and Warkworth went to lunch, while the others remained on duty.
The meal was but half over when Stratton, from the wheel-house, gave the order for Flemming to stand by. The latter grasped the lever of the reversing-gear and awaited the next order.
"Surely we haven't got to Pangbourne Lock already," remarked the Scoutmaster. "What is it, Peter?" he inquired raising his voice.
"Launch broken down, sir," replied the Patrol-leader. "They're asking for assistance."
Even as he spoke, theOlivettebumped on the bottom of the river, listed heavily to starboard, sending an avalanche of plates, dishes, and cups upon the floor of the cockpit. Still carrying way, she grated over the obstruction into deeper water.
At the shock, Mr Armitage clambered up the iron ladder and looked around. It was no fault on the part of Stratton that the boat had grounded. She was almost exactly in the middle of the river, and had hit upon a submerged bank that had evidently been formed during the recent floods.
"Good job our propeller is above the keel line," declared the Scoutmaster. "Apparently those fellows have bumped, but with disastrous results."
He indicated a 35- or 40-foot launch, drifting broadside on at a distance of 80 yards from theOlivette. Over her port quarter ran a rope stretched as taut as an iron bar.
"Hi, gov'ner!" shouted the coxswain of the launch. "Kin yer give us er tow as far as Readin'?"
"What's wrong?" asked Mr. Armitage.
"Hit summat fust goin' orf an' then our line got rahnd the screw. Proper lash-up, that's wot it is."
"Right-o," agreed the Scoutmaster. "We'll give you a pluck as far as Reading."
He went for'ard and, bending down, spoke through the open window of the wheel-house.
"Something more for you to practise, Stratton," he said. "Now, carry on, just as if I weren't here."
The Patrol-leader considered a few moments, then, "Stand by the wheel, Hepburn," he ordered. "I'll go on deck and give directions from there."
By this time the rest of the crew had left their interrupted meal and were preparing to assist in the towing operations, Roche and Warkworth going aft ready to heave a line.
Very slowly and deliberately theOlivettewas manoeuvred within 5 or 6 feet of the broken-down craft. Roche was preparing to heave a line when the Patrol-leader hurried aft.
"Let them pass us a line," he said hurriedly, and in a low tone. "I'll tell you why later."
As theOlivetteglided slowly past the launch, Stratton shouted:
"Now then, pass your rope smartly."
The man in the bows of the launch obeyed promptly; Peter took a turn round the after towing bollard and gave the word "easy ahead".
As soon as theOlivetteand her tow had steadied on their course, Stratton went up to the Scoutmaster.
"Very well done, Peter," said Mr. Armitage.
The Patrol-leader flushed with pleasure.
"It wasn't that I want to speak to you about, sir," he said. "It's the towing-warp. It's the one that was stolen from us."
"By Jove!" exclaimed Mr. Armitage. "Are you quite sure of that?"
"Quite, sir. If you'll go into your cabin and look through the after-scuttle—that won't arouse suspicion—you'll find that there's West Country whipping on the rope. I noticed that the ordinary whipping was almost chafed through, so I put on a fresh lot at Oxford."
"We'll have that back then," decided the Scoutmaster. "I'll speak to Mr. Murgatroyd about it. If he likes to prosecute he can; but, personally, it would mean a great waste of time for us."
The owner was almost of the same opinion.
"I'd run the blighters in as a warning to others," he said, "only there's the fuss of police proceedings. I think if we get the rope back and give the thieves a jolly good scare that will answer our purpose."
Evidently the purloiners of the warp were either ignorant of the fact that the vessel that had them in tow was the same craft from which they had "annexed" the rope very much earlier in the day, or else they thought that there was no suspicion on the rightful owners' part. One man was steering, while the other—puffing away at a cigar—was staring vacantly at the water.
Entering the next lock presented more difficulty, owing to the motor-launch towing astern, but Peter managed the operation quite successfully.
"Right yer are!" sung out the helmsman of the launch, when both boats were opposite a boat-yard in Reading. "Cast off, an' thanks."
"I'll trouble you to cast off," rejoined Mr. Armitage sternly.
A well-feigned look of astonishment appeared on the fellow's face.
"Wot for?" he asked. "It's our bloomin' rope, ain't it?"
The while the Sea Scouts were hauling in the slack until the two boats were almost touching.
"Possession may be nine points of the law," continued the Scoutmaster, "but that warp belongs to this craft."
"Rot!" ejaculated the man in the launch. "It's ours."
"Since how long?"
"Wot d'yer wanter know for?" asked the other insolently.
"We lost a warp like that this morning," pursued Mr. Armitage. "And this happens to be the identical one."
"You'd better look somewhere else for it," suggested the fellow. "This ain't it. If yer wants to know, I paid five bob for it a month or more ago."
"It would have been dirt cheap at the price," commented Mr. Armitage drily. "I wish I could get hold of a bargain like that—honestly, of course. However, we are digressing. That's our warp. We recognize our private marks. Either you cast off at once, or I shall be compelled to put the matter into the hands of the police."
The threat was sufficient. Surlily the men slipped the warp from the bits.
"Hold on a minute," cautioned Mr. Armitage. "We'll lay you alongside the stage."
This was done. The Sea Scouts coiled away the retrieved rope and prepared to resume, when to their surprise they saw three policemen dart from behind a shed and neatly handcuff the crew of the launch.
"One moment, sir!" called out the sergeant authoritatively. "Come alongside. I wish to ask you a few questions."
It quickly transpired that the prisoners were "old hands". They had stolen the launch from Abingdon and were on their way to Reading, where they hoped to ransack their prize and leave the hull for its owner to claim.
Mr. Armitage explained how theOlivettefell in with the disabled craft, but made no mention of the stolen rope. Even then he had some difficulty in convincing the representative of the law that the evidence of the Sea Scouts would not materially assist the prosecution.
"Another half-hour wasted," commented the Scoutmaster, glancing at his watch. "We'll be lucky if we get as far as Henley to-night."
"Looks something like a river, sir," remarked Hepburn, as the unlovely waterside buildings at Reading were left astern, and theOlivettegained the broad reach where the Kennet joins the Thames.
"Looks are sometimes deceptive," rejoined Mr. Armitage, who was standing behind Hepburn in the wheel-house. "There's a tricky spot just beyond Sonning. I'll tell you where when we come to it. Because a river's wide it doesn't necessarily mean that it's deep. Edge a little over towards the tow-path."
Sonning was duly admired and left astern. At about a mile below the far-famed lock the Scoutmaster renewed his caution.
"See that broad stretch ahead, Hepburn?" he asked. "That's shallow water. The deep channel runs hard to port, passing those two little islands on your starboard hand. Give her all the helm you can, because the current's pretty strong."
As a precautionary measure Mr. Armitage told Roche to stand by the reversing-lever. It was as well that he did so, for as the sharp bend became visible Hepburn gave theOlivettefull starboard helm.
The boat responded, but the current setting hard against her broadside was too strong for her. By the time she had turned the requisite eight points her bows were on a line with the little islands.
"Stop!" shouted Alan. "Full speed astern."
TheOlivettequivered under the reverse action of the propeller, and gathered sternway so quickly that she was in danger of ramming the right bank stern foremost.
Hepburn saw the possibility, and, knowing how unhandy the boat was when going astern, ordered "easy ahead", at the same time putting his helm hard to starboard in an attempt to turn the craft up-stream.
Almost before he was aware of it theOlivettegrounded. Carrying way until her bows were well out of the water she rammed her nose right between the two islands, swung round and listed heavily to starboard. A shower of leaves, branches of trees, and brushwood descended on her foredeck, as the wheel-house scraped violently against the verdure with which the island was densely covered.
"Sorry, sir," exclaimed the thoroughly perturbed Hepburn.
"Can't be helped," replied Mr. Armitage calmly. "You did your best. It was the current, combined with the slowness of helm, that let you down. Now comes the job of getting off."
Mr. Murgatroyd, who on the impact had narrowly escaped being jerked overboard, seemed delighted with the stranding. It was what he had anticipated. It was, as he had written to Mr. Armitage, "having some fun"—an episode without which, in his opinion, a cruise falls short of being up to the amateur sailor's standard.
Armed with his camera, the owner jumped ashore.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE]
[Illustration: THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE]
"Don't get her off yet, Armitage," he called out. "I don't want to be marooned here, but I do want some photographs."
While Mr. Murgatroyd was securing photographic records of the stranding of theOlivette, the Scoutmaster took stock of his immediate surroundings.
The boat was hard against a snag, with her bows touching one island. Amidships she bridged the very narrow channel between the two islands through which the current swirled strongly, while aft her starboard quarter was within 6 feet of the second island. She was waterborne aft, since the rudder was quite free, but her bows were a good 18 inches above the normal water-line. In addition she had quite a bad list.
"We're on pretty hard, Peter," declared the Scoutmaster.
"Won't she come off with the engine going full speed astern, sir?" asked the Patrol-leader.
"We can but try—directly Mr. Murgatroyd comes on board," replied Mr. Armitage. "The main trouble is that the level of the river is falling steadily. Since those heavy rains a week ago there's been no rainfall at all. TheOlivettemay be here for a couple of months."
"Cheerful that," remarked Stratton. "We'll manage it somehow, sir," he added optimistically.
When at length the exuberant Mr. Murgatroyd returned on board, preparations were made to extricate theOlivettefrom her ignominious position.
The four cylinders were brought into action, and the motor run first at half speed and then full speed astern. Beyond a terrific vibration nothing happened. The boat obstinately refused to leave her unofficial shore-berth.
"Roll her!" ordered the Scoutmaster. "All hands!"
Everyone, except Roche who stood by the engine, ran from side to side, but this expedient proved to be of no avail.
"If we could only run out the big warp to the other bank," suggested Peter tentatively.
"Unfortunately we've no dinghy," commented Mr. Armitage. "We'll have to wait until a boat comes along."
They waited a very long time. Already the sun was well down in the north-western sky. Two more hours would see darkness closing down upon the stranded craft. Eventhe hitherto hilariousMr. Murgatroyd began to show signs of anxiety.
"Couldn't I swim to the other bank with a light line, sir?" asked Warkworth.
Mr. Armitage shook his head.
"You're a good swimmer, Warkworth," he replied, "but the current's too strong. Even without the drag of a light line you would have great difficulty in getting across. Hampered by a rope your chances of success would be nil. We'll have to wait."
A few minutes later a pair-oared skiff, manned by four scouts, came laboriously up stream. In reply to a hail from theOlivettethey pulled alongside.
"Only too glad to help you, sir," replied one of the scouts. "My word, you are on it."
At Mr. Armitage's suggestion two of the scouts came on board theOlivette, and their places in the skiff were taken up by a heavy coil of 4-inch grass rope.
Thrice the skiff essayed the task of crossing the river. Twice the pull of the current against the floating grass-rope baulked the efforts of the scouts, but the third time, by dint of pulling obliquely against the stream, they established communication with the right bank, and the warp was made fast to a tree trunk.
"Let's hope those fellows know how to bend a rope," soliloquized the Scoutmaster, as the Sea Scouts began to heave taut on the small but powerful winch. "And I hope there'll be no traffic along this branch of the stream. If there is there'll be a good chance of a nasty accident."
He regarded the rope with misgivings. It was sagging with the tremendous rush of water in spite of the strain upon it.
At first foot by foot, and then inch by inch the warp came inboard, until not another turn of the winch could be made.
"Now, full speed astern again," ordered Mr. Armitage.
"She's moving!" exclaimed Flemming.
"Not a bit of it," declared Stratton.
The Patrol-leader was right. TheOlivetteshowed no tendency to disengage herself from the tenacious embraces of the island.
"I'm afraid it's no use keeping you fellows," said the Scoutmaster addressing the four scouts. "If you are going up as far as Reading, perhaps you might report our plight to one of the river-side yards."
The pair-oared skiff pushed off, and was soon lost to sight in a bend of the river. It was now sunset.
"There's no reason why we should go hungry, even if we are hard and fast aground," observed Mr. Murgatroyd. "I'm peckish, very; and I guess you hard-working lads are too. Let's get some tea."
"I can hang on a bit longer, sir," declared Stratton. "One of us ought to remain on deck to warn any boat that might foul our hawser. I'll keep watch."
For about five minutes the Patrol-leader paced the deck. It was a ticklish task owing to the vessel's list, so presently he sat down. Below, his companions were talking briskly to the accompaniment of the rattle of spoons, and cups and saucers.
Peter was thinking hard. It was ignominious, he decided, to run aground and stop there until outside help arrived.
"I wonder if I shifted the lead of that rope?" he soliloquized. "Better still, bend the smaller Manila to the grass-rope, and run it through the for'ard fair-lead. I'll try it, and the others can bear a hand after tea."
He set to work on the lines he had suggested, then, merely as an experiment, he began heaving taut on the winch. How it happened he could never explain. The engine wasn't running, yet directly the rope took the strain theOlivetteglided easily from her prison.
"We're afloat, sir!" shouted Stratton gleefully.
The tea-party broke up hurriedly. Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh, rushed to restart the motor. The others scrambled on deck, except Mr. Armitage, who made for the wheel-house.
He was just in time to put the helm hard over, otherwise the boat would have bumped broadside on to the opposite bank, held as she was by the grass-warp.
Aided by the engine going slowly ahead, the Sea Scouts hauled in and coiled away the grass-warp until all but 30 feet was inboard. The difficulty that confronted them was how to cast off the end from the tree trunk. Even by running the boat's bows gently aground there was too wide a space of water to leap over.
"We don't want to cut the rope," said the Patrol-leader tentatively. "Now then, you budding Blondins; who's going to walk the tight-rope?"
There were no volunteers. The prospect of falling into the swift-flowing river, even in a mere three feet of water, was not sufficiently tempting.
"I'll get ashore somehow," said Hepburn, who, holding himself responsible for the grounding, was anxious to "make good". "I'll use the boat-hook stave as a leaping-pole."
"How will you get back?" asked Stratton.
"Walk along the tow-path and get on board at the next lock," replied the resourceful Alan.
"Which will be Sonning," decided Mr. Armitage. "We know our way back, but we don't know what's down stream. It's too risky in the dark. Right-o; carry on, Alan."
The Sea Scout sounded with the boat-hook. The bottom was hard, consequently there was no risk of the pole sinking in the mud under his weight.
Hepburn had to make a standing start. There was no chance of a running leap from the deck. Nevertheless he alighted gracefully on the bank, and handed back the boat-hook.
"Too long for a walking-stick," he remarked facetiously. "'Sides, you may need it, Peter, if one of you tumble into the ditch. All ready, sir?"
"Cast off!" ordered Mr. Armitage.
The run back to Sonning Lock was accomplished without incident, and by the time Hepburn rejoined the boat, Mr. Murgatroyd had gone ashore and the evening meal was in course of preparation.
"Two days gone and only forty miles covered," commented Mr. Armitage. "We'll have to do better than that to-morrow, lads."