Punctual to a minute, the "liberty men" reassembled on the tumble-down wharf at Keyhaven on the following morning, to embark upon the last stage of their voyage. They felt like weather-beaten salts, and doubtless had regaled their parents and friends with stories of their adventures.
Already arrangements had been made for Mr. Murgatroyd's comfort during the absence of the future crew of theOlivette. Two Sea Scouts, who had been prevented from joining the rest of the troop, volunteered to remain on board Mr. Murgatroyd's craft, using the cutter as a makeshift for a dinghy. They were on duty when theRosalie, under power, glided past theOlivetteon her way to Poole, and cheers were exchanged between the crews of the two boats.
"Not much chance of using canvas today," observed Mr. Armitage, as theRosalieentered the strong tidal race between Hurst Castle and the Isle of Wight. "It blew fairly stiff last night, but now it looks like falling away to a flat calm."
"Hullo! what's that?" asked Mr. Jackson, as a booming sound trailing away to a mournful wail was heard in the distance.
"Fog siren," replied the Scoutmaster. "From the Needles Lighthouse. We ought to see the Needles distinctly from here, but we can't. That means local fog."
Mr. Jackson followed the direction of his companion's outstretched hand. He could see the uncovered shoal known as the Shingles, over which a ground swell was breaking heavily. Farther away, and more on the port quarter, he could discern the cliffs of Totland Bay. There the view of the Isle of Wight ended. Alum Bay and the detached chalk masses known as the Needles were blotted out in a thick but invisible mist that blended with the grey sky.
"It's stopped, sir," exclaimed Hepburn.
"What's stopped?" inquired Mr. Armitage.
"The fog-horn, sir," replied Alan, who, like the rest of the Sea Scouts, knew the character of the Needles "fog reed-horn" well, since Milford is within six miles of the lighthouse. "It's a blast of five seconds every fifteen seconds. I haven't heard it for more than a couple of minutes."
"The fog's lifted out there, perhaps," suggested Roche.
"It certainly doesn't look like it," observed Mr. Armitage. "Most likely we have struck a zone of silence. You remember how we saw an inverted phantom image of Dungeness Lighthouse? That was caused by irregular layers of air. Sound is similarly affected. The volume of noise leaps, as it were, and although we might not hear it fairly close to, vessels much farther away might hear it distinctly. There it is again, Alan. We have passed through the zone of silence."
Attention was then turned in a new direction. TheRosalie, having "made her numbers" to Hurst Signalling Station, was passing within a quarter of a mile of Milford. The Sea Scouts could discern their hut, perched half-way up the low, gravelly cliff, and, what was more, every lad was able to distinguish, by the aid of the glasses, the features of some relative, for parents and other kith and kin had gone down to the beach to watch theRosaliepass.
"Give Christchurch Head a wide berth, Peter," cautioned the Scoutmaster. "Although there's plenty of water for us over the ledge, there'll be a nasty sea after the recent gale. Can you see the Ledge buoy?"
"Yes, sir," replied Stratton, after a brief survey. "A point on our port bow."
"Then starboard a point. Note the compass bearing in case it comes on thick. I rather fancy it will before long."
Before theRosaliewas abreast of the buoy the Scoutmaster's forecast proved to be correct. Insidiously the white, dank mist swept down, until the bold outlines of Christchurch Head were blotted out. Then the fog thickened until the range of visibility was limited to about twenty yards.
"We're all right so far," said Mr. Armitage cheerfully. "Out of the way of Channel traffic, and, even if the fog doesn't lift, we'll pick up the entrance to Poole Harbour by taking soundings. Plenty of time for that, however. Keep her on West by 1/2 South for the present, Peter. Warkworth and Woodleigh, get your oilskins on and go for'ard. Keep a sharp look-out, especially for lobster lines. There are a lot off this ledge."
"What would happen if we struck one?" asked Flemming.
"It might get round our props and stop both motors," replied the Scoutmaster. "But I'm looking at it from a fisherman's point of view. Lobster pots cost money, and take a lot of labour to bring out and place in position, and no one but an incompetent navigator or a malicious individual would deliberately cut away the lobster-pot lines. I think we'll slow down to five knots, Roche. It will give us a better chance if there are any fishing-boats in the bay."
Mr. Armitage glanced at his watch. Working by "dead reckoning", he knew that even with the west-going tide an hour would elapse before theRosalieapproached the dangerous Hook Sands off the entrance to Poole Harbour.
"Weird sort of business, eh, Peter?" remarked Roche, joining his chum in the wheel-house.
Stratton nodded, and peered into the compass-bowl. The windows of the wheel-house were wide open, and the dank mist settled on the glass of the binnacle so that the helmsman had to be constantly wiping it to be able to observe the compass-card.
"All in a day's work, I suppose," he replied. "This is the thickest fog we've struck. I don't think I'd care about it if I were on my own bat," he confided; "but Mr. Armitage knows this part, so that's all right."
Mr. Armitage, although he did not overhear the remark, was less sanguine. Part of his time in the R.N.V.R. had been spent at Poole in the M.-L. flotilla, and he had seen the bar under almost every possible condition, from the flat calm of a perfect August day to the shrieking, howling, south-easterly gale of mid-December. He had a wholesome respect for Poole Bar, and, with fog limiting the range of vision to a few yards, he realized that an error of judgment might result in theRosalieending her career either upon the dangerous Hook Sands or on the surf-swept shoals of Studland Bay.
Half an hour after theRosaliepassed Christchurch Head a breeze sprang up from the south-east—a breeze that speedily developed into a hard blow.
"That's better," exclaimed Mr. Armitage. "This ought to disperse the fog."
Another twenty minutes passed, but the fog showed no signs of lifting. Rolling banks of vapour eddied athwart the yacht's course, producing a strange optical effect, as if theRosaliewere drifting bodily to wind'ard. Occasionally, during a lull in the wind, the thunder of distant surf could be heard.
"We ought to be picking up Anvil Point fog signal," Mr. Armitage remarked. "Stand by with the lead-line, Hepburn."
"I hear a syren, sir," declared Woodleigh.
"That's not Anvil Point, then," rejoined the Scoutmaster. "Anyone else hear it?"
Almost immediately came the strident blasts of a steam-whistle—a long blast followed by a short one; a pause, and then long, short, long, short.
Every one of theRosalie'screw knew what that meant. It was the Morse N.C., signifying: "In distress; require immediate assistance".
It was a call—to which no true seaman would hesitate to respond—to hasten, regardless of risk, to the assistance of the distressed vessel.
"About a couple of miles to the south'ard, I imagine," said Mr. Armitage. "Starboard four, Peter."
"What's happened, I wonder?" inquired Roche.
"Some sort of disaster, I'm afraid," replied the Scoutmaster. "A small tramp in distress."
"Why small, sir?" asked Woodleigh.
"Because she used her syren to signal in Morse instead of using the wireless S.O.S. All large ships, and many small ones, have wireless installation. It's compulsory for large ships. Hence it is safe to assume that the appeal emanated from a small steam vessel; a sailing ship would use a fog-horn worked by air, or perhaps a Klaxon horn. There it is again. Nearer now. Reply, Hepburn, FGI—I will assist you."
Roche went below, in readiness to work the clutches should the deck controls fail. Mr. Armitage stood just outside the wheel-house, in order to give directions to Stratton at the helm, while the rest of the crew stood by with heaving-lines and fenders, in case they had to run alongside the distressed vessel.
They could now hear the hiss of escaping steam and distinguish the strident tones of someone giving orders.
"'Stern both engines!" ordered Mr. Armitage. "Hard-a-port!"
TheRosalieswung round just in time to avoid collision with a towering wall of iron, looming suddenly on them out of the fog.
A rift in the mist revealed the presence of a tramp well down by the head, and with such a great amount of damage to her bows that it appeared impossible for her to keep afloat.
"Ahoy!" hailed the same loud-voiced man. "Can you take us in tow?"
A series of hurried questions resulted in the information that the tramp was the S.S.Pen-y-coote, bound from Christiana for Bristol with timber. In the fog she had collided with, or rather—as her "Old Man" was careful to state—had been run into by, an unknown vessel somewhere between St. Catherine's and the Shingles.
"Cut clean through my bows for'ard of the hold bulkhead," declared the skipper. "Carried both anchors away, and then as we went astern we fouled something and fractured our main shaft. The other vessel? I don't know what happened to her. She was ten times my size, and cracked on at the rate of knots. Stop? Not she. A dirty Hun most likely; sort of thing they would do if they got a chance. You haven't much horse-power, Cap'n. I thought you were a tug."
"We'll have a shot at it anyway," declared Mr. Armitage. "We'll take you into Poole. Pay out a hawser; we'd better tow you stern foremost."
Manoeuvring to leeward of the helpless tramp, theRosalieapproached sufficiently near for a heavy line to be thrown from thePen-y-coote'sstern.
[Illustration]
[Illustration]
[Illustration: "STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSERS AS SHE TAKES UP THE STRAIN"]
[Illustration: "STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSERS AS SHE TAKES UP THE STRAIN"]
The hawser was then brought on board and bent to a wire span between the two after bollards.
It was a tough proposition for the 35-ton motor yacht to tow the disabled 650-ton tramp, but the crew of theRosaliewere on their mettle. If they failed, then the result would be much the same as if they had not put in an appearance—the tramp, unable to anchor, would be driven ashore either against the cliffs of the Isle of Purbeck or upon the treacherous sands in the vicinity of the mouth of Poole Harbour.
"How much water are you drawing?" hailed the Scoutmaster.
"'Bout thirteen for'ard, and eleven aft," was the reply.
"Good enough," declared Mr. Armitage. He knew that eleven feet represented the minimum depth on the bar at low-water springs. It was now close on the neaps, which meant possibly another two feet over the deepest part of the entrance, and the young flood would soon be making.
"Stand clear of the hawser as she takes up the strain," continued the Scoutmaster, addressing Woodleigh and Warkworth. "We don't want broken limbs on this packet. Now, Peter, easy ahead both engines."
By dint of careful manoeuvring the towing-rope tautened without anything carrying away, and presently theRosalie'smotors were running all out. ThePent-y-cootegathered way, and was presently moving at a modest three knots in the wake of her small helper.
The fog was still as thick as ever it had been, while the deviation of course and manoeuvres that had taken place had resulted in Mr. Armitage losing his bearings. Whether he was off Poole Harbour, or farther to the west'ard, he had only the haziest notion. He decided to steer north magnetic, and by the aid of soundings arrive sufficiently close to shallow water to enable him to recognize the coast-line.
For the best part of an hour they held on, hearing nothing, seeing nothing, until the dull rumble of the breakers dead to leeward became audible.
The Scoutmaster was far from easy in his mind. Hampered by a heavy and unwieldy tow, and with the wind right aft, he realized that unless he hit the entrance he would be embayed and possibly driven ashore. If only the fog would lift! The sea, too, was getting considerably confused, a sure indication that the bottom was shoaling.
The roar of the surf prompted the Scoutmaster to alter his plans. He decided to turn and make for the open. Even if theRosalieand her tow could only hold their own until the fog lifted, the result would be justified. Other help might then be forthcoming. The question was, had the yacht sufficient fuel in the tanks for a prolonged struggle against the wind?
"Hard-a-starboard!"
TheRosalieturned, slowly and jerkily. The Scoutmaster feared for the towing bollards, for the hawser was sagging and snubbing as the tramp began to face the open sea.
"Buoy right ahead, sir!" shouted Hepburn.
Less than fifteen yards off, was a barrel-buoy, painted red and white, and surmounted by a battered top-mark.
Mr. Armitage felt like shouting with sheer delight. He could scarcely believe his eyes. Surely there was a special working of Providence. Unknown to anyone on board either the yacht or her tow, theRosaliehad groped her way over the bar without so much as catching a glimpse of the bar buoy, and the alteration of helm had brought her close to the second of the line of buoys marking the port-hand side of the Swash Channel leading to Poole Harbour.
Nowhere else on the South Coast is the port-hand side of a channel marked in this fashion. The red-and-white barrel-buoy Mr. Armitage recognized instantly. He felt like a lost man who has been suddenly placed upon his own doorstep.
"Hard-a-port!" he ordered, somewhat to Stratton's amazement at the quick change of course. "Nor' by west. Keep her at that."
It was now a case of making her way up from one buoy to another. For intervals of a couple of minutes or so there would be a blank expanse of sea and fog, then slightly on the port bow would appear another of those blessed red-and-white barrels, each one as it was passed representing a certain distance made good in the direction of a sheltered anchorage.
On either hand the surf was roaring, but theRosalieand the tramp were in comparatively deep and smooth water, with a young flood tide to aid them.
"Land on the port bow!"
There was a long, low stretch of sand dunes covered with coarse grass.
"Land on the starboard bow!"
Again there was no mistake. Through the now lifting fog could be discerned a large white building, with a small pier a little beyond.
"Thank God!" ejaculated Mr. Armitage fervently, wiping the moisture from his brow. "We're in."
"Smart bit of work that of yours, Armitage," exclaimed Mr. Jackson in a congratulatory tone.
"A fluke—an absolute fluke," confided the Scoutmaster. "I didn't realize what I'd undertaken. We might have piled ourselves on out there. From a human point of view it was a slice of sheer good luck that we hit one of the fairway buoys, otherwise——"
He shrugged his shoulders expressively.
"However," he continued briskly, "we're in. That's the main point. Fog's lifting, but I don't like the idea of towing the tramp right up to Poole quay. Too many fishing-boats about."
"You can't leave her at anchor," remarked Mr. Jackson.
"No, but I can beach her on the mud," replied Mr. Armitage. "Tide's rising. We can send a tug to finish the job. Stand by to cast off," he ordered, raising his voice.
With the now strong flood tide theRosalietowed the tramp through Brownsea Roads into the sheltered Wych Channel. Here the hawser was let go, and thePent-y-cootetook the soft mud, while the yacht, relieved of her heavy burden, turned, and, passing through the Little Channel, was soon berthed safely alongside Poole quay.
"A successful ending to an exciting voyage, Armitage," observed Mr. Jackson. "I've enjoyed it immensely. Now comes the parting of the ways. I'll catch a train back this evening. Don't forget; if at any future time you and your lads want to renew your acquaintance with Old Father Thames let me know. We might be able to arrange a joint camping-trip, my troop and yours. There are vast possibilities of that nature in scouting, and it seems a pity that we cannot take advantage of mutual hospitality."
The Oxford Scoutmaster packed his kit-bag, and Mr. Armitage and Hepburn saw him to the railway station, while the rest of the crew set to work to "clear up ", so that the owner of theRosaliemight be able to form a good impression of his purchase.
On the way back from the station Mr. Armitage sent a telegram to Mr. Trelawney, advising him of theRosalie'ssafe arrival, but upon returning on board, the Scoutmaster found a tall, fair-haired man on deck conversing with the Sea Scouts.
It was the owner. Mr. Trelawney had received warning from Hurst Signal Station that theRosaliehad passed, bound west, and had concluded that she would soon be arriving at her home port. Anxious on account of the fog, he had spent four hours on the quay, and had only just gone into the High Street to have tea when the yacht arrived.
"I hear you've been doing what are called in the Scout movement 'Good Turns'," observed Mr. Trelawney, when the two men had introduced themselves. "I believe it's an understood thing that Scouts refuse to accept rewards for doing good turns."
Mr. Armitage assented, wondering what theRosalie'sowner was driving at. He knew that it was rather a knotty point, for, according to some authorities in the Scout movement, the lads are forbidden to accept rewards for services rendered. On the other hand, in the Sea Scout Manual the possibilities of salvage and deriving monetary benefit for it are dealt with. So, if the authorities differ, thought Mr. Armitage, what was one to do? Up to the present the idea of claiming salvage for assistance given to the disabled tramp had never entered his mind.
"That's all right, then," exclaimed Mr. Trelawney cheerfully. "It leaves me with a free hand. Of course, it's my yacht that performed the salvage operation, and, since you don't accept rewards, I benefit. Now, let's see the inventory. I'll check the thing at once, if you don't mind, and then you'll be able to get away."
It took an hour to examine theRosalie'sgear and compare it with the items on the inventory. This done, Mr. Trelawney paid the Scoutmaster the sum agreed upon for bringing the yacht round, thanked him for what he had done, and gently intimated that the business was at an end, and that there was a fast train at 7.15.
"What a strange sort of fellow," remarked Hepburn, as the Sea Scouts, with their belongings on a couple of hired trucks, made their way to the railway station. "Different from Mr. Murgatroyd."
"Sort of pushed us out of it," added Flemming. "Now-you've-finished-I've-no-further-use-for-you kind of thing."
"He certainly was brusque," said Roche. "I suppose it's business-like. He settled our account, so that's one thing. Wonder what he was driving at about the salvage stunt, sir?"
Mr. Armitage declined to commit himself.
"At any rate," he remarked, "we've had a top-hole time, and, I hope, gained experience. More than that, we've shown that we can be useful. We haven't attempted the impossible; we've merely tackled a couple of straightforward jobs and carried them out. I'm proud of you."
On the following morning the Sea Scouts reassembled at their hut. Their task was not yet completed. They had to make theOlivettesecure in her new berth, and this they meant to do before Mr. Murgatroyd left for town.
It was a beautiful day. Not a cloud obscured the sky. A light breeze from the sou'-west tempered the heat, while a steadily-rising glass betokened a spell of fine weather.
Upon arriving at Keyhaven they found their heavy boat awaiting them. Mr. Murgatroyd was on board theOlivette, which was anchored half a mile down the creek.
"I've telephoned through to Lymington to see if there are any moorings for sale. I find there is a good pair at a reasonable price, so if you've no objection we'll take theOlivetteround and pick them up."
"Delighted," agreed Mr. Murgatroyd, and almost at once he and the Scoutmaster entered into an argument as to who should pay for the anchor and chains.
"You've lent us theOlivette," protested Mr. Armitage, "and it's only right that we should buy the moorings."
"Not at all," demurred Mr. Murgatroyd. "I believe in doing things properly. What's the use of my handing over theOlivetteto you unless I provide moorings for her? They cost money, I believe."
"And we've made more than enough to pay for them," said the Scoutmaster. "The troop was saving up to buy a small yacht. The necessity no longer arises, thanks to you, and——"
"Then say no more about it," interrupted Mr. Murgatroyd, with more decision than he had yet exhibited before the Sea Scouts. "I pay—you understand?"
The run round to Lymington was quickly accomplished. The heavy moorings were placed in the boat and towed back. Before the end of the day they were successfully laid, and theOlivette, securely tethered by the massive galvanized iron bridle, could now be got under way without the laborious preliminaries of heaving up both anchor and kedge.
"Now," said Mr. Murgatroyd, "I'm off back to town to-morrow morning. I don't know when I shall be able to run down here again. While you were away I had a letter from which I glean that I may have to go abroad for the rest of the summer—perhaps till the end of the year."
The Sea Scouts heard the announcement in silence. They were genuinely fond of the somewhat boyish and erratic Mr. Murgatroyd. From a personal point of view they wondered how his sudden change of plans would affect them. Would Mr. Murgatroyd sell theOlivette, since he was unable to use her?
But Murgatroyd did not give them much time to ponder over the disconcerting possibility.
"I therefore propose to make the Milford Sea Scouts a present of theOlivette," he added.
For a few moments the lads could scarcely realize their good fortune. Then they burst into a spontaneous round of cheering.
"Of course," continued Mr. Murgatroyd, "she'll cost something to keep up. That will be your affair, but I don't think it will be a difficult task for budding seamen such as you. There's one thing I might add. I happen to be a member of the firm of Murgatroyd & Murchesen, petroleum merchants. Incidentally it is a development of the Rumanian oil-fields that necessitates my hurried departure. But what is more to the point, I can guarantee the delivery of fifty gallons of fuel a month as a slight contribution to the upkeep of theOlivette. Directly I return to London I will have the ship's papers made over to you, lads, and I hope you'll have a thundering good time."
And that is how theOlivettebecame the property of the Milford Sea Scouts. What they did with her and how they did it is another story.
It was a month of surprises. Hepburn remarked that it never rains but it pours. Roche added that he'd heard that all good things come or go in threes.
One was the gift of theOlivette.
The second was a "twelve-foot" carvel-built dinghy, second-hand, but in splendid condition. It arrived at the nearest station on a railway truck, without any clue to the sender, except that it came from Oxford. The next day came a note from Mr. Jackson, asking the Sea Scouts to accept the boat as a little memento of a pleasant voyage.
The third was even a greater surprise. It was a cheque for a hundred pounds, bearing the signature "A. Trelawney". With it was a covering letter.
"DEAR MR. ARMITAGE, (it said),"I was under the mistaken impression that your lads were trying to 'pull my leg' over the salvage of the S.S.Pent-y-coote. Inquiries proved that their account was not only strictly true, but modest in its details. I have been in communication with the owners of the salved vessel, and find that they are a small firm recently formed. They suggested a sum of two hundred pounds for services rendered by theRosalie, and to save expense of litigation I accepted their offer. Since you stated that Scouts are not allowed to receive rewards for 'good turns', I trust that I have got over the technical difficulty by asking your Sea Scout Troop to accept the enclosed cheque for their Troop Funds. There are more ways than one of killing a cat.
"DEAR MR. ARMITAGE, (it said),
"I was under the mistaken impression that your lads were trying to 'pull my leg' over the salvage of the S.S.Pent-y-coote. Inquiries proved that their account was not only strictly true, but modest in its details. I have been in communication with the owners of the salved vessel, and find that they are a small firm recently formed. They suggested a sum of two hundred pounds for services rendered by theRosalie, and to save expense of litigation I accepted their offer. Since you stated that Scouts are not allowed to receive rewards for 'good turns', I trust that I have got over the technical difficulty by asking your Sea Scout Troop to accept the enclosed cheque for their Troop Funds. There are more ways than one of killing a cat.
"Yours faithfully,"ANDREW TRELAWNEY."
"ANDREW TRELAWNEY."
And so we leave the crew of theOlivettein full possession of the staunch little craft—equipped and provided with funds sufficient for her maintenance. Worthy Sons of the Sea they are, and we wish them good luck andbon voyage.
Transcriber's Notes:This book contains a number of misprints.The following misprints have been corrected:[the hitherto hilarous] —>[the hitherto hilarious][and its up to us] —>[and it's up to us][it will be a suprise] —>[it will be a surprise][the numerous sank-banks] —>[the numerous sand-banks]Percy Westerman writes about a steamship, called [Pent-y-coote] or [Pen-y-coote]. Both spellings have been used. The former three times, the latter two times. The former spelling is also used once in the sequel to this book, called "Sea Scouts Abroad". Although making this [Pent-y-coote] the most likely spelling, this misprint has not been corrected.Two illustrations have a difference in subtitle between the list of illustrations and underneath the actual illustration. The subtitles are:[THE SKIFF TAKES THE ROPE ASHORE] (image list) and[THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE] below the actual illustration[STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSER AS] in the image list, and[STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSERS AS] below the actual illustrationIn chapter XII the _Rosalie_ is [passing close to Aldborough]. This must be another place, because they just passed Lowestoft and are heading south. But Aldborough lies to the north and also about 10 kilometers inland. Probably the similar sounding [Aldeburgh] was meant (but is not corrected in this book).A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are not mentioned here.
This book contains a number of misprints.The following misprints have been corrected:[the hitherto hilarous] —>[the hitherto hilarious][and its up to us] —>[and it's up to us][it will be a suprise] —>[it will be a surprise][the numerous sank-banks] —>[the numerous sand-banks]Percy Westerman writes about a steamship, called [Pent-y-coote] or [Pen-y-coote]. Both spellings have been used. The former three times, the latter two times. The former spelling is also used once in the sequel to this book, called "Sea Scouts Abroad". Although making this [Pent-y-coote] the most likely spelling, this misprint has not been corrected.Two illustrations have a difference in subtitle between the list of illustrations and underneath the actual illustration. The subtitles are:[THE SKIFF TAKES THE ROPE ASHORE] (image list) and[THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE] below the actual illustration[STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSER AS] in the image list, and[STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSERS AS] below the actual illustrationIn chapter XII the _Rosalie_ is [passing close to Aldborough]. This must be another place, because they just passed Lowestoft and are heading south. But Aldborough lies to the north and also about 10 kilometers inland. Probably the similar sounding [Aldeburgh] was meant (but is not corrected in this book).A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are not mentioned here.
Percy Westerman writes about a steamship, called [Pent-y-coote] or [Pen-y-coote]. Both spellings have been used. The former three times, the latter two times. The former spelling is also used once in the sequel to this book, called "Sea Scouts Abroad". Although making this [Pent-y-coote] the most likely spelling, this misprint has not been corrected.
Two illustrations have a difference in subtitle between the list of illustrations and underneath the actual illustration. The subtitles are:
[THE SKIFF TAKES THE ROPE ASHORE] (image list) and[THE SKIFF TAKES A ROPE ASHORE] below the actual illustration[STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSER AS] in the image list, and[STAND CLEAR OF THE HAWSERS AS] below the actual illustration
In chapter XII the _Rosalie_ is [passing close to Aldborough]. This must be another place, because they just passed Lowestoft and are heading south. But Aldborough lies to the north and also about 10 kilometers inland. Probably the similar sounding [Aldeburgh] was meant (but is not corrected in this book).
A few cases of punctuation errors were corrected, but are not mentioned here.