Mr. Graham was surprised to find that it was just past midnight when he returned on board the guard-ship. Taught by experience, he had left his wristlet watch on board, knowing that he was in for a soaking before the then unknown task was but half completed.
"We've been nearly two hours, lads!" he exclaimed; "and we haven't finished yet. You two fellows"—indicating Frank Bedford and Pat Hayes—"can take the dinghy and row up to Wootton Bridge and find a doctor. Bring him back with you. It's an urgent surgical case—compound fracture. And, since the post office is bound to be shut, the doctor will probably have a telephone. Ask him to let you use it. Ring up the number on the paper and give the message I've written down. Got that?"
"Yes, sir," replied both Sea Scouts, and without a moment's delay they brought the dinghy alongside the yacht, clambered into her, and rowed vigorously in the direction of Wootton Bridge.
"Now, lads," continued the Scoutmaster briskly,addressing the remaining three youths, "we've got to get the patient aboard here. I don't suppose our friends the Wootton Sea Scouts have left a stretcher on board, so we'll have to rig one up. Get busy. If we can do this part of the business before Mr. Collinson recovers consciousness so much the better. He won't feel the jolting."
The Sea Scouts had often constructed impromptu stretchers, and, in spite of being comparatively strange to the guardship and her gear, they soon got to work. A couple of short boat-hook staves, some light lashing, and a few blankets were all that were necessary.
While these preparations were in progress Mr. Graham had not been idle. In one of the large sleeping cabins on the upper deck he had prepared a comfortable bed in the centre of the room, so as to allow easy access to the patient from all sides. His next step was to light a couple of hurricane lanterns and hang them in the rigging of the yacht, so that the stretcher-bearers could see what they were doing when it came to transhipping the injured man.
With the aid of the stretcher it was not a very difficult task. The awkward part of the business was moving the patient from the sofa bunk on to the stretcher, without allowing his arm to come in contact with anything. Compared with this the work of lifting him up through the companion-way was fairly simple.
At length the still-unconscious Mr. Collinson was put to bed on board the guardship. The Sea Scouts made no attempt to revive him, since the Scoutmaster thought it best for the patient to remain insensible until after the doctor had made his examination.
The three Sea Scouts left on board the guardship while the rescue work was in progress had not been idle. There was a piping hot meal awaiting Mr. Graham, Desmond, and Findlay on their return, to which, after having changed their saturated clothes, they did full justice.
"Now, you fellows," said the Scoutmaster, "you had better turn in. There's nothing more to be done that I cannot do single-handed. If you don't get decent rest you'll be fit for nothing to-morrow."
The trio were reluctant to go, but they gave no sign of their feelings. It was discipline, and discipline was a subject upon which Mr. Graham laid particular stress. When he gave an order he gave an order, and it had to be carried out promptly. Yet he had the happy knack of serving out pills with a sugared coating. There was nothing harsh or unnecessary in his orders. The Sea Scouts knew this and admired him for it, while he on his part realized that unless discipline were maintained, without destroying a sense of self-reliance in the lads, it would be a risky, nay, positively dangerous business to be responsible for the lives of his youthful charges afloat.
The three Sea Scouts had not turned in more than five minutes before the dinghy returned bringing the doctor.
"Sorry to turn you out at this time of night," said Mr. Graham apologetically.
"Not at all," protested Dr. Baker, after they had mutually introduced themselves. "Part of my job, you know."
"The hardest-worked profession in the world," added the Scoutmaster, as he led the way to the cabin where Mr. Collinson was lying, after telling Bedford and Hayes to follow their comrades' example and turn in.
"H'm!" ejaculated Dr. Baker, when he examined the patient's arm. "Bit of a nasty mess. How did it occur?"
"I don't know," replied Mr. Graham, and proceeded to give a brief version of how he had found the owner of the yacht injured in his cabin.
With the Scoutmaster's assistance the doctor unbound the broken arm.
"Your youngsters know their work," said the medical man as he replaced the splints. "I've seen very little better work in some of the crack London hospitals. Oh, yes, when he comes to give him one of these pellets, and another in four hours' time if he's in much pain. I'll call in during the morning if you can send a boat for me at eleven sharp."
The Scoutmaster rowed the doctor to the quay. During the trip back to the guardship, Mr. Graham found himself wondering whether he had been wise in packing off his youngsters. Certain things had to be done, and if, while he was busy, the patient recovered consciousness it might be bad for the latter if there were no one on the spot.
Arriving alongside, Mr. Graham found that his surmises were correct. Mr. Collinson had regained consciousness, but fortunately Desmond had heard a noise and had gone to see what was the matter.
"How are you feeling now?" inquired Mr. Graham. "Rotten," declared Mr. Collinson pointedly. "This arm of mine is giving me what is commonly termed 'what for'."
"Take this," said the Scoutmaster, proffering the violet-coloured pellet. "Doctor's orders. He's been and gone."
"Morphine, eh? All right."
Ten minutes later the patient was sleeping soundly. Mr. Graham told Desmond to go to his bunk again; and, having seen that the dinghy was properly secured and that the yacht was lying comfortably alongside the guardship, the Scoutmaster "turned in all standing", ready at the first occasion to attend to his involuntary guest.
Nothing more of an unusual nature occurred during the night. At six in the morning the Sea Scouts turnedout, to find that the summer gale had blown itself out and that the sky was cloudless and the wind a gentle breeze from the west'ard.
"Not so much noise, you fellows," cautioned Desmond. "There's an injured man on board, remember."
"Tell us what happened," asked Bedford.
"There's nothing much to tell," replied the Patrol Leader. "We just went out, found Mr. Collinson with his arm broken, and brought the yacht in."
"How did he get his arm broken?" inquired the Tenderfoot.
"None of us knows," was the reply.
"I'd like to find out," continued Coles, scenting a mystery.
"You will soon, I expect," rejoined the Patrol Leader. "Now then; who's cook?"
"Bedford," replied three voices in chorus.
"Right-o! Get to work, old son," said Desmond, turning to the "cook of the day"; "and don't give us salt-water cocoa for breakfast."
The meal over, all hands "squared off", airing clothes and bedding, and stowing everything away in a ship-shape fashion. This last had only just been completed when a boatman came alongside with a passenger, Mrs. Collinson.
"Your husband is sleeping well," replied Mr. Graham. "The doctor will be here at eleven."
"How did the accident happen?" inquired Mrs. Collinson.
The Scoutmaster had to admit his ignorance. For the third time, at least, during the last eight or nine hours that question had been put without anyone being able to give a satisfactory reply.
"I was very anxious until I had your telephone message," continued Mrs. Collinson. "My husband and I are yachting—or I ought to say, were yachting. Yesterday morning we brought up off Ryde and I went ashore for the day, my husband having arranged to come ashore for me at nine. I was on the pier before that time, but theOcean Bridehad disappeared. As the wind had increased I thought that he might have had to clear out of the exposed anchorage and make for either Portsmouth Harbour or Cowes. So I went to the Solent Hotel—where I had previously arranged to go should anything occur to prevent my returning on board—and rang up the Customs at both places. When I had a reply that theOcean Bridehad not put into either harbour, I did begin to feel anxious, because it was blowing hard and my husband was single-handed. Of course, there was the motor——"
"Was there a motor on board?" broke in the Scoutmaster. "We didn't notice it in the dark, and no one has been on board this morning. It might have saved us a fair amount of hard work."
Just then Ted Coles appeared.
"Mr. Collinson is awake, sir," he repeated, with a smart salute.
The Scoutmaster escorted Mrs. Collinson to the cabin, and left her with her husband. A few minutes later the dinghy returned with Dr. Baker.
The doctor's report was most satisfactory. The patient was going on well. His temperature was only one degree above normal, and there was very little pain in the injured limb.
"He will probably be able to be moved to-morrow," added the medical man. "Where is your home, Mrs. Collinson?"
"At Derby," was the reply. "We are on our annual holiday. We always go sailing on the South Coast every summer."
"'Fraid you won't do any more this summer," declared Dr. Baker. "Derby's a long journey for a man with a compound fracture. Why not take rooms in the village until your husband is really able to stand the fatigue of a railway journey?"
"That is precisely what I thought of doing," said Mrs. Collinson, "until we can make arrangements to get the yacht back to her home port, Poole."
"There is no immediate hurry for you to get rooms," remarked Mr. Graham. "If you don't mind the company of a few rather high-spirited boys, we can fix you up with a cabin on board."
"That will be nice," exclaimed Mrs. Collinson,with genuine gratitude. "I am sure I'd quite enjoy it. But I hope it would not be putting you out?"
Dr. Baker took his leave, promising to look in again next morning unless something occurred to warrant an earlier visit.
Findlay rowed him ashore. The dinghy was away quite twice as long as the trip required, and when Jock returned he had a large basket in the stern-sheets.
Without saying a word to his companions on deck Findlay secured the dinghy and went below to the galley. There, in an atmosphere of steam, was Bedford in his robe of office—a white apron tied under his armpits.
"What's for dinner to-day, Frank?" inquired the Second.
"Irish stew," was the reply.
"How about a cup of tea for Mrs. Collinson?" continued the thoughtful Findlay.
"Just getting it," declared Bedford, indicating a metal tray on which were a couple of enamelled iron mugs and a plate of the same material, all showing signs of hard usage, while a battered tea-pot of huge proportions and a half-consumed tin of condensed milk completed the picture.
"Hardly what a lady would fancy, old son," remarked Findlay cheerfully. "This outfit ought to suit."
So saying, he opened his basket and produced twochina cups and saucers, plates, a small brown earthenware tea-pot, and a jug. From another compartment he took a bottle of fresh milk, a roll of bread, butter, and lump sugar; while, rolled up in a clean tablecloth were some knives.
Bedford regarded his chum with ill-disguised astonishment.
"Where did you get that lot from?" he asked. "Who paid for them? Did Mr. Graham give you the money?"
Jock shook his head.
"It's just my good turn for the day," he replied. "The people at the shop where I bought the grub lent me the crockery. They wouldn't charge for the loan of it, though I don't know why they didn't."
In a few minutes the transformation of the tea-tray was complete, and Findlay, cautiously negotiating the steep ladder to the upper deck saloon, brought his offering in safety to the person for whom it was intended. "How delicious!" exclaimed Mrs. Collinson. "Do you always have china cups on board? I don't. On our yacht we have to be content with plain enamelled ones."
For the rest of the day the Sea Scouts "carried on" as if the guardship was not sheltering an invalid. This was at the express wish of Mr. Collinson. But the lads took care not to disturb the invalid. For the most part they were away in the dinghy, exploringthe creek, indulging in glorious bathes on the sandy beach to the west'ard of the entrance, practising semaphore, and half a dozen other pleasurable tasks so dear to the heart of a Sea Scout.
All too soon came what Patrol Leader Desmond described as "the end of a perfect day".
On the following morning the curiosity of everyone interested in the mystery of theOcean Bridewas satisfied by Mr. Collinson, who was well enough to relate his adventures.
"There is really very little to tell," he began. "As you heard from my wife, I was on the yacht off Ryde, having arranged to go ashore about nine. Just before seven I noticed that it looked a bit dirty to wind'ard. In my interest in various small jobs I had to do on board, I had quite forgotten to look at the barometer. When at length I did, I saw that it had fallen nearly half an inch since the morning.
"Since the anchorage I was in is a very exposed one, and I was riding to my own anchor instead of picking up a stout mooring, I decided that the best thing to do was to make for Wootton Creek. Portsmouth was dead to wind'ard, Cowes didn't seem an enticing proposition, since it was a foul tide for the next two hours. And every yachtsman who knowsthe Solent realizes what Cowes Harbour, crowded as it is during the summer, is like in a northerly gale.
"So I hoisted sail, broke out the anchor, and got under way not a moment too soon. It was then about half-past eight, and the wind had piped up considerably.
"Of course my luck was out. When off Binstead the dinghy's painter parted. I didn't realize my loss until I saw the little boat drifting shoreward a good quarter of a mile astern."
"You lost her, then," remarked Mr. Graham.
"Yes, only temporarily, I hope," was the reply. "Of course, I put about and tried to pick her up, but by that time she was close to the edge of the mud. I had no wish to risk getting the yacht aground on a lee shore, so I put about again and carried on. I noticed some fishermen on the beach, so they no doubt have got hold of her.
"It did not take long to fetch the entrance to Wootton Creek. In fact, I was too early. There wasn't enough water forOcean Bride—she draws six feet two—so I had to anchor.
"At ten o'clock, or thereabouts, I prepared to go in under power. It was still sufficiently light for me to discern the beacons, although down below it was almost dark. I suppose I must have accidentally advanced the ignitor lever, for, at the first pull of the starting-handle, the motor back-fired. She had never done so before, and I never anticipated heracting in that manner. So much so that I did not take the simple precaution of keeping my thumb underneath the handle.
"The result was a crack that knocked me silly. I suppose I must have fainted. Then, when I pulled myself together a bit, I found out what the damage was. My only course was to signal for assistance. I trusted to the NC flags, meaning to try a flash lamp if they failed to be seen, but your Patrol Leader tells me he got the signal all right. What I was afraid of was my anchor dragging."
"As a matter of fact it did, sir," remarked Desmond; "but Mr. Graham hauled it aboard, and we got away in the yacht just in time."
"How about your dinghy?" inquired the Scoutmaster. "If you like we will fetch her for you."
"I'd be awfully pleased if you would," replied Mr. Collinson gratefully. "The men who picked her up will want payment, naturally, but I hope I shan't have to be bothered with formalities with the Receiver of Wrecks. I loathe that sort of business."
So during the forenoon, at about three hours before high water, Mr. Graham, Desmond, Bedford, and Hayes went off in their dinghy, leaving Ted Coles on board the guardship to act as cook, and Jock Findlay as officer of the watch.
It was a beautiful day for the trip—a calm sea with a light off-shore breeze. Rowing steadily and withoutundue haste and exertion, the Sea Scouts took a little less than an hour to makeBinstead Hard.
There were a few boats hauled up on the beach, but nothing resembling theOcean Bride'sdinghy. A little way along the shore was a fisherman mending his nets.
To him went Mr. Graham. The Scoutmaster "knew the ropes ". Instead of asking: "Have you seen or heard anything of a dinghy?" he opened the conversation by stating:
"We've come for the white dinghy that drove ashore here at about nine o'clock on the night before last."
"O-ay!" replied the man. "She be in t'boathouse over yonder back along. Me an' my mate picked her up, knowin' as 'ow you'd be up along soon. If you hadn't, Garge—him's my mate, you'll understand—was a-goin' into Ryde to report to the coast-guards."
The old fisherman led the way to a tumble-down shed. Unlocking the door he disclosed the truant.
"Is she damaged?" asked Mr. Graham.
"Not so much as a bit o' paint scraped off, sir," was the reply. "Me an' my mate just waded in—above our knees it wur—an' lifted her over the stones."
"Well, what do we owe you?" inquired the Scoutmaster, when the Sea Scouts had lifted the light dinghy and carried her to the water's edge.
"Leave it to you, sir," suggested the fisherman, with the wiliness of his class.
"I wouldn't if I were you," rejoined Mr. Graham, with equal guile. "You might be very disappointed if you did. Now, come on. What do you think is a reasonable sum for the trouble to which you have been placed?"
"Dunno, I'm sure, sir," replied the old man, scratching his head as he strove to solve the problem. Then, seized with an inspiration, he added: "I'll call my mate. He'll know."
The old fellow glanced up and down the shore, and then regarded the expanse of sea with a watery eye, as if he were looking for his far-distant partner.
"Garge!" he bawled. "Where be to?"
With uncanny suddenness a hulking giant in jersey, heavy cloth trousers, and sea-boots, appeared in a gap in the brushwood that grew almost down to the water's edge. Evidently pal Garge meant to be on the spot—an unseen listener if his partner succeeded in "touching the gent handsomely" or an active participator in any bargaining that might ensue.
"What be the trouble, Jim?" he asked, with an overacted air of disinterestedness.
"This gen'l'man 'ere," replied Jim, "'as come to fetch the lil' dinghy. Wot's a fair sum to charge 'im for our trouble?"
"'Tes for you ter say, Jim," declared Garge. "Afair reasonable sum an' the gen'l'man 'll be only too pleased to square up."
Jim ruminated a good thirty seconds, covertly regarding Mr. Graham with a half averted face.
"Will five quid hurt you?" he asked at length.
"Just the sum as I was a-goin' to suggest," added Garge promptly.
"It would," replied the Scoutmaster, addressing Jim and ignoring Garge's corroboration. "To me five pounds represents two days' work, and strenuous work at that. Now, tell me: what did you do in picking up the dinghy to warrant a payment of five pounds?"
"It blawed tur'ble 'ard," declared Jim, in extenuation of his claims.
"And yet the dinghy came ashore undamaged," countered Mr. Graham.
"An' us went over our knees in water," countered Jim.
"Ay, over our knees in water," repeated Garge, with parrot-like fidelity.
"But you were wearing thigh boots," said Mr. Graham swiftly. "In those conditions you had no inconvenience and certainly no risk. And, what is more to the point, you had the boat and made no attempt to immediately report the matter to the Receiver of Wrecks. Immediately, mind. Those are the official instructions."
"Don't be 'ard on a couple o' pore seafarin' men, sir," said Jim.
"I don't mean to be," replied Mr. Graham. "At the same time I don't mean to allow myself to be done. You understand that? Good. Well, here's a pound note. That's all you'll get out of me. Desmond and Bedford, launch the boat and push off."
A few minutes later both dinghies at about five yards abreast were heading for Wootton Creek.
"Only a pound!" exclaimed Mr. Collinson, when the matter was told him. "That was quite reasonable. If it had been me I should have paid whatever the sharks asked. I suppose it's a failing of mine."
"Which makes it bad for others who cannot afford to pay through the nose," rejoined Mr. Graham. "Fortunately, I know the ways of the longshore-men, and Messrs. James Jell and George Grainger have the reputation of being the biggest rascals amongst the boatmen of the Island. I found that out before we went for the dinghy. They had to clear out from Ventnor on account of a very shady transaction, and at Sea View they narrowly escaped prosecution for stealing gear from another boatman."
"I've been talking matters over with my wife," said Mr. Collinson, abruptly changing the subject. "Naturally I don't want to thrust myself upon you longer than I can possibly help. And I'm not at all keen upon going into apartments for the next sixweeks. I came down here to be afloat, and I jolly well mean to be afloat, a broken arm notwithstanding." The Scoutmaster nodded gravely.
"You're not intruding upon us," he said. "What we did was up to us as Scouts."
"I do not doubt that," rejoined Mr. Collinson. "But tell me: your lads wear the Southend-on-Sea shoulder-straps; what brings you down to this part of the south coast?"
Mr. Graham explained.
"Then you haven't a—er—guardship, I think you call it, of your own?"
"No; but we have an ex-naval boat," replied Mr. Graham. "My lads get a good deal of fun and instruction out of her."
"Centre-board?" inquired Mr. Collinson, with the interest of a typical yachtsman in nautical matters.
"No, unfortunately," admitted the Scoutmaster. "It limits us, of course; but half a loaf's better than no bread. At least we've something to go afloat in, and she isn't such a bad sort of craft."
"To-morrow," announced Mr. Collinson, "my wife and I are going on board our yacht. We intend to use her as a house-boat until I'm fit again. In this sheltered creek there will be no difficulty about getting ashore, and my wife can manage the dinghy quite well. If you wouldn't mind mooring theOcean Brideabout a cable's-length astern of you I'll be most grateful."
"Certainly," agreed Mr. Graham, "and if, while we are here, I or any of my lads can be of service to you, don't hesitate to ask."
"How long do you propose staying here?" asked Mr. Collinson.
Mr. Graham looked up sharply. He fancied he saw a twinkle in the questioner's eye.
"Until the end of August, I hope."
"Is there any reason why you should not alter your plans?" continued the persistent inquisitor.
"'Man proposes——'" quoted the Scoutmaster.
"Quite so," agreed Mr. Collinson. "I too have a proposal to make. As I remarked before, my wife and I have been talking things over. We feel that we are greatly in your debt for what you have done for us, and we wish to make some sort of acknowledgment of our gratitude."
"But——" protested Mr. Graham.
"Let me have my say," persisted the other. "My proposition is this: I have a nine-ton yawl, theSpindrift, lying at Bude, on the north coast of Cornwall. I don't suppose I'll ever sail her again now I have theOcean Bride. I'm not particularly keen on selling her. If I advertise her there are pages and pages of correspondence before the deal's completed—and I hate writing business letters. So what do you say to this? I will hand her over absolutely to the 9th Southend Sea Scouts, but you must navigate her roundeither to the Solent or else the East Coast, whichever you prefer."
"I'll be only too pleased to accept your kind offer," said Mr. Graham.
"Good," rejoined Mr. Collinson. "I thought you would. Now then, let's go into details."
"Couldn't we have the boys in?" asked the Scoutmaster. "They'd like to hear all about your gift to them."
"If you like," agreed Mr. Collinson. "As long as we stick to facts, I don't mind; but don't make a song about what I've done. I hate having to hear my praises sung and all that sort of thing. After all, it'squid pro quo, or one good turn deserves another."
The Scoutmaster went into the charthouse and looked around. Desmond, Bedford, and Hayes were paddling around in the dinghy, Findlay was fitting up a fishing-line. Coles as "cook of the day" was in the galley.
The Scoutmaster gave a shrill blast on his whistle. "All hands!" he shouted from the head of the quarter-deck ladder.
The summons was smartly obeyed, and the five Sea Scouts fell in and awaited orders.
"Mr. Collinson wishes to have a palaver with you," announced Mr. Graham briefly.The lads filed into the saloon on the upper deck, where Mr. Collinson was sitting In a comfortable arm-chair in front of a large window that commanded an extensive view of the creek. His injured arm was in a sling, but, apart from that, he looked in perfect condition.
Mr. Collinson looked at Mr. Graham; Mr. Graham looked at Mr. Collinson. For some moments there was absolute silence, each waiting for the other to speak.
"Fire away!" prompted the patient.
"It's your show," retorted the Scoutmaster, then without a break he addressed his lads: "Mr. Collinson has made the troop a present. He will explain the nature of the gift."
Mr. Collinson cleared his throat. He realized that the Scoutmaster was "one up". He had no option but to speak.
"It's only this," he began. "You're a jolly decent crowd of fellows. I've had you under observation, don't you see, and you're really smart at boat work. Your Scoutmaster tells me that you have only an old ship's boat. You deserve something better. I am giving you a yacht—no, not theOcean Bride," he said hurriedly, as more than one pair of eyes turned in the direction of the yacht lying alongside. "The one I'm handing over to you is theSpindrift, which is a little more than half the size of theOcean Bride."
"Thanks awfully much, sir," replied the Sea Scouts in chorus; then in their excitement they volleyed a string of questions: "Where is she, sir? What is she like? When can we have her?"
"Steady!" protested Mr. Collinson smilingly. "One question at a time. Do any of you fellows know what a Falmouth quay punt is like?"
Most of the Sea Scouts did not. The word "punt" conveyed the idea of a small, flat-bottomed craft used for duck-shooting. That sounded like "very small beer" compared with a yacht.
"I know, sir," replied Findlay. "A square-sterned boat, drawing about six feet, with a dipping-lug mainsail and a standing lug mizzen. I've read about them in one of the yachting papers."
"Good lad!" exclaimed the donor approvingly. "Well, theSpindriftis something of that type, only she's a yacht. She is thirty-two feet over all, with a beam of nine feet and a draught of five feet ten inches. She is straight-stemmed and has a transom stern. She's an old boat but quite sound, so you needn't be afraid of the keel dropping off in a seaway. In fact, the whole of the keel bolts were renewed eighteen months ago. What is a dipping-lug, Coles?"
The Tenderfoot knew. Although that type of sail is not common in the Essex estuaries, he had seen Scottish fishing-boats at Yarmouth.
"A sail you have to lower a little and set it on theother side of the mast whenever you go about, sir," he replied promptly.
"Which means a lot of hard work, especially in a stiff breeze," added Mr. Collinson. "Well, that would be beyond you fellows, I fancy, but you needn't let that trouble you. TheSpindriftis ketch-rigged with gaff mainsail and mizzen. She's rather under-canvassed, which is in her favour. The West Country boatmen used to tell me she'd 'starve me before she drowned me', which is the same as saying she's slow but very seaworthy. She has a cabin and a watertight cockpit, so if you happen to be caught out there's little to fear, provided you know how to manage her."
"Where is she, sir?" asked Hayes. "At Cowes?"
"A good deal farther away than Cowes," came the reply. "She's at Bude, which is in Cornwall. You'll have to sail her round Land's End."
"How topping, sir," exclaimed Desmond. "When can we go for her?"
"That, I take it, depends upon your Scoutmaster's arrangements," said Mr. Collinson. "It is out of my province altogether. I'll write to Brice and Sons—they're in charge of her—and tell them to launch her and put her on moorings as soon as possible. Well, that's that. I wish you jolly good luck with theSpindrift."
The Sea Scouts gave three cheers, then, almost falling over each other and themselves in their excitement, they went on deck to discuss their good fortune.
"I wonder why he gave the yacht to us?" asked Bedford.
"'Cause we did him a few good turns," replied the Tenderfoot.
"We didn't expect any reward, though," added Findlay, true to the traditions of Scouting. "And no one can say we cadged from him."
"Like that troop of Sea Scouts we read about the other day," added the Patrol Leader. "They got hold of a seaplane float somewhere, and then advertised for someone to give them a motor to shove into it. Give, mind you! It's like taking a button to a tailor and asking him to make a suit to take it for nothing. But we're lucky. I wonder when we start and how we're going to get there?"
"What I want to know," said Bedford, "is who's going to stay and look after the guardship? We're responsible to the Wootton Bridge Sea Scouts until they come home."
The others drew long faces at that. The proposition had not occurred to them before.
"Bradley and some of the other chaps will be coming down," declared Findlay. "Mr. Graham heard from them this morning."
Bradley was the Patrol Leader of the Otters, belonging to the same troop as Desmond.
"Yes, in a fortnight's time," said Hayes gloomily. "We don't want to wait till then."
"And they might want to come, too," added Findlay. "After all, they've got a right to. TheSpindriftwas given to the troop, and not to Mr. Graham and us five only."
"Mr. Collinson said 'you lads'," remarked the Tenderfoot.
"Coles," said the Patrol Leader, "you hop it! The palaver ended ten minutes ago. You're cook; it's nearly tea-time and we're hungry. Off you go."
Much as the Tenderfoot wished to hear the end of the discussion, he went without a murmur. He realized that the Patrol Leader had the authority to send him back to duty, and Desmond's word was law when, in the absence of the Scoutmaster, he was in charge of the patrol.
"We'll tell you everything at tea," called out Desmond after the departing cook. "In fact," he added, addressing the others, "we ought to wait till the kid's present. He's one of us, although he's only a tenderfoot."
Mr. Graham was quite a long time before he put in an appearance. He had been talking with Mr. Collinson, and it was not until the whistle sounded for tea that he rejoined the rest of the patrol.
"When do we start, sir?" asked the lads.
"On Monday, all being well," was the reply. "But before we make final arrangements there are many points to discuss. The first one is, how do we get to Bude?"
"Trek there, sir," suggested Bedford. "It would cost an awful lot to go by train."
"Too far," objected the Scoutmaster. "If we had plenty of time it might be done. No, our best plan will be to walk to Cowes, take steamer to Southampton, and then train as far as Exeter. That leaves us fifty miles, mostly across Dartmoor. We might trek that distance in two days, but we'll be carrying full pack, remember."
"And camp out on the way, sir?" asked Hayes. "That will be fine."
"Let's hope it will be fine," added Findlay jocularly. "And how long will it take to sail theSpindriftround, sir, do you think? Has she a motor?"
"No, she hasn't, unfortunately," replied Mr. Graham, thinking of the old days during the war when three years in an M.L. rather spoiled him for long and possibly tedious trips under sail only. "So I can't say how long it will take us. We may get a fair breeze round the land and up-Channel; or we may get alternate calms and strong head winds. That is a matter quite beyond our control. There's another point: a couple of hands must stay here to give an eye to things. And it's up to us to assist Mr.Collinson while he's practically helpless on board his yacht."
"A couple of hands, sir?" asked Bedford.
"Yes, a couple," was the reply. "One will be company for the other until Bradley, Johns, and Dexter turn up."
Mr. Graham was on the point of asking who would volunteer and remain, but on consideration he decided that it was asking rather too much of the keen youngsters.
"Desmond goes in any case," he continued. "He will be in charge when I'm off duty, if we have to make a long passage. That leaves four of you to pick from. I think the fairest way would be to take two for half the trip, say from Bude to Plymouth, and the other two, when relieved, can come to Plymouth by train and carry on from there. We'll draw for it."
Producing three matches, Mr. Graham cut one in half and held the two long and two short pieces between his finger and thumb, so that the visible ends were perfectly level.
"Now, Coles, take one."
The Tenderfoot drew a short stick. So did Bedford. "That settles it," announced the Scoutmaster. "Findlay and Hayes take on from Bude to Plymouth; the others from Plymouth to Wootton."
By the first post on Saturday morning came a letter from the yacht chandlers at Bude, stating that theSpindriftwould be launched forthwith and handed over whenever her new owners came for her.
The rest of that morning was a busy one. Not only had the usual routine of "clearing up and squaring off" to be carried out, but preparations had to be made for the commencement of the journey to Bude on the following Monday. In addition, Mr. Collinson had arranged to shift his quarters from the guardship to theOcean Bride, and the yacht had to be moored securely astern.
It was quite a difficult operation to place the yacht on her new berth and keep her there. Owing to the narrowness of the channel at low water, and to the fact that a clear passage had to be left for other craft, theOcean Bridehad to be moored fore and aft close to the mud on the starboard hand of the creek. If she were allowed to swing she would obstruct the fairway, while to moor her fore and aft required tackleof sufficient strength to withstand the hardest wind likely to be encountered full on her beam.
Just below high-water mark the Sea Scouts drove in two sets of stout piles, each three in number, with one placed about four feet in the wake of the other two. Each set was ninety feet from the other. These comprised the shore moorings.
The yacht was then dropped astern of the guardship, her main anchor having been previously laid out in the stiff mud on the port side of the channel. To the mooring on the starboard side, corresponding with the anchor, a four-inch warp was run out from the yacht's bows, the end of the rope being wound round the three piles and "racked back", so that each of the piles bore approximately an equal strain.
As the tide was now ebbing the yacht rode to both the chain cable and the warp.
"Now, lads!" exclaimed the Scoutmaster. "That's done the trick as far as the ebb affects the yacht. All that remains is to make provision for the flood-tide, otherwise she'll swing, which is what she mustn't do." At Mr. Graham's direction a spare length of chain, about fifteen fathoms in length, was shackled to the kedge and the latter "run out" on the yacht's port quarter; while a three-inch warp led from the starboard quarter to the second group of piles. Stationing one Sea Scout at each of the chains and warps, the Scoutmaster gave the necessary directionsuntil the yacht was moved into the desired position close to the edge of the channel.
"Now she cannot possibly shift more than two or three feet," he announced. "No matter the direction of the wind or tide, she'll be held securely. That's what is meant by mooring fore and aft. Now, can any of you fellows tell me if this particular job is finished off properly?"
Desmond and Findlay thought that it was and said so. Bedford, Hayes, and Coles thought so too, but made no audible comment.
"Look at those two chains," continued Mr. Graham. "They are stretching across the fairway. True, they sag under their own weight, but if the wind comes in at all hard from the east'ard they'll show above the surface. Even now I doubt whether they are more than three of four feet down. A vessel coming up to Wootton Bridge would be almost certain to foul them."
"Then we'll have to give her a bit more chain, sir," suggested Findlay.
"Which means that she'll drift closer to the bank," added Mr. Graham. "At high tide she'll touch the mud, then when the tide falls she'll heel over almost on her beam ends. I'm sure Mr. and Mrs. Collinson wouldn't appreciate that."
"Can't we weight the chains with something, sir?" asked Ted Coles.
"That's the game," agreed the Scoutmaster. "We'll have to get a couple of pigs of ballast and lash them to the bight of each chain. Ask Mr. Collinson if he has any short lengths of wire rope on board, Desmond; if not, we'll have to use rope, although it's not so suitable as wire."
"There's some on the for'ard port locker in the fo'c'sle," said Mr. Collinson, who had been sitting in the cockpit and watching the Sea Scouts' activities with marked approval.
The Patrol Leader went below and returned with three short lengths of flexible wire.
"Now for the pigs of ballast," exclaimed Jock Findlay.
"Be careful," cautioned Mr. Graham. "They weigh about a hundredweight, and we've got to take them in the dinghy. Two hands will be enough."
The dinghy was brought alongside. Across her gunwale, and partly supported by the transom, was placed a one-inch board, over which was folded a piece of canvas to protect the varnish work from rust and mud.
"Get in for'ard, Hayes," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Jock, you get in aft and follow my directions carefully. There's no need for haste, and remember if you bungle you'll probably swamp the boat."
Meanwhile, Desmond and Bedford had hoisted one pig of ballast on to the yacht's deck by means of adouble sling. The next operation was to transfer the heavy lump of iron from the yacht to the board in the stern of the dinghy. This was accomplished by means of the starboard runners.
"Now work along the chain, Findlay," continued Mr. Graham. "At that," he added, when about ten feet of chain rested on the board by the side of the pig of ballast.
Jock's next task was to lash the ballast to the chain, which he did by reeving the wire through a hole at each end of the pig and taking it round the chain, repeating the operation at least half a dozen times and finishing off with a reef-knot.
"Give way, Pat," ordered the Scoutmaster.
Hayes plied his oars vigorously. The dinghy gathered way. Slowly the chain tautened, and then the pig of ballast began to slide over the board, until, assisted by a vigorous push by Findlay, the mass of iron disappeared beneath the surface.
The chain, instead of taking a gentle curve, now dipped steeply, the additional weight causing the bight to lie upon the bottom of the channel.
"Now, that cable is not in anyone's way," explained the Scoutmaster. "Spell-ho for all hands for five minutes! You've earned it."
The short interval for rest was quickly over. Then the chain on the yacht's port quarter had to be treated in a similar manner.
This time the Sea Scouts carried out the work without any directions from their Scoutmaster, the Patrol Leader superintending the operation. Mr. Graham was keen on encouraging initiative in his lads, and on this occasion, as on many others, he had no cause to find fault. Everything had gone without a hitch, except, as Findlay remarked, the hitches on the cable. This done, the Sea Scouts returned to the guardship for dinner.
"Look, sir!" exclaimed Hayes, pointing with a rust-stained finger in the direction of the entrance to the creek. "There's a motor-boat coming right up. We've only just finished in time."
"Yes," agreed Mr. Graham. "She's a fairly big craft, too. She'll test our work for us."
Desmond had picked up a telescope, and was examining the on-coming vessel.
"Why, sir!" he announced. "She's a Sea Scout boat. At least she's manned by Sea Scouts. I wonder what she's doing here?"
"The creek's free to anybody," rejoined Findlay. "We're not the only Sea Scouts. I expect they'll land at the Bridge."
Meanwhile Mr. Graham had been making good use of his binoculars.
"I've seen that craft before," he remarked. "Only she was painted grey. I may be mistaken, but I don'tthink so."
He returned the glasses to their case and picked up his peaked cap.
"Fall in on the quarter-deck, lads," he ordered. "Smartly, now; stand by to give them a full salute when they pass."
The Sea Scouts took up their position as directed, standing easy until the Scoutmaster gave the order: "Alert!"
"She's slowing down, sir," said Findlay.
"'Cause they don't want to swamp the dinghy with their wash," explained Desmond. "They've passed over theOcean Bride'schains all right."
On board the on-coming craft a Scoutmaster and three Sea Scouts were visible on deck. They were showing no signs of coming to attention. One of the crew was handling a warp up for'ard, while another was coiling up a rope on the aft-deck. It was not until a third hung out a couple of fenders, and stood by with a boat-hook, that the crew of the guardship realized that the motor-boat was coming alongside.
"Dismiss!" ordered Mr. Graham. "Stand by to take their warps."
With her motor running free with the clutch out, the boat lost way, coming alongside so gently that only the faintest "touch astern" was necessary.
The two Scoutmasters saluted.
"Come aboard!" exclaimed Mr. Graham. "I've met you before, I think. My name's Graham."
"And mine is Armitage," rejoined the other. "Is Mr. Tweedie aboard?"
"Sorry, he's not," replied Mr. Graham. "He's over in France with his troop."
Scoutmaster Armitage had been glancing at the shoulder-straps of the temporary crew of the guardship.
"Southend-on-Sea," he remarked. "We hardly expected to find East Coast Sea Scouts down this part of the world."
Mr. Graham explained.
"Bring your crew aboard, too," he added. "They might like to have a look round."
"That is precisely what we came for," said Mr. Armitage with a laugh. "We'd heard about the Wootton Bridge Sea Scouts' guardship, and we made up our minds to have a run across to inspect her. Our craft is theOlivette, and we hail from Milford-on-Sea. You say you met me before, eh? I'm afraid I cannot recollect the circumstances."
"You were very, very tired," explained Mr. Graham. "It was at Brightlingsea two years ago last May. One of your lads, Woodby——"
"Woodleigh," corrected Mr. Armitage.
"Yes, Woodleigh. I remember he brought theOlivetteinto Brightlingsea in a hard blow. You'd had rather a rough time in the Thames estuary. I happened to be at Brightlingsea at the time."
"Of course, I remember now," replied Mr. Armitage. "Two years ago! How time flies! Yes, I still have Woodleigh. He's a Patrol Leader now. Did you recollect Stratton? He's at sea, doing well."
Meanwhile the crews of the two vessels were fraternizing, and both craft were visited and inspected.
"She's a lump of a boat," declared Patrol Leader Woodleigh to his opposite number, Desmond. "It's a pity you can't go to sea in her. You miss a lot. We've been across to France, and as far west as Penzance. On Monday we're off to Plymouth."
"Yes," admitted Desmond. "I agree. A stationary guardship isn't like a sea-going boat, but still there's lots of fun to be got out of her. She's only lent us, as you know; but we're in luck. You see that yacht just astern of us? Her owner has given us a yacht almost as large as she."
"Good business!" exclaimed Woodleigh approvingly. "Motor?"
"No, sail."
"H'm, s'pose it's all right," rejoined the confirmed marine engine expert. "Pity she hasn't an engine, though. It saves an awful lot of fag if there's no wind. Where is she?"
"At Bude."
"Where's that?"
"North coast of Cornwall. We—that is, Mr. Graham, Findlay, Hayes, and myself—are going bytrain to Exeter and hiking it across Dartmoor to Bude. It'll be rather good sport, eh?"
"Rather," agreed Woodleigh. "I don't know about the hiking part, though. Never was very keen on tramping—much prefer being afloat. We're going down to Plymouth to tow back a dinghy for a friend of Mr. Armitage."
"Wouldn't it be cheaper to send a small boat like that by rail?" asked Desmond.
"I don't know about that," answered Woodleigh. "You see, we have as much paraffin given us as we want. It's a paraffin engine, you know; and when Mr. Murgatroyd—he's the gentleman who made us a present of theOlivette—handed over the boat, he arranged for us to have paraffin free, so we've only to buy petrol for starting up and oil for lubricating. And fetching that dinghy means going somewhere with a definite object. We'd be cruising in any case, so now we are going to do a good turn. Have you ever been down the West Coast?"
Desmond shook his head.
"Only on the East Coast—Southend and Harwich way."
"Don't think much of that part," said Woodleigh. "Too jolly flat. But perhaps it wasn't up to sample when we were there in theOlivette. You should see Devon and Cornwall—the coast especially. Why, I think there's nothing to touch them anywhere inEngland for scenery and good harbours. Look here, I've got a scheme. Couldn't you all come down to Plymouth with us? That would save you a long railway journey, and you needn't have so far to tramp. What do you say?"
"Of course I'd like it," replied Desmond, "but——"
"I'll ask our Scoutmaster," interrupted Woodleigh. "He'll be only too pleased. Hello, Flemming, old son, I was just saying that these fellows ought to go down-Channel with us. I'm just off to ask Mr. Armitage."
"Save yourself the fag, my festive," rejoined Eric Flemming, Woodleigh's special chum. "Mr. Armitage has asked Mr. Graham already. You fellows have just an hour and a half to get ready," he added, addressing the Patrol Leader of the Southend Sea Scouts. "You're coming back to Keyhaven with us, and we're putting you up on board."