“Where’s the line?” he asked. “There’s a man out there. Look out for Molly.”
At that moment Mr. Grant and Carline appeared through the fog. Already Peter was securing one end of the rope round his waist.
“Look after Molly,” he reiterated. “She’ll be after me if you don’t.” And, handing the coiled portion of the rope to Mr. Grant and Brandon, Craddock rushed into the water.
For the first ten yards his progress was hastened by the undertow. Masses of milk-white foam mingled with moving sand were swirling round his legs and urging him on. He could see that the succeeding breaker would be upon him before he could get into deeper water. If it caught him squarely it would hurl him like a stone upon the beach, and probably batter the breath from his body.
The crest towered high above his head. It was almost upon him. But Peter kept a cool head. As the wave broke, he dived into it, felt himself being borne backwards, was conscious of his feet coming in contact with the ground. He wanted to kick, to leap until his head appeared above the surging torrent. He felt he could keep his breath no longer.
At last he broke surface and found himself beyond the breaker. He struck out vigorously. Found himself impeded.
“Pay out more line, you fellows!” he shouted.
He might well have saved his breath, for his voice was inaudible in the roar of the surf. It wasn’t that Brandon had neglected to give more scope to the line; it was the drag of the water against it.
There was no sign of the man he was risking his life to save. Another wave came up, foaming ready to break. Peter surmounted it just before the angry crest toppled over. As he did so something was thrown against his side—something that felt like a sack of saturated sawdust.
Instantly Peter gripped the object. It was the senseless body of a man.
Now came the supreme effort—to regain the beach without being pounded by the breakers. It was easy enough to come ashore—the waves would see to that—but it was far from a simple task to protect himself and his senseless burden from the terrible onslaught of the hammering surf. And such a lot depended upon the life-line being hauled in at exactly the right moment.
The life-line, hitherto a hindrance, was now apparently uselessly slack. Vaguely, Peter found himself wondering what possessed the fellows on the beach: why on earth weren’t they hauling away for all they were worth?
Then it occurred to him that even at that short distance the shore was hidden in the fog. A mild panic seized him. What if the rope had parted and he was being carried out to sea?
Not for one moment did he relax his grip upon his unconscious, perhaps lifeless, burden. Another roller was on the point of breaking. Would it batter him into a state of insensibility?
It overtook him, fortunately without toppling over. Right on the crest he found himself, being urged towards the shore at a tremendous pace. Then with a loud roar the unstable mass broke. Peter felt his feet touch the yielding sand. He was surrounded by a swirling torrent of foam and hurled sideways like a sack of flour.
Then he was conscious of the life-line tautening. He was being swept back by the undertow. In desperation he threw arms and legs round the form of the helpless seaman in an endeavour to prevent him being torn from his grasp.
The rope held. Half a dozen lusty men and youths were tailing on to it. The pressure was terrific. The sand, washed down by the undertow, rasped Craddock’s face, hands, and knees. His lungs seemed on the point of bursting.
Another wave was rearing its formidable crest. Peter eyed it with apprehension. Magnified in the fog, it looked higher than it actually was, but the power behind it was none the less. He wondered whether he could survive the threatened hammering of the tremendous thunderous mass.
He was dimly conscious of vague forms surrounding him, grasping arms and legs. Still he held on to his helpless burden, and, since they could not be separated, the pair were literally dragged beyond the reach of the breaker.
It fell harmlessly, and, like a monster baulked of its prey, retired growling and muttering to merge into the turmoil of tumbling breakers.
CHAPTER XXVHome Again
When Petercame to himself he was lying on the wet sand with his head pillowed on a greatcoat. Something warm was licking his face. It was Molly. Overjoyed at her master’s return, she could not be restrained from showing her joy and relief in true doggie fashion, and her delight redoubled when the Sea Scout opened his eyes and attempted to sit up.
“Good old Peter!” exclaimed Brandon. “How do you feel?”
“As if I’d been sand-papered,” replied Craddock, with perfect truthfulness. Then, recalling the reason for his present plight, he asked, “Where’s the fellow we rescued? Is he dead?”
“He’s alive,” declared the Patrol Leader, and, turning to Mr. Grant, he asked in a low voice, “Can I tell him?”
“Yes, do,” answered the Scoutmaster.
“Do you know who the fellow is?” continued Brandon. “It’s Carlo Bone—Blueskin.”
Peter sat up.
“Really?” he rejoined. “Where is he?”
“In a farm-house with the others,” replied the Patrol Leader. “All the crew of the vessel have been accounted for. The patrols are being withdrawn. I say, old man, can you walk or have we to carry you?”
“I’ll walk,” declared Craddock stoutly.
They assisted him to his feet. He felt rather groggy, for he had swallowed a fair quantity of salt water and had been considerably bruised in his struggle with the waves. Walking required a great effort, and he was glad to take his chum Brandon’s arm.
“I reckon this night’s work means a Silver Cross for you, my lad,” declared Heavitree.
“Think so?” rejoined Peter. “I say; now I tumble to it. That bucket lashed to our rudder. Blueskin must have done that. Won’t he look bluer than he is when he finds out we know.”
And Craddock went off into fits of hysterical laughter and sat down inertly in a muddy lane.
The Sea Scouts carried him after that.
They did not take him on board that night. Instead, he was put to bed in the shore hospital tent, where Mr. Grant remained watching by his side.
Next morning Peter awoke feeling quite his normal self except for the fact that his limbs were a bit stiff.
That afternoon Peter, accompanied by Mr. Grant, Brandon, and Heavitree, went over to see the man he had rescued. The visit was paid at Blueskin’s request, for the man was really grateful. Nevertheless the expression on his face was one of comical dismay when he recognised the members of theKestrel’screw.
“I’m right down sorry I played the dirty on yer,” he declared.
“That’s all right,” replied Mr. Grant. “We’ll call the account square. But why did you?”
“It’s like this ’ere,” explained Blueskin. “I war fair upset when I found you’d bought that there boat. I wanted ’er, and seein’ as I didn’t get ’er, I sort o’ made up my mind no one else shouldn’t. I oughtn’t tu ’ave tried to set she afire, but I reckoned as you’d get out afore any ’arm was done yer.”
“Neither was there, fortunately,” added the Scoutmaster. “But we didn’t know you were the fellow. We thought you might be, so we kept watch on your house all night.”
“I knows you did,” agreed Blueskin. “You were outside my house when I got ’ome.”
“And how did you manage that?” asked Peter.
Blueskin gave the suspicion of a wink.
“That’s tellin’,” he answered oracularly. “But I’m a-goin’ straight arter this, I am,” he declared.
“Good!” exclaimed Craddock. “We hope you will. But I think you can answer my question: isn’t there an underground passage between old Dick Marner’s shed and your cottage?”
For a moment Blueskin looked thunderstruck.
“Yes,” he admitted. “Sure there is. ’Ow did you twig it? Sakes alive! A chap like me must get up very early in t’mornin’ tu get to wind’ard of a Sea Scout, I’m thinkin’.”
“How did you find out about the secret tunnel?” asked Brandon of his chum after the interview with Carlo Bone.
“I didn’t,” replied Peter. “It was a guess on my part. I’d been thinking things over, and, like Mr. Grant got it out of young Marner that he hadn’t a motor bike, that rather confirmed my theory, although, of course, I might have been wide of the mark.”
Little more remains to be told.
The Jamboree ran its course in perfect weather and with unabated enthusiasm. At its termination, Eric Little was sent to his uncle’s house at Chichester, where life for him was considerably brightened by his being able to have friends of his own age. He lost no time in becoming a Cub.
After the termination of the Sea Scouts’ marine festival, the assembly of yachts and boats dispersed. TheKestrelgot away in company with nearly a dozen craft bound for the eastern part of the English Channel and the East Coast. Three days later she entered Aberstour Harbour and made fast alongside the quay in the berth the oldPuffinhad so long occupied.
“We’ve had a topping time,” declared Heavitree, as the crew prepared to disperse to their respective homes. “Course we’ve had sticky times, too; but what’s the use of being Sea Scouts if we don’t know how to tackle them?”
“We haven’t done so badly,” admitted Craddock cautiously. “We’re here, safe and sound, that’s the main point. And I don’t think it’s entirely owing to good luck. I rather fancy there’s another reason, and a jolly good one.”
“What’s that?” enquired his chum.
“We’ve kept to the good old Scout’s motto: ‘Be Prepared.’ ”
THE END
THE IAN HARDY SERIES
BY
COMMANDER E. HAMILTON CURREY, R.N.
Each Volume with Illustrations in Colour. 5s. nett.
Ian Hardy’scareer in H.M. Navy is told in four volumes, which are described below. Each volume is complete in itself, and no knowledge of the previous volumes is necessary, but few boys will read one of the series without wishing to peruse the others.
Ian Hardy’scareer in H.M. Navy is told in four volumes, which are described below. Each volume is complete in itself, and no knowledge of the previous volumes is necessary, but few boys will read one of the series without wishing to peruse the others.
IAN HARDY, NAVAL CADET
“A sound and wholesome story giving a lively picture of a naval cadet’s life.”
Birmingham Gazette.
“A very wholesome book for boys, and the lurking danger of Ian’s ill deeds being imitated may be regarded as negligible in comparison with the good likely to be done by the example of his manly, honest nature. Ian was a boy whom his father might occasionally have reason to whip, but never feel ashamed of.”—United Service Magazine.
“A very wholesome book for boys, and the lurking danger of Ian’s ill deeds being imitated may be regarded as negligible in comparison with the good likely to be done by the example of his manly, honest nature. Ian was a boy whom his father might occasionally have reason to whip, but never feel ashamed of.”—United Service Magazine.
IAN HARDY, MIDSHIPMAN
“A jolly sequel to his last year’s book.”—Christian World.“The ‘real thing.’ . . . Certain to enthral boys of almost any age who love stories of British pluck.”—Observer.“Commander E. Hamilton Currey, R.N., is becoming a serious rival to Kingston as a writer of sea stories.Just as a former generation revelled in Kingston’s doings of his three heroes from their middy days until they became admirals all, so will the present-day boys read with interest the story of Ian Hardy. Last year we knew him as a cadet; this year we getIan Hardy, Midshipman. The present instalment of his stirring history is breezily written.”—Yorkshire Observer.
“A jolly sequel to his last year’s book.”—Christian World.
“The ‘real thing.’ . . . Certain to enthral boys of almost any age who love stories of British pluck.”—Observer.
“Commander E. Hamilton Currey, R.N., is becoming a serious rival to Kingston as a writer of sea stories.Just as a former generation revelled in Kingston’s doings of his three heroes from their middy days until they became admirals all, so will the present-day boys read with interest the story of Ian Hardy. Last year we knew him as a cadet; this year we getIan Hardy, Midshipman. The present instalment of his stirring history is breezily written.”—Yorkshire Observer.
IAN HARDY, SENIOR MIDSHIPMAN
“Of those who are now writing stories of the sea, Commander Currey holds perhaps the leading position. He has a gift of narrative, a keen sense of humour, and above all he writes from a full stock of knowledge.”—Saturday Review.“It is no exaggeration to say that Commander Currey bears worthily the mantle of Kingston and Captain Marryat.”—Manchester Courier.“The Ian Hardy Series is just splendid for boys to read, and the best of it is that each book is complete in itself. But not many boys will read one of the series without being keenly desirous of reading all the others.”—Sheffield Telegraph.
“Of those who are now writing stories of the sea, Commander Currey holds perhaps the leading position. He has a gift of narrative, a keen sense of humour, and above all he writes from a full stock of knowledge.”—Saturday Review.
“It is no exaggeration to say that Commander Currey bears worthily the mantle of Kingston and Captain Marryat.”—Manchester Courier.
“The Ian Hardy Series is just splendid for boys to read, and the best of it is that each book is complete in itself. But not many boys will read one of the series without being keenly desirous of reading all the others.”—Sheffield Telegraph.
IAN HARDY FIGHTING THE MOORS
“By writing this series the author is doing national service, for he writes of the Navy and the sea with knowledge and sound sense. . . . What a welcome addition the whole series would make to a boy’s library.”—Daily Graphic.“The right romantic stuff, full of fighting and hairbreadth escapes. . . . Commander Currey has the secret of making the men and ships seem actual.”—Times.“By this time Ian Hardy has become a real friend and we consider him all a hero should be.”Outlook.
“By writing this series the author is doing national service, for he writes of the Navy and the sea with knowledge and sound sense. . . . What a welcome addition the whole series would make to a boy’s library.”—Daily Graphic.
“The right romantic stuff, full of fighting and hairbreadth escapes. . . . Commander Currey has the secret of making the men and ships seem actual.”—Times.
“By this time Ian Hardy has become a real friend and we consider him all a hero should be.”
Outlook.
SEELEY, SERVICE & CO. LIMITED
TRANSCRIBER NOTES
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.Book title and author's name has been added to the original cover.
Misspelled words and printer errors have been corrected. Where multiple spellings occur, majority use has been employed.
Punctuation has been maintained except where obvious printer errors occur.
Book title and author's name has been added to the original cover.