Percy F. Westerman

“ At ten o'clock a large steamer, going at high speed and blaring incessantly with her siren, passed within fifty yards of the little Spindrift; for a temporary lift in the fog showed her port light like a gigantic blur of fire. So great was the steamer's speed, that her bow wave broke completely over the yacht's weather side, causing her to roll so furiously that Hayes afterwards said it was as if the Spindrift was standing on her head.
"Not much use blowing our fog-horn," remarked Findlay. "They didn't take the slightest bit of notice."
"There's one good thing: they missed us," said Desmond. ”

“ Faintly, and far ahead, came the hoarse bray of a steamer's syren. Ashore a dog was barking dismally—the noise too close to be appreciated by the crew of the fog-bound yacht; while in the flat calm, the roar of the surf upon the iron-bound coast was an audible reminder of the fate a small craft might expect should she be carried upon that dangerous shore.
It was the Scoutmaster's plan to hold on the present course until the yacht was well clear of the coast; then to shape a course up-Channel until the fog lifted. ”

“ The crew began to make ready with ropes and fenders, while Woodleigh kept a sharp look out for a suitable berth in the sheltered but considerably crowded harbour known as Sutton Pool.
"Unity, ahoy!" he hailed, addressing a short, thick-set fisherman in a blue jersey, tanned trousers, and sea-boots, and wearing a billy-cock hat that looked rather out of keeping with his nautical rig. "Can we berth alongside you? Are you putting out to-night?"
"Make fast alongside o' we," replied the skipper of the fishing-smack Unity. "You'm welcome, sure." ”

“ 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 the Ocean 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 the Spindrift, which is a little more than half the size of the Ocean 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. ”

“ Away to their right the Sea Scouts could discern the creek winding towards the open waters of Spithead, while in the distance the flat coast of Hampshire cut the skyline.
"Where's the guardship, sir?" asked Hayes.
"There she is, unless I'm greatly mistaken," replied the Scoutmaster, pointing to a long, low, black hull with a white superstructure.
"She's not very big," remarked Ted Coles, the greenhorn, dubiously. "And the creek's little larger than a ditch."
"Don't look a gift-horse in the mouth," said Desmond. "Wait till we're aboard. Things look a bit deceptive from a height. ”

“ Had the Spanker been running, it might have been rather difficult; close hauled the ketch almost sailed herself, save for an occasional touch of the helm as she tended to come up into the wind.
"That youngster knows what he's about," remarked Truscott in a low voice. "He won't get her in irons. I'll go aloft and clear the blessed sail."
Truscott was a burly fellow. He went aloft, holding on to the staysail halliards and getting a foothold on the mast-hoops. Gaining the cross-trees, he balanced himself on the slender galvanized-iron spreader and stretched for the jammed rope. ”

“ For some minutes the lads remained silent, watching the falling tide. Fortunately there was not a breath of wind and the sea was calm, save for the ripples as the ebb poured through the narrow entrance to the harbour.
"What beats me," remarked Desmond, knitting his brows, "is how we got here. I suppose the anchor tripped. It's a wonder we didn't foul any of the other yachts and vessels in the harbour."
"I suppose the chain didn't part?" suggested Jock. "We can see," replied the Patrol Leader. "Jump into the dinghy. There's still enough water for her." ”

“ The next instant four distinct splashes indicated that the crew of the Spindrift were taking a personal interest in the waters of Padstow Harbour. A vigorous swim, followed by a brisk rub-down, gave the lads a most healthy appetite.
"When do we make a start, sir?" asked Desmond, during breakfast.
"As soon as we've stowed everything away," was the reply. "We've a fairly long run to-day."
"Round Land's End, sir?" asked Hayes.
"Hardly," rejoined Mr. Graham. "We'll have to be satisfied if we make St. Ives before night. ”

“ The ebb-tide was weak, but the wind came only in fitful puffs over the tree-tops.
"We'll get it in a minute," declared the Patrol Leader, pointing to the ruffled water ahead that showed up distinctly in the reflected gleam of the guardship's riding-light.
"That usually happens," observed Mr. Graham. "Often and often a yacht approaches her moorings in a gentle little breeze, then just as she's on, down comes a puff that shoots her past the buoy like a young racehorse.... Findlay!"
"Ay, ay, sir," replied Jock from the cabin.
"How is Mr. Collinson?" ”

“ They went about it with the minimum of noise. Since the yacht was moored alongside a wall, there were merely ropes to be cast off and headsails hoisted. Getting up the anchor to the accompaniment of the rattling of a winch and the clanking of chain cable did not figure in the operation. Almost as silently as a wraith the ketch glided through the lock, and, with the wind well on the port quarter, stood steadily seaward.
Truscott was at the helm, while his companion, after descending into the cabin and lowering the centre-board, proceeded to set first mizzen and then mainsail. ”

“ Did he give you any trouble, sir?"
"None whatever, Constable."
"That's strange, sir."
"When a fellow's sea-sick there's the bottom knocked out of the universe as far as he's concerned," remarked the Scoutmaster drily.
The second constable had meanwhile sauntered for'ard, keeping the still unresisting but now restless Gregory between him and the bows of the Olivette. At a sign from his companion the policeman laid his hand on the wanted lad's shoulder.
"Come on, Greening," he exclaimed. "This is the end of your little stunt. Come quietly now, or there'll be more trouble." ”

“ We may be in the same plight when we bring the Spindrift across West Bay."
Half an hour later the yawl was hull down, her idle canvas showing faintly against the blue sky.
"I say," suddenly exclaimed Jock Findlay. "That's a long way from shore for a small boat, isn't it?"
He pointed to a rowing boat about half a mile on the Olivette's port bow.
"It's a dinghy with a man in her," reported Woodleigh. "He's not rowing. He may be fishing, but I hardly think so. Shall we run alongside, sir?"
"Yes, do," replied Mr. Armitage. "If he's all right there's no harm done. ”

“ Telling Desmond to come down, the Scoutmaster went aloft. Desmond was right. Through the powerful binoculars, the white lighthouse buildings on Start Point and the signal station at Prawle Point were unmistakably clear.
"That settles it," decided Mr. Graham. "We'll make for Dartmouth."
"Dartmouth, sir!" exclaimed Desmond. "I thought we were going to pick up Bedford and Coles at Plymouth?"
"Out of the question," rejoined the Scoutmaster. "We can't beat to wind'ard all that way and retrace our course. We'll wire them to join us at Dartmouth." ”

“ The yacht was pumped dry, although she did not appear to have more water in the bilges than usual. Then the kedge, with thirty fathoms of grass line, was dropped in deep water.
The loud bray of a syren, echoing along the wooded hills on the Kingswear side of the harbour, warned the Sea Scouts that what they didn't want to happen was taking place. Already the bows of a large collier were visible as she rounded the precipitous bluff of St. Petrox.
"Driving for all she's worth," exclaimed Desmond. "Look at her bow-wave. Do you think she'll slow down for us, sir?" ”

“ A large yawl bound west was lying becalmed, her white sails shaking from the yards as she wallowed in the swell. Her crew were lying unconcernedly on the deck and hardly noticed the Olivette; but her owner, seated in a deck-chair aft, raised his glasses and kept the Sea Scouts under observation.
"Bet he's a bit sick that he hasn't a motor," remarked Hayes.
"Don't crow," exclaimed Desmond. "This isn't our boat. ”

“ To everyone's delight the Spindrift was still in the same position as when they last saw her, but the water was now within a foot of her load-line.
"It's quite safe to get aboard," said Mr. Graham. "Directly she feels lively we can ease off the throat-halliards, recover our kedge and lay it out in the stream. Let's hope there's no steamer coming in or out, or her wash will give the yacht a nasty hammering on the rocks."
All hands set to work with a will. ”

“ 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." ”

“ By the time they returned with their well-laden trek-cart the tide had commenced to flow, and the water was already lapping the keel of the dinghy.
Ten minutes later the little craft was pushed off through the soft mud and taken alongside the bridge. The stores and baggage were passed aboard, the trek-cart put into a shed at the mill, and the Sea Scouts set off for their temporary floating home.
"She's a whopping craft, after all!" exclaimed Ted Coles, as the dinghy drew near the guardship. ”

“ We've been helped out of difficulties before to-day, and much of the zest of life is derived from helping others."
"I hope we may never have to do you a good turn of this sort, Armitage," said Mr. Graham, "but, if we do, you will know that it will be a pleasure for us to do so. One never knows."
"That's a fact," declared Mr. Armitage sententiously. "No doubt we'll come across you again, especially as you're keeping the Spindrift in commission on the Solent."
At two o'clock the Spindrift got under way, amidst an exchange of hearty cheers between the two troops. ”

“ It has always been raining pretty heavily."
Two hours later the Olivette rounded the peaked, isolated rock, known as the Mewstone, and the whole of Plymouth Sound with its magnificent breakwater came into view. In spite of the fact that it was raining heavily, all the Sea Scouts not actually on duty in the wheelhouse and engine-room kept on deck to enjoy the view, for enjoyable it was even in the now steady downpour. Gregory too was up for'ard gazing, rather apprehensively it seemed, at the Hoe and Smeaton's Tower.
"I feel sorry for that chap," confided Jock Findlay to his chum Desmond. ”

“ This coast isn't like the Essex shore. There aren't harbours every few miles. Keep her on Carnbeak, Desmond. That's the point right ahead—but I suppose you know that already."
"Do I not, sir!" said the Patrol Leader with a laugh. "I thought yesterday that we'd never pass it. The tides do run hot on this coast."
It was a pleasant, almost uneventful sail. Mr. Graham exercised the crew, getting them to go-about, gybe, heave-to, and shoot the yacht up into the wind in order to pick up the lifebuoy, which he threw overboard without warning—to practice "man overboard!" evolutions. ”

“ Even the verdant hills of the Isle of Wight looked grey where they were faintly visible through the light mist.
"It's going to be a scorching hot day," declared Woodleigh.
"Fine weather," added Flemming. "The glass is high and steady."
"I hope it will be rough," said Hayes.
"You'll be sorry for yourself if it is," said Woodleigh. "Take my tip and be thankful it is fine. Rough weather is all very fine if you've a sound boat and a sheltered harbour close under your lee. The fellow who puts to sea because it looks like being rough is simply asking for trouble. ”

“ He knew that Desmond's plan was a sound one. It was a hazardous task for a youth practically single-handed to sail the Spanker almost dead to wind'ard for a matter of fifty or sixty miles of strange waters, when Bude lay an easy distance dead to lee'ard.
"Carry on," he replied. "Can you get her about? Don't gybe her."
Desmond had no intention of gybing. Casting loose the tiller, and trimming the headsail sheets to lee'ard, he soon got way on the vessel. Then, putting her helm down, he "went about" and steered for the now invisible Cornish coast. ”