Contents

CHAPTER I

The Scoutmaster's Plan

"What's the state of the treasury, Peter?" inquired Scoutmaster Armitage.

"Sixteen pounds, sixteen shillings, and sixpence, sir," replied Patrol-leader Peter Stratton of the 1st Milford Sea Scouts. "That includes the profits from our latest concert."

"Hardly enough to buy a boat in these days of dear wages and materials," commented the Scoutmaster. "I'm very much afraid that our plans for acquiring a little cruiser will have to be deferred to a more favourable season—next year, perhaps."

"After all, sir," said Dick Roche, "we can rub along with our present boat. She's not much to look at, but we get quite a good deal of fun out of her."

The Milford Sea Scouts had been in existence only since the war. Under the scoutmastership of Mr. Armitage—late lieutenant R.N.V.R.—eight promising and undoubtedly keen youths were being grounded in the principles of seamanship and coastal navigation. The troop laboured under great disadvantages, but, as Dick Roche the optimist remarked, overcoming difficulties is often the best part of the game.

For one thing, Milford, although on the sea, possesses what is known as an open beach, and is unsuited for boating. For another, the lads had great difficulty in obtaining a boat of any description, owing to lack of funds and the scarcity of craft of all sorts. But within a few months of the founding of the troop the Sea Scouts raised the wind sufficiently to become the proud owners of an ex-naval gig, which by the aid of paint and varnish was made to look quite smart and shipshape.

The beach being unsuitable, they kept their boat at Keyhaven, a small creek a mile or so from Milford, which had the advantage of opening into the comparatively sheltered waters of the Solent.

Here they learnt to respect the furious tides that surge through Hurst Channel, to avoid the mudbanks that fringe the Hampshire shore, and to navigate their somewhat unhandy craft under sail into the intricate creeks and harbours of the Isle of Wight between Ryde and the old-world town of Yarmouth.

Their varied experiences only whetted their appetite for bigger things afloat, and the Scouts' ambition was centred upon the acquisition of a real yacht with cabin accommodation, so that they would be able to make extended cruises during the holidays.

Unfortunately, summer found them still short of their cherished goal. Old yachts, that in pre-war days might have been picked up for a few pounds, increased in value by leaps and bounds; and even the more sanguine of the troop had to admit that for the present it looked as if they would have to be content with their gig.

"Getting up entertainments seems a toshy way of raising funds," remarked Peter Stratton. "We give rotten shows. We can't act for nuts. People buy tickets because they are good-natured. They must know what they are in for when they hear I'm going to recite, or that Flemming and Woodleigh are billed to render a duet."

"Quite," agreed Dick Roche. "Pity we can't do something seamanlike. A bit of salvage, for instance."

He looked wistfully across the open sea, picturing in his mind's eye a vessel in distress requiring immediate assistance from the Milford Sea Scouts. Roche was of Cornish descent. His ancestors were probably wreckers and smugglers, and that possibly accounted for his yearning for a salvage job.

"Not much chance of that," said Reggie Warkworth. "The Totland Bay lifeboatmen are always ready for that sort of work, and there are always pilots knocking around in the Needles Channel."

"Couldn't we all sign on for a voyage in a coaster these holidays, sir?" inquired Alan Hepburn. "We'd improve our seamanship, and get a fairly tidy sum towards our new boat. Much better than knocking about here."

"Quite a sound suggestion of yours, Alan," said the Scoutmaster. "But it's open to a grave objection. For one thing, seven or eight youngsters are rather a tall order for one coasting vessel."

"Pity we couldn't get an M.-L." suggested Peter. "Like the one you had command of, sir."

Mr. Armitage did not reply. He had strong views on that subject. It was a matter of intense regret to him that the sturdy little fleet of miniature warships had not been put to better use by the Admiralty instead of being sold abroad. In a few isolated instances craft of this type were given by the Admiralty to cadet organizations, but such instances were few and far between. Already the lessons learnt by the Great War were being forgotten. One was the need of expert coastal navigators—men who could confidently take a small craft where others with deep-sea experience would fail hopelessly. From his own knowledge Mr. Armitage knew this. He had seen officers, trained in the Royal Navy and the big shipping companies, literally at sea when called upon to navigate a light-draughted craft amongst the shallows of the Thames Estuary, or the sand-banks off the Belgian coast; while yachtsmen and masters of small coasting vessels, who, during the Great War, had worn His Majesty's uniform as members of the once derided "Harry Tate's Navy" could and did perform deeds of daring in shallow waters under conditions that would have completely "floored" their deep-sea colleagues.

Armitage had hoped to be able to purchase the M.-L. he once commanded, and use her profitably and pleasurably for the instruction of his troop of Sea Scouts. He made a fair offer for her, but his advances were cold-shouldered by an unsympathetic and incompetent Small Craft Disposal Board. He had the mortification of seeing his former command rot at her moorings in an out-of-the-way creek, until 'longshore sharks "pinched" most of her fittings, and finally she was sold abroad.

"Are you sure the coaster stunt couldn't be worked, sir?" asked Alan Hepburn, returning to the charge.

"'Fraid not," replied Mr. Armitage. "What we might do is to offer to take a craft from one port to another. You see there are plenty of yachts changing hands. Their new owners might want them taken to other ports, and at the present time crews are both expensive and difficult to obtain. We could offer to navigate a small craft anywhere, say, between the Humber and Falmouth. It would give us the benefit of a fairly long coastal voyage, and as a troop our funds would benefit. We might even raise enough to buy a ten-ton cutter or yawl."

"How do we go about it?" asked Peter Stratton.

"Advertise," replied the Scoutmaster briefly. Then, after a pause, he added: "Of course, your parents' consent would have to be obtained for a job of this description. But with ordinary caution there should be little risk. A careful study of the barometer, and the knowledge that all around the coast there are harbours within a few miles of each other, ought practically to eliminate all danger. I've no use for a man who puts to sea before a rising gale, but I've the keenest admiration for the one who, 'caught out' in the open, knows how to bring his craft safely back to port. Courage and foolhardiness are as remote as the poles."

"What sort of craft do you think we might have to take, sir?" asked Woodleigh.

"Any sort, providing it is seaworthy," replied the Scoutmaster.

"I don't think my people would object," said Flemming.

"Nor mine," added Reggie Warkworth. "If they knew that you were with us," he added loyally.

Mr. Armitage smiled.

"I'm not infallible," he protested, "and quite liable to commit errors of judgment, but I'm pretty well used to this sort of thing. Well, I propose we draft an advertisement and get it inserted in the Yachting Press." The Scouts waited in expectancy while their Scoutmaster scribbled on the back of an envelope.

"How will this do?" he inquired, "'Scoutmaster (Lieutenant, R.N.V.R.) and Troop of Sea Scouts are open to navigate yachts and small craft to and from British ports, South and East Coast preferred. Moderate and inclusive terms. Reply Box so-and-so.'"

"That ought to work all right, sir," said Dick Roche. "We ought to get in quite a lot of decent sailing during the holidays."

"There's not much time to be lost, then," added Woodleigh. "We're well into July already."

"Very well, then," concluded Mr. Armitage briskly. "I'll get this advertisement inserted. Now, suppose we turn from dreams of anticipation to the stern necessities of the present. The boat-house wants setting straight, and I see that the recent gales have loosened some of the weather-board. All hands to work."

The conclave had assembled in a wooden hut built by the Sea Scouts entirely by themselves. It was a substantial wooden structure, 14 feet by 10, resting on a solid concrete foundation on a ledge half-way up the cliff. It had been built in sections on Mr. Armitage's lawn, and the sections fastened together solely by twenty-four coach-screws. The hut had been built during the Easter holidays, and, although its construction took seventeen days of hard work, the task of conveying it to the cliff and erecting it complete occupied the short space of six hours.

It was plainly and simply furnished. Wooden lockers served a double purpose, as seats and receptacles for storing boat's gear. A folding table, large enough to take a full-sized Admiralty chart, was an object of considerable ingenuity and good workmanship. On the walls were framed and varnished charts of "The Solent", "The Approaches to Spithead", and "Owers to Christchurch", in addition to a bookcase filled with story-books and textbooks dealing with the sea.

In the corner stood a signal-locker containing the flags of the International Code, the flags, like the furniture, being the handiwork of the Sea Scouts. On the locker stood an azimuth compass; while on a pair of brackets by the side of the door was a powerful telescope.

In front of the hut was a flagstaff and a windlass. The latter, purchased for a mere song, came from the wreck of a barge, and served the useful purpose of hauling the Sea Scouts' gig up the steeply-shelving pebble beach, when the state of the sea permitted its being brought round from Keyhaven.

The hut and its contents alone were sufficient to prove that the Milford Sea Scouts were handy and industrious youngsters; but that was not enough to satisfy Mr. Armitage's ambitions. He wanted them to be Sea Scouts in deed as well as in name, skilled in the art of coastal navigation and smart in elementary seamanship, so that in time to come they would be worthy members of the Empire whose existence depends upon the sea.

There were difficulties in his way. He was not a wealthy man, although fairly well off. He had a considerable amount of spare time, which he decided he could put to a good purpose by raising and training a troop of Sea Scouts. The locality was unsuitable, the facilities for getting afloat few. He realized that, like a schoolmaster, he was bound to lose his boys almost as soon as they were thoroughly trained. Others would take their places, and the moulding process would continue until the time came when he, too, would have to "hand over" to a successor.

His own experience had taught him that anyone who knew how to handle a small sailing dinghy properly can sail a yacht, but it did not necessarily follow that a person who could manage a large vessel could sail a dinghy. Carrying the process still further, it was fairly safe to assume that a single-handed yachtsman could be of material assistance if he found himself on board a big craft; hence the advantage of fostering the art of boat-sailing—a pastime of which the joys never pale—is incalculable both in peace and war.

A week elapsed, after the appearance of Mr. Armitage's advertisement, and nothing resulted. The Sea Scouts, scorning the adage "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick", kept a stiff upper lip and went about their tasks unconcernedly, "carrying on" with seamanship and navigation, and taking advantage of every opportunity of getting afloat in their gig. But, at the same time, the fact was apparent that only a month of the holidays remained.

One morning—it was the last Friday in July—the Sea Scouts were preparing to launch their boat, when Mr. Armitage appeared, looking, as Dick Roche afterwards observed, like a dog with two tails.

"Heard anything, sir?" inquired the Patrol-leader.

"It never rains but it pours," replied the Scoutmaster. "We've had two trips offered us."

"Cheerio!" ejaculated Hepburn. "Let's have it, sir."

CHAPTER II

Two Offers

"Palaver!" exclaimed Mr. Armitage. "We'll adjourn to the boat-house and go into the matter. Now, then. The first offer is by telegram. Here it is: 'Can you undertake navigation of 50-foot motor-boat from Oxford to Teddington, starting Monday next? Terms fifteen pounds and travelling expenses. Confirming by letter. Murgatroyd.'"

"A trip down the Thames—how jolly!" remarked Reggie Warkworth.

"But it's not a sea-voyage," objected Eric Flemming. "We're Sea Scouts, not canal bargees."

"Fifteen pounds is fifteen pounds," observed Alan Hepburn sententiously. "And we'd be afloat, even if it's only on the Thames."

"What's the other offer, sir?" asked the matter-of-fact Peter Stratton.

In reply Mr. Armitage drew an envelope from his pocket, extracted its contents, and read:

"Now, boys," said the Scoutmaster, "discuss, as Shakespeare puts it."

He charged and lit his pipe, and listened.

Mr. Armitage was quite content to let his Sea Scouts do the debating, only volunteering a statement when it was asked for, until the time came for him to arrive at a decision upon the matter in hand. It gave the boys confidence in themselves, and, although he was a boy at heart himself, he recognized the advantages of allowing the lads to build their own plans.

"The Yarmouth stunt's the thing!" decided Peter.

"M'yes," remarked Woodleigh dubiously. Never having sailed beyond the shelter of the Isle of Wight, the suddenness of the proposition rather took him aback. "About three hundred miles, isn't it?"

Reference was made to an atlas, in default of a chart covering the "ground".

"Plenty of harbours," reported the Patrol-leader.

"It looks a terrific long way to the North Foreland," observed the cautious Woodleigh, "and the whole of the Thames Estuary seems bunged up with sand-banks."

"That's part of the fun," added Reggie Warkworth. "Not bumping on them, of course, but dodging between them. It's a bit tricky, I admit, but once we're in the English Channel it's as easy as winking."

"How long will it take?" inquired Roche. "The longer the better, as far as I am concerned."

"We ought to make Harwich in one day, Ramsgate the next, then Newhaven and Poole the fifth day," said Stratton, roughly measuring off the distances. "Allowing delays for bad weather, we ought to do it comfortably in the time."

"And the Thames trip?" asked Alan. "Steamers do that in a couple of days, I believe."

"Ever been on the Thames, anyone?" asked the Patrol-leader.

"I have," replied Flemming. "I was only a kid at the time. I went from Charing Cross Pier to Hampton Court. It was jolly fine, I remember."

Alan Hepburn was still pondering over the matter of the fifteen pounds.

"I suppose," he said in a rather slow drawl, "I suppose we couldn't tackle both jobs?"

"What do you mean?" asked Peter Stratton. "Half of us take on the Oxford trip, and the rest sail the Rosalie round?"

"No," replied Alan. "Not exactly. We could take the motor-boat down to Teddington, and then go on to Yarmouth. Two birds with one stone, so to speak. What do you say, sir?"

Mr. Armitage, thus appealed to, "put his spoke in".

"A good suggestion, Hepburn. I had that idea in my mind directly I received Mr. Trelawney's letter. Of course, if we had to choose, bringing round the Rosalie would be preferable. At the same time, although taking a motor-boat—and a pretty big one at that, I should imagine—does not involve any navigation in the strict sense of the word, there would be opportunities for improving our seamanship. I've never taken a craft up or down the Thames, and some of the locks might cause a little excitement, but I see no reason why we shouldn't take on the job."

Armitage knew by this time what his capabilities were in the handling of various craft. During his service career he had taken M.-L.'s in and out of narrow docks, navigated "drifters", towed lighters, been in command of swift motor-boats, and slow and ungainly tugs. To him the task of navigating Mr. Murgatroyd's 50-foot motor-boat was mere child's play, since there was little possibility of coming to grief on the bosom of Old Father Thames.

"Right-o," decided the Scoutmaster. "Warkworth, take these two telegrams to the post office. We'll draft confirmatory letters and get them away by the midday mail."

Accordingly the two offers were accepted, although in his letter to Mr. Murgatroyd the Scoutmaster pointed out that the nature of the task was hardly what he was accustomed to, but there was no apparent reason why the boat should not be safely handed over at Teddington.

The Sea Scouts were in high feather. Every member of the troop except two had succeeded by dint of more or less persuasion in obtaining his parents' consent to adventure himself on the High Seas.

The journey to Oxford was fixed for Saturday, as the following Monday was Bank Holiday, and railway travelling would certainly be a matter of considerable difficulty. It would, Mr. Armitage decided, give the boys a chance to have a good look round the venerable University city.

The eventful morning dawned fair and bright, with every prospect of a prolonged spell of fine weather. At seven the Sea Scouts assembled at their club hut, each with his kit-bag, containing blankets, change of clothing, and toilet requisites, and a haversack with two days' rations. In addition, Stratton carried a First Aid outfit; Roche, as troop photographer, was equipped with a film camera; while the Scoutmaster arrived with his navigating instruments and a bundle of Admiralty and "blue-backed" charts.

"I've just received a letter from Mr. Murgatroyd," reported Mr. Armitage. "He intends to make the trip with us. This is what he says:

"I wish he weren't coming," said Flemming bluntly. "It's rotten having a stranger on board."

"He'll be all right, I feel certain," rejoined Patrol-leader Stratton. "By the way he writes he evidently means everybody to have a good time. Besides, it's his boat, and he has a perfect right to be on board."

"Plenty of time to discuss our employer when you see him," observed Patrol-leader Stratton briskly. "Come along; get on with it. There's a lot to be done before we go and precious little time to do it in. Roche, see that all the gear is taken out of the boat. You others carry on and make the hut shipshape. Hepburn, I want you to make sure that the windows are fastened. We don't want our hut pillaged while we are away."

Peter Stratton was a capable patrol-leader. He knew how to handle the troop firmly and judiciously. When he gave an order he invariably saw that it was carried out properly. Mr. Armitage knew the lad's abilities and was content to let a lot of responsibility fall on Stratton's shoulders; while, on the other hand, Peter never hesitated when in doubt to ask the advice of his Scoutmaster.

"Here it comes, sir!" exclaimed Warkworth, who, having completed his allotted task, had gone to the top of the cliff to watch for the motor-bus that was to take the Milford Sea Scouts and their baggage to the railway station.

The door of the hut was closed and locked, the Sea Scouts fell in, each lad shouldering his kit-bag.

"Quick march," came the crisp order, and the patrol made its way up the cliff path on the first stage of its adventures on the river and on the sea.

CHAPTER III

The "Olivette"

It was quite a jolly journey, frequent stoppages at stations and changes notwithstanding. Few of the boys had been off the main London line before, and the run between Basingstoke and Oxford was quite new to them. Mr. Armitage pointed out the chief objects of interest, while the Sea Scouts plied him with innumerable questions, some of which were beyond him. They worked out the speed of the train by observing how long it took to cover the distance between two telegraph posts, since these are placed eighty-eight yards, or one twentieth of a mile apart.

"What river is that, sir?" asked Hepburn.

"It isn't a river," declared Woodleigh. "It's a canal. Look, there's a tow-path and a lock."

"Strictly speaking, it's both," said Mr. Armitage. "It's a canalized river, and it happens to be the Thames."

"The Thames!" exclaimed Roche. "Why, it's quite narrow. If we wanted to turn the boat round we wouldn't have room."

"I think so," corrected the Scoutmaster. "Viewed from a height it looks narrower than it actually is. We'll cross it several times before we get to Oxford."

"I wonder what sort of motor the boat has," remarked Roche.

"Mr. Murgatroyd gave no details," replied the Scoutmaster. "It's probably a well-known one. I don't think it ought to be beyond you."

Already the Sea Scouts had a good theoretical and practical knowledge of marine motors; Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh showing quite good promise in that direction. They had the instinctive gift for locating troubles in internal-combustion engines, and not once but many times, during their short cruises on the Solent, they had assisted amateur yachtsmen whose motors had proved refractory.

Upon arriving at Oxford, the party hired a somewhat decrepit horse and cab to take their gear down to the river. The Scouts decided to walk. For one thing, it was a change after being in a railway carriage for the best part of four hours; for another, it enabled them to get a better view of the city.

"We shan't see many of the colleges," observed Mr. Armitage. "They lie, for the most part, in the north-eastern and south-eastern portions of the city. We'll have to visit them later."

"Rather a difference from Milford," declared Hepburn, as the Sea Scouts threaded their way through the crowds in Carfax. "Jolly fine old place, eh, what?"

Just then a tall, bronze-complexioned man of about thirty stopped Mr. Armitage, and extended his left hand true scout fashion.

"Excuse me, sir," he exclaimed, "but Sea Scouts are not often seen here, although I believe they are 'common objects by the seaside'. My name's Jackson, not that that will interest you, but it is the usual thing to give it. I'm Scoutmaster of one of the Oxford troops. I thought, perhaps, that you are on a visit; in which case my fellows could show you round."

"Hardly on a visit," replied Mr. Armitage, and he indicated the nature of the business that brought him and six Sea Scouts to Oxford.

"I rather envy you," said Mr. Jackson. "I know the boat. However, I suppose you want to be getting on."

"We shall be delighted if, to-morrow afternoon, your troop will take us in hand," remarked Mr. Armitage. "We want to make the best of the opportunity and see the sights, and I quite realize that your suggestion offers the best solution to the question of what to and what not to see."

A little later on, as the Sea Scouts were crossing Folly Bridge, they had their first view of the Olivette—that being the name painted on the bows of the 50-footer.

She was lying alongside a floating stage, just below the bridge, and, if the truth be told, the Olivette was not at all the type of boat Mr. Armitage and his troop had expected to find.

Closer acquaintance showed that she was 54 feet in length with a beam of 12 feet. She drew 3 feet 4 inches aft—dimensions that were rather excessive for the upper Thames.

"Why, she's a tug, sir!" exclaimed Stratton, pointing to a massive beam at the after end of the coach-roof, in the centre of which was a strong, swivelled towing-hook.

"Apparently," agreed the Scoutmaster. "At any rate she's strongly built, and has a terrifically big rubbing strake. She'll stand some knocking about."

"She's more like a sea-going boat," remarked Roche. "She's different from all the other steamers and motor-launches about here."

"I'd like to take her to sea," observed Mr. Armitage. "Let's get on board, and see what she's like down below."

Later on the Scoutmaster learnt that the Olivette was a Government-owned motor-tug, built at Oxford, but never used, owing to the Armistice. Becoming "surplus to requirements ", she was sold to Mr. Murgatroyd, who christened her Olivette. Previously she had been designated by a number.

"Going below" meant descending a short iron ladder into a spacious cockpit, with seats and lockers under the waterways on either side. Opening aft out of the cockpit were three doors. The centre one led to a small, two-berthed cabin, with folding iron cots over lockered seats. The one great drawback was the lack of sufficient headroom—even Hepburn, the smallest of the troop, having to duck his head.

On the starboard side of the entrance to the after cabin was a neat and compact galley, equipped with an atmospheric stove and an array of pots, pans, and crocks. On the port side was a lavatory.

For'ard of the cockpit, and gained by the simple method of stooping under the towing-beam, was the engine-room, with a coach-built roof over.

"Some engine!" declared Roche enthusiastically. "Paraffin, 60—80 horse-power too."

He opened the four compression taps, and proceeded to try to turn the starting-handle.

"My word!" he ejaculated. "She is stiff. Hasn't been used for months."

"You'll have to be careful to keep clear of that fly-wheel," cautioned Mr. Armitage. "It's awfully in the way, and should anyone get mixed up with it there'll be a fatal or very serious accident. Wonder they didn't put a guard-rail to it."

A couple of feet in front of the engine was a raised platform forming the floor of a "sunk" wheel-house. The helmsman would thus be able to see across the fore-deck, although the bows of the vessel interrupted a direct view of the surface of the water within a distance of 50 feet, which was, Mr. Armitage pointed out, a decided disadvantage when entering a lock.

"However," he added optimistically, "we'll soon get used to that."

"She is a sea-going craft after all, sir!" declared Roche triumphantly. "I thought she was."

"How do you know?" inquired Woodleigh sceptically.

"Because she has a compass. She wouldn't want one if she was designed for the Thames, would she?" replied Roche.

One by one Scoutmaster and Sea Scouts crawled through a very small doorway in the wheel-house bulkhead and gained the fo'c'sle, to which access was also obtainable by means of a fore-hatch.

"Quite spacious," commented Mr. Armitage, "and, what is equally important, dry. I see that there are four cots, so two of you will have to sleep on the side lockers in the cockpit. After all, a plank bed isn't so bad when you once get used to it. If it rains, then the fellow on the leeward berth will have to sleep in the after cabin, unless the owner doesn't sleep ashore, as I hope he will. And, by the by, it's as well that we didn't carry out Mr. Murgatroyd's suggestion and bring a tow-rope. There are some in that locker, I see. Get them out, Stratton. We're bound to want them, and we can see what we have got."

Examination showed that there were 50 fathoms of 4-inch coir rope and two 25 fathoms of 2-inch Manila.

"Yes, we've saved ourselves the fag of bringing a coil of rope with us," continued the Scoutmaster. "And there's an anchor and chain and a powerful little winch, so we ought to be all right on that score. Now stow away your gear, and we'll have something to eat. After that, Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh, can give the engine a run. Warkworth and Hepburn, you'll undertake the catering. Remember, to-morrow's Sunday and Monday's Bank Holiday, so be prepared, and don't land us in the cart."