The Eve of the Jamboree
“I can’t see any sign of the _Merlin_,” declared Brandon, after scanning
the numerous craft at anchor. Already, during the last half-hour new
arrivals had taken up their berths, so that the _Kestrel_ was by no
means on the fringe of the fleet.
“That’s strange,” rejoined Peter. “I wonder where she is?”
“I’ll make enquiries,” said Mr. Grant, overhearing the conversation. “I
must go aboard the Chief Sea Scout’s yacht to report our arrival and
will find out whether the _Merlin_ has arrived. Bring the dinghy
alongside, please, Brandon.”
The three Wootton Sea Scouts had taken their departure and were
alongside their parent craft when their arrival was greeted with
acclamation by their chums.
Spic-and-span in their best jerseys, Brandon and Craddock manned the
dinghy and rowed their Scoutmaster to the flagship, which was surrounded
by a swarm of small boats and invaded by dozens of Scoutmasters
attending a conference on the programme for the next ten days.
Having put Mr. Grant on board, Brandon and his chum “laid off,” keeping
their dinghy clear of the yacht’s accommodation ladder. Then they got
busy, “easing their jaw tackle,” to use a nautical expression, for the
crews of the various dinghies were holding an informal jamboree on their
own account and exchanging reminiscences.
There could be little doubt that the great gathering of Sea Scouts would
turn out to be a huge success. Not only were the neighbouring Troops
well represented; some came from Great Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Grimsby, and
Hull, and even from far-off Aberdeen. From the West Coast, the Clyde was
well represented, as well as Troops from the Mersey, Pembroke, Swansea,
Cardiff, and Bristol. All these Troops were fortunate in possessing
fairly large and seaworthy craft, many of them “drifters” with auxiliary
motors.
Other Sea Scouts living in inland districts—it may sound strange to
have to relate, but most efficient Troops have been formed at places on
various rivers—had not been deterred from appearing at the Jamboree.
Some of them—those from Nottingham, for example—had made the voyage by
canal as far as Godalming, completing the journey by having their
whalers placed on rail. Others, unable to make use of the inland
waterways, had come the whole way by rail; while one enterprising Troop
from Worcester had demonstrated how grit and ingenuity could surmount
almost any obstacle.
Their craft was a 27-foot ex-naval whaler and was too long to be
accommodated on an ordinary railway goods truck. Besides, they were not
well off and could ill afford the expense. But they were determined to
be present at the Jamboree, and they were. They had constructed a
special carriage mounted on a pair of heavy motor-lorry wheels. This
they attached to the Scoutmaster’s car, placing the whaler on the
“cradle.” Some of the crew travelled in the boat; others by cycle, since
the lumbering vehicle could not go more than eight or ten miles an hour.
At night they slept in the boat, which was covered with a waterproof
awning.
Others, possessing smaller boats, had trekked to the rendezvous; while
in many cases Troops had arrived without craft of any description and
were accommodated in tents.
Not only was Great Britain well represented. There were contingents from
France, Belgium and Holland, and quite a strong Troop of hefty,
flaxen-haired, fair-complexioned Sea Scouts from Denmark, most of whom
spoke English and had already made the acquaintance of British Scouts at
the recent Copenhagen meeting.
The organisation, too, was as perfect as human experience could devise.
One of the chief considerations, an ample supply of good drinking water,
was provided. There was an efficient transport service between the
landing-place and the city of Chichester, from whence provisions and
stores were obtained. Special precautions had been taken to provide a
safe bathing-place under strict supervision; while a proper postal
service had been instituted.
This much and more Brandon and Craddock learnt from their new-found
chums, and apparently there was much forthcoming about which the lads
were as yet metaphorically “at sea.”
In about half an hour, Mr. Grant appeared on deck and was rowed back to
the _Kestrel_.
“The _Merlin_ hasn’t reported, lads,” he announced. “Perhaps she’s had
to put in somewhere. It’s no use expecting her this evening. There’s not
enough water on the Bar until to-morrow morning. Now, Eric, my lad, I
suppose the next thing to be done is to hand you over to your
relations.”
“Surely, sir, there is no immediate hurry,” protested the stowaway. “If
you have no objection, perhaps I might be permitted to remain for part
of the impending entertainment? It occurred to me, sir, that I should
like very much to become a Sea Scout.”
Mr. Grant turned to his crew.
“What shall we say, lads?” he asked.
There was a unanimous response in favour of Eric being allowed to stop
on board. In spite of his old-fashioned ways, the boy had made himself
well liked.
“Very well, then,” agreed the Scoutmaster. “I’ll run into Chichester
to-morrow morning and see your uncle. But I’m afraid we can’t make you a
Sea Scout. You’re not old enough, Eric; but there’s no reason why you
shouldn’t become a Cub, and then when you are old enough you can become
a Scout. Now, lads, who’s for the shore? A good sharp tramp is the
thing. One of you must remain on board. Who’ll volunteer?”
Talbot said he would.
“Good man!” exclaimed Mr. Grant. “Keep a smart look-out for signals from
the Chief Sea Scout’s yacht. That’s about all, I think. By the by, we’ll
have to patch up the dinghy’s gunwale to-morrow. It looks a bit of a
wreck.”
With the exception of the volunteer ship-keeper, all hands went ashore,
leaving the dinghy on the hard. Proceeding between the avenue of tents
where swarms of Sea Scouts were in various stages of “getting all
ship-shape,” they gained the open country—a flat but rather pleasing
bit of Sussex lying between the harbour and the open sea.
“How firm the sand is!” exclaimed Carline when the lads gained the
seashore. “Look! There are fellows riding bicycles on it.”
“And isn’t the tide out?” added Wilson. “When we came in there weren’t
any shoals showing.”
“That’s why we had to choose high-water,” remarked Mr. Grant. “Those
shoals, although consisting of sand, are quite as dangerous as rocks. A
vessel might be pounded to bits in a few minutes if she chanced to get
ashore in heavy weather. There’s hardly any wind this evening—it’s
almost a flat calm—but you can see the rollers breaking on the exposed
edge of the shoals. This harbour happens to be the worst beaconed on the
south coast, and in some respects one of the most dangerous ones. If it
comes on to blow for any length of time, we might be kept here for a
month.”
“How jolly that would be!” exclaimed Wilson.
“I’m afraid you’d feel rather fed-up before the month had passed,”
observed the Scoutmaster. “Any place, however much it appeals to you at
first, becomes positively irksome if you’re kept there against your
inclinations. Well, there’s no sign of the _Merlin_ in the offing. It’s
a pity, because it looks as if she won’t be able to take part in the
opening sailing race to-morrow afternoon for the Silver Cup.”
“Are we racing, sir?” asked Craddock eagerly.
“Rather.”
“Good egg, sir!” exclaimed Peter.
“Time to be on our return journey,” observed Mr. Grant, consulting his
wristlet watch. “We must be on board before sunset.”
His listeners wondered why. They soon found out; for on returning to the
_Kestrel_ they noticed the Sea Scouts on the various craft mustered on
deck. A bugle sounded. Everyone stood at the Alert, while a forest of
burgees and ensigns fluttered to their respective decks. Then in the
gathering gloom innumerable riding-lights were hoisted in position.
It was the eve of the Jamboree.