Produced by R.G.P.M. van Giesen
[Illustration: cover art]
Sea Scouts up-Channel
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
50 Old Bailey, LONDON
17 Stanhope Street, GLASGOW
BLACKIE & SON (INDIA) LIMITED
Warwick House, Fort Street, BOMBAY
BLACKIE & SON (CANADA) LIMITED
1118 Bay Street, TORONTO
[Illustration: "WANT A TOW INTO WEYMOUTH?" _Frontispiece_,
_Page_ 242]
Sea Scouts up-Channel
BY
PERCY F. WESTERMAN
Author of "The Third Officer", "The Salving of the Fusi Yama"
"Sea Scouts All", &c.
_Illustrated by C. M. Padday, R.O.I._
BLACKIE & SON LIMITED
LONDON AND GLASGOW
_Printed in Great Britain by_
_Blackie & Son, Limited, Glasgow_
Contents
CHAP.
I. THE GUARDSHIP
II. SEA SCOUTS TO THE RESCUE
III. AN INVOLUNTARY GUEST
IV. THE GRATITUDE OF MR. COLLINSON
V. A GIFT WORTH HAVING
VI. VISITING SEA SCOUTS
VII. THE START OF THE GREAT ADVENTURE
VIII. DISTURBING INFLUENCES
IX. ADRIFT IN WEST BAY
X. THE FOULED PROPELLER
XI. THE SEMAPHORE MESSAGE
XII. A MISUNDERSTANDING CLEARED UP
XIII. THE TREK
XIV. THE MISSING PATROL LEADER
XV. HOW DESMOND FARED
XVI. THE OUTBOARD MOTOR
XVII. ADVANTAGES AND DISADVANTAGES OF CEMENT
XVIII. GOOD LUCK IN DISGUISE
XIX. THE FOG
XX. CAPTURED
XXI. THE TABLES TURNED
XXII. A NARROW SHAVE
XXIII. THE REBOUND OF THE JOKE
XXIV. REFUSING A TOW
XXV. AND LAST
Illustrations
"WANT A TOW INTO WEYMOUTH?" _Frontispiece_
"ALL CLEAR!" HE ANNOUNCED, EXHAUSTED AND TRIUMPHANT
BOTH MEN TUMBLED ON THE CABIN-TOP
"DROP THAT AND GIVE IN AT ONCE!"
Sea Scouts up-Channel
CHAPTER I
The Guardship
"It's going to be a dirty night," remarked Mr. Graham, Scoutmaster of
the 9th Southend-on-Sea Sea Scouts. "Not very promising for the first
day of our holidays."
"You are right, sir," agreed Desmond, the Patrol Leader. "We are safe
enough here; and, after all, the weather isn't everything. We're
jolly lucky to be afloat."
"Although we've nothing much to go to sea in," added Pat Hayes. "This
part of the coast is very different from Southend, isn't it, sir?"
"I can hardly believe we're miles from home," chimed in Ted Coles,
the tenderfoot or "greenhorn" of the troop. "My word, that shakes
the old boat up!" he exclaimed, as a vicious blast of wind bore down
upon the side of the lofty superstructure of their temporary floating
home.
It was a stroke of good luck, or perhaps good management on the part
of Scoutmaster Graham, that five members of the 9th Southend Sea
Scouts found themselves in the Isle of Wight.
They had that afternoon "taken over" the guardship of the 6th Wootton
Bridge Sea Scouts, the latter having accepted an invitation to take
part in a "jamboree" on the other side of the Channel at a place
called St. Valerie-en-Caux.
Before the Wootton Bridge lads left, their Scoutmaster, Mr. Tweedie,
wrote to Mr. Graham--they had been brother officers in the R.N.V.R.
in that distant period "when there had been a war on"--offering to
lend him the Wootton Bridge Sea Scouts' guardship for the latter end
of July and the greater part of the month of August.
Scoutmaster Graham put the proposition before the lads. They simply
jumped at it. A holiday in the Isle of Wight was far different from
knocking around the Essex and Suffolk creeks in their open whaler--an
old tub that could not be trusted to go anywhere under canvas unless
the wind was abaft the beam--and rowing, although good exercise, is
apt to become a tedious business, especially when it comes to
propelling an unwieldy eighteen-foot ex-Service boat for miles and
miles.
So the offer was gladly accepted. Mr. Graham, Frank Bedford, Pat
Hayes, and Ted Coles had taken train to Portsmouth; Patrol Leader
David Desmond and Second Jock Findlay had done the ninety odd miles
journey on their trusty push-bikes. Taking two days over the
distance, they were awaiting the train-party at Portsmouth Harbour
Station when the Scoutmaster and his three young companions arrived
with their somewhat generous amount of luggage.
It was a matter for mutual regret that some members of the troop were
unable to be present. The fact remained that out of three patrols
only five Sea Scouts were able to accept the Wootton Bridge lads'
invitation, although it was just possible that others might do so
later on.
From Portsmouth the elated Sea Scouts crossed by steamer to Ryde,
their one disappointment being that they were unable to have a
glimpse of Nelson's _Victory_, but the staunch old three-decker was
in dry dock, undergoing a thorough overhauling to repair the ravages
of Father Time.
At Ryde they commenced their four-mile tramp to Wootton Bridge, their
gear being piled upon a trek-cart lent them by some obliging
brother-Scouts.
It was late in the afternoon when the Sea Scouts had their first view
of Wootton Creek, and rather unfortunately it was nearly low water.
From the top of the hill they could see a very narrow stream
meandering between banks of mud. On either side the ground rose
steeply, the left bank being thickly wooded. 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. Come on, you
fellows, it's down hill all the rest of the way."
At length the Sea Scouts and their trek-cart came to a halt outside
an old mill. Here the main road from Ryde to Newport, the "capital"
of the Isle of Wight, crosses the creek by means of a brick bridge.
Close to it is the village that takes its name from the bridge.
"Now to find out Mr. Johnson who has the key of the guardship,"
announced the Scoutmaster; but, before he could take further steps in
the matter, an old, grey-bearded man, wearing a blue reefer suit and
a peaked cap, came out of a cottage near by.
"You'rn the gen'l'man what's a friend to Mr. Tweedie's, I take it,
sir?" he inquired. "Johnson's my name, master mariner for nigh on
thirty-five year. I've got the keys, sir. Here they be, an' a list of
where everything be to. If you'rn wantin' any help, come to Cap'n
Albert Johnson, being me."
"Thanks awfully, Captain," replied the Scoutmaster. "I suppose
there's a dinghy to get off to the guardship with?"
"Ay, ay, there's a nice li'l boat belonging to our Sea Scouts. She'm
alongside yon steps, but there ain't enough water just now, seein' as
'ow the tide's out."
"In that case we must wait," rejoined Mr. Graham. "How long will it
be before the dinghy is afloat?" Captain Johnson gave a glance at the
mud-banks.
"Matter of an hour, mebbe an hour an' a half," he replied. "Say seven
o'clock an' you'll be on the safe side."
"In that case," said Mr. Graham cheerfully, "we may as well get in a
few provisions. Unship that gear, Desmond. The trek-cart will come in
handy for the grub. Hayes, you'd better mount guard over our gear. I
suppose there's fresh water aboard, Captain Johnson?"
"Ay, ay, sir," was the reply, "the lads filled up her tank just afore
they went 'foreign'. There'll be a couple o' hundred gallon in a iron
tank amidships. You'll find the tap in the galley, but don't use the
pump. That be for salt water."
Leaving Hayes to contemplate the narrow trickle of water between the
mud-flats, the Scoutmaster and the rest of the Sea Scouts set off on
their task of buying provisions. 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.
Viewed from without, the guardship turned out to be an old Thames
barge, about eighty feet over all and from fifteen to eighteen feet
beam. The whole of her two holds had been built upon, with a
double-decked structure extending the whole width of the ship except
for about fifteen feet amidships, where the deck-houses came to the
outer edge of the original coamings, thus leaving two sheltered
portions of the deck. Aft, the upper deck terminated twelve feet
for'ard of the lower deck, the roof of the latter boasting of a large
teak skylight. There were several large glass windows, while a short
lowermast and light topmast gave a finishing touch to the Wootton
Bridge Sea Scouts' guardship.
Making the dinghy fast fore and aft to a couple of booms, the Sea
Scouts followed their Scoutmaster on deck, and waited with
ill-concealed eagerness while he unlocked the door leading to the
upper deck.
They found themselves in what was styled the chartroom, a space about
six feet in length and occupying the extreme width of the ship. In it
were a compass, a flashing signal lamp, a signal locker with a
complete set of flags, hand semaphore flags, a couple of telescopes,
and on the bulkhead two large charts of Spithead and the Solent.
On each side were windows commanding a view abeam and ahead, while
right aft another window, long and narrow, gave an uninterrupted view
of the entrance to the creek and the sea beyond.
Leading out of the chartroom was a wide, doorless opening,
communicating with the club-room and two sleeping-cabins on the upper
deck; while a steep brass-treaded ladder with brass hand-rails gave
access below.
On the lower deck were the dining-saloon, kitchen, and two more
sleeping-cabins, with nearly seven feet headroom throughout, while
right for'ard was a low-roofed storeroom. Abaft the dining-saloon,
and gained by means of a small sliding door, was the bathroom, which
in the days when the guardship was a sea-going Thames barge had
served as the skipper's cabin. "Jolly fine, isn't it, sir!" exclaimed
Desmond. "And did the Wootton Bridge Sea Scouts do all the work of
converting her?"
"Every bit, I think," replied Mr. Graham. "I remember Mr. Tweedie
writing to me about it. They cemented the floors and the space
between the sides and the lining with ferro-concrete--nearly forty
tons of it--before they commenced the woodwork. Altogether it took
them seven months to finish the work."
"It must have cost them something," observed Frank Bedford.
"About a couple of hundred pounds," replied the Scoutmaster. "They
raised every penny of it by themselves--concerts and that sort of
thing--without cadging a single halfpenny. Well, come on. How about
grub? Then we'll go to general quarters, stow gear, and sling our
hammocks."
The first meal on board was a great success, if Jock Findlay's
initial blunder was not taken into consideration. Jock was told off
as cook for the day, and, apparently not having heard Captain
Johnson's instructions, had made the cocoa with boiling sea-water.
It was getting on for nine o'clock when the conversation related in
the beginning of this chapter took place. Already the sun had dipped
behind the tree-clad hills on the western side of the creek. Away to
the nor'ard the sky was overcast, while an on-shore breeze blew with
steadily increasing strength up the tidal estuary. The evening was
cold--decidedly chilly for July--while occasional scuds of rain
presaged a dirty night.
Presently Patrol Leader Desmond, who had been examining the entrance
to the creek with one of the telescopes, gave an exclamation of
surprise.
"What is it, Desmond?" inquired Jock, who, with the Patrol Leader,
was standing in the chartroom. "An SOS?"
"Of sorts," rejoined his chum. "There's a small craft out there
flying a signal--I'm not sure, but I think it's the NC."
Findlay snatched up the second telescope, threw open one of the
windows, and levelled the glass in the direction Desmond had
indicated. Before he could focus the instrument, the object lens was
blurred with rain.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to clean the glass.
Before Findlay could resume his investigations, Desmond had put down
his telescope. Hurrying to the head of the ladder he roused his chums
by shouting:
"On deck there, you fellows. There's a vessel in distress off the
mouth of the creek."