A Gift worth Having
"Couldn't we have the boys in?" asked the Scoutmaster. "They'd like
to hear all about your gift to them."
"If you like," agreed Mr. Collinson. "As long as we stick to facts, I
don't mind; but don't make a song about what I've done. I hate having
to hear my praises sung and all that sort of thing. After all, it's
_quid pro quo_, or one good turn deserves another."
The Scoutmaster went into the charthouse and looked around. Desmond,
Bedford, and Hayes were paddling around in the dinghy, Findlay was
fitting up a fishing-line. Coles as "cook of the day" was in the
galley.
The Scoutmaster gave a shrill blast on his whistle. "All hands!" he
shouted from the head of the quarter-deck ladder.
The summons was smartly obeyed, and the five Sea Scouts fell in and
awaited orders.
"Mr. Collinson wishes to have a palaver with you," announced Mr.
Graham briefly. The lads filed into the saloon on the upper deck,
where Mr. Collinson was sitting In a comfortable arm-chair in front
of a large window that commanded an extensive view of the creek. His
injured arm was in a sling, but, apart from that, he looked in
perfect condition.
Mr. Collinson looked at Mr. Graham; Mr. Graham looked at Mr.
Collinson. For some moments there was absolute silence, each waiting
for the other to speak.
"Fire away!" prompted the patient.
"It's your show," retorted the Scoutmaster, then without a break he
addressed his lads: "Mr. Collinson has made the troop a present. He
will explain the nature of the gift."
Mr. Collinson cleared his throat. He realized that the Scoutmaster
was "one up". He had no option but to speak.
"It's only this," he began. "You're a jolly decent crowd of fellows.
I've had you under observation, don't you see, and you're really
smart at boat work. 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. "One question at a time.
Do any of you fellows know what a Falmouth quay punt is like?"
Most of the Sea Scouts did not. The word "punt" conveyed the idea of
a small, flat-bottomed craft used for duck-shooting. That sounded
like "very small beer" compared with a yacht.
"I know, sir," replied Findlay. "A square-sterned boat, drawing about
six feet, with a dipping-lug mainsail and a standing lug mizzen. I've
read about them in one of the yachting papers."
"Good lad!" exclaimed the donor approvingly. "Well, the _Spindrift_
is something of that type, only she's a yacht. She is thirty-two feet
over all, with a beam of nine feet and a draught of five feet ten
inches. She is straight-stemmed and has a transom stern. She's an old
boat but quite sound, so you needn't be afraid of the keel dropping
off in a seaway. In fact, the whole of the keel bolts were renewed
eighteen months ago. What is a dipping-lug, Coles?"
The Tenderfoot knew. Although that type of sail is not common in the
Essex estuaries, he had seen Scottish fishing-boats at Yarmouth.
"A sail you have to lower a little and set it on the other side of
the mast whenever you go about, sir," he replied promptly.
"Which means a lot of hard work, especially in a stiff breeze," added
Mr. Collinson. "Well, that would be beyond you fellows, I fancy, but
you needn't let that trouble you. The _Spindrift_ is ketch-rigged
with gaff mainsail and mizzen. She's rather under-canvassed, which is
in her favour. The West Country boatmen used to tell me she'd 'starve
me before she drowned me', which is the same as saying she's slow
but very seaworthy. She has a cabin and a watertight cockpit, so if
you happen to be caught out there's little to fear, provided you know
how to manage her."
"Where is she, sir?" asked Hayes. "At Cowes?"
"A good deal farther away than Cowes," came the reply. "She's at
Bude, which is in Cornwall. You'll have to sail her round Land's
End."
"How topping, sir," exclaimed Desmond. "When can we go for her?"
"That, I take it, depends upon your Scoutmaster's arrangements," said
Mr. Collinson. "It is out of my province altogether. I'll write to
Brice and Sons--they're in charge of her--and tell them to launch
her and put her on moorings as soon as possible. Well, that's that. I
wish you jolly good luck with the _Spindrift_."
The Sea Scouts gave three cheers, then, almost falling over each
other and themselves in their excitement, they went on deck to
discuss their good fortune.
"I wonder why he gave the yacht to us?" asked Bedford.
"'Cause we did him a few good turns," replied the Tenderfoot.
"We didn't expect any reward, though," added Findlay, true to the
traditions of Scouting. "And no one can say we cadged from him."
"Like that troop of Sea Scouts we read about the other day," added
the Patrol Leader. "They got hold of a seaplane float somewhere, and
then advertised for someone to give them a motor to shove into it.
Give, mind you! It's like taking a button to a tailor and asking him
to make a suit to take it for nothing. But we're lucky. I wonder when
we start and how we're going to get there?"
"What I want to know," said Bedford, "is who's going to stay and look
after the guardship? We're responsible to the Wootton Bridge Sea
Scouts until they come home."
The others drew long faces at that. The proposition had not occurred
to them before.
"Bradley and some of the other chaps will be coming down," declared
Findlay. "Mr. Graham heard from them this morning."
Bradley was the Patrol Leader of the Otters, belonging to the same
troop as Desmond.
"Yes, in a fortnight's time," said Hayes gloomily. "We don't want to
wait till then."
"And they might want to come, too," added Findlay. "After all,
they've got a right to. The _Spindrift_ was given to the troop, and
not to Mr. Graham and us five only."
"Mr. Collinson said 'you lads'," remarked the Tenderfoot.
"Coles," said the Patrol Leader, "you hop it! The palaver ended ten
minutes ago. You're cook; it's nearly tea-time and we're hungry. Off
you go."
Much as the Tenderfoot wished to hear the end of the discussion, he
went without a murmur. He realized that the Patrol Leader had the
authority to send him back to duty, and Desmond's word was law when,
in the absence of the Scoutmaster, he was in charge of the patrol.
"We'll tell you everything at tea," called out Desmond after the
departing cook. "In fact," he added, addressing the others, "we ought
to wait till the kid's present. He's one of us, although he's only a
tenderfoot."
Mr. Graham was quite a long time before he put in an appearance. He
had been talking with Mr. Collinson, and it was not until the whistle
sounded for tea that he rejoined the rest of the patrol.
"When do we start, sir?" asked the lads.
"On Monday, all being well," was the reply. "But before we make final
arrangements there are many points to discuss. The first one is, how
do we get to Bude?"
"Trek there, sir," suggested Bedford. "It would cost an awful lot to
go by train."
"Too far," objected the Scoutmaster. "If we had plenty of time it
might be done. No, our best plan will be to walk to Cowes, take
steamer to Southampton, and then train as far as Exeter. That leaves
us fifty miles, mostly across Dartmoor. We might trek that distance
in two days, but we'll be carrying full pack, remember."
"And camp out on the way, sir?" asked Hayes. "That will be fine."
"Let's hope it will be fine," added Findlay jocularly. "And how long
will it take to sail the _Spindrift_ round, sir, do you think? Has
she a motor?"
"No, she hasn't, unfortunately," replied Mr. Graham, thinking of the
old days during the war when three years in an M.L. rather spoiled
him for long and possibly tedious trips under sail only. "So I can't
say how long it will take us. We may get a fair breeze round the land
and up-Channel; or we may get alternate calms and strong head winds.
That is a matter quite beyond our control. There's another point: a
couple of hands must stay here to give an eye to things. And it's up
to us to assist Mr. Collinson while he's practically helpless on
board his yacht."
"A couple of hands, sir?" asked Bedford.
"Yes, a couple," was the reply. "One will be company for the other
until Bradley, Johns, and Dexter turn up."
Mr. Graham was on the point of asking who would volunteer and remain,
but on consideration he decided that it was asking rather too much of
the keen youngsters.
"Desmond goes in any case," he continued. "He will be in charge when
I'm off duty, if we have to make a long passage. That leaves four of
you to pick from. I think the fairest way would be to take two for
half the trip, say from Bude to Plymouth, and the other two, when
relieved, can come to Plymouth by train and carry on from there.
We'll draw for it."
Producing three matches, Mr. Graham cut one in half and held the two
long and two short pieces between his finger and thumb, so that the
visible ends were perfectly level.
"Now, Coles, take one."
The Tenderfoot drew a short stick. So did Bedford. "That settles it,"
announced the Scoutmaster. "Findlay and Hayes take on from Bude to
Plymouth; the others from Plymouth to Wootton."