The Missing Patrol Leader
Shortly after three o'clock Mr. Graham, Findlay, and Hayes trudged
into Bude. They were tired and slightly footsore, but the prospect of
taking possession of their gift yacht made them forget the effects of
their long tramp.
On making inquiries for the yacht yard the Scoutmaster was directed
to the canal, the lower part of which forms the wet dock of Bude
Harbour. Outside the lock gates the harbour practically dives right
out, and is accessible only at certain states of the tide. Originally
the canal ran from Bude to Launceston, but, with the exception of a
stretch of about a couple of miles, that waterway has fallen into
decay.
"Where is the _Spindrift_, I wonder?" asked Findlay, when they
arrived at the bridge crossing the canal.
No yacht was to be seen. There were a couple of coasting
craft--topsail schooners both--and a few small boats lying in the
basin. In the outer harbour a brigantine had taken the ground, and
was lying with a pronounced list to starboard. Beyond that there was
nothing that could possibly be taken for the _Spindrift_.
"We'll soon find out where she is," rejoined Mr. Graham. "Here's the
office of the yacht yard."
One of the partners of the firm received the arrivals with
cordiality.
"Yes, she's lying well up the canal," he replied, in answer to the
Scoutmaster's question. "All the gear is on board, and we've filled
the tanks with fresh water. You have merely to provision your ship
and start away as soon as the tide serves. Oh, no: there is nothing
to pay. Mr. Collinson instructed us that the account was to be sent
on to him. We did so, and received a cheque in settlement this
morning."
"By the by," said Mr. Graham, "has a Sea Scout named Desmond--one of
our troop--called here this morning?"
"No--at least I think not," was the reply. "I was out for about an
hour, so he may have looked in. I'll ask the foreman."
The foreman, on answering the summons, volunteered the information
that he had seen a Scout hurrying along the other side of the canal.
"I didn't take much notice, sir," he added, "seeing as there be
plenty of them lads up-along in the holidays."
"Then perhaps he went straight on board," suggested Mr. Graham. "Did
you notice that he limped a little?"
"Seein' as how you mentions it, sir," replied the foreman, "I think
he did."
"That's Desmond," declared the Scoutmaster with conviction. "Well,
we'll go aboard. She's not locked up, by any chance?"
"No," replied the yacht agent. "We left the cabin door open to give
plenty of fresh air. We've a couple of hands working on a boat
alongside, so everything will be quite safe, even if your Sea Scout
isn't on board."
Five minutes later the Sea Scouts had their first glimpse of the
_Spindrift_. She was a powerful, able-looking craft, looking
spick-and-span with her freshly painted topsides and newly varnished
spars and cabin-top. Apparently her sails had been hoisted for airing
purposes during the morning, for the sail covers were off and the
canvas loosely furled.
For the moment, it must be confessed, Desmond was forgotten. In their
eagerness to inspect their new possession Scoutmaster and Sea Scouts
jumped on board and went below.
"What a decent cabin!" exclaimed Hayes. "Almost as big as the _Ocean
Bride's_."
"But not quite so high," added Findlay, speaking feelingly, for he
had just seen a galaxy of stars through his head coming in contact
with a deck-beam.
"Two bunks," continued Hayes.
"Four," corrected Jock. "Those seats form bunks, and there are two
swinging cots above them. And here's the fo'c'sle. Quite a posh
affair."
It was certainly larger than the average run of fo'c'sle in craft of
that size. One portion was partitioned off, forming a pantry to
starboard and a galley to port. On either side were "sparred"
lockers, giving plenty of fresh air, while above were two folding
cots. Right for'ard was the chain-locker, while the floor space was
occupied by a miscellaneous assortment of ropes, blocks, navigation
lamps, bucket and mop, and other articles of a yacht's equipment.
Meanwhile Mr. Graham had gone ashore to interview the two workmen
concerning Desmond. Already he was pretty certain that the Patrol
Leader hadn't been on board. Had he been so he would have carried out
the Scoutmaster's instructions and rested his foot. None of the
leather cushions in the cabin bore traces of having been sat upon
recently; nor was there any sign of Desmond's kit. Having once been
on board he was not likely to have gone off without leaving his
blankets and other baggage behind him.
The boat-builders were emphatic that no one except the employees of
the firm had been on board that morning or afternoon--not even during
the dinner hour, for they had brought their food with them, since
they lived at Stratton, a good two miles away.
"Lads!" exclaimed Mr. Graham. "We haven't found Desmond."
"I forgot all about him, sir," admitted Findlay. "Where do you think
he is?"
"I can't say," replied the Scoutmaster. "He may have missed a train.
He had to make one change."
"But he was seen along the canal, sir," said Hayes. "The description
was correct: he limped."
"Limping is not an unusual thing, especially in the holiday time,"
rejoined Mr. Graham. "Galled heels, feet cut by glass while bathing,
a hack while skylarking--there are a dozen common causes; so we
can't be certain that the Scout was Desmond. I'll go across to the
railway station and make inquiries."
"Shall we come too, sir?" asked Findlay.
"Hardly necessary, Jock," was the reply. "You've had quite enough
walking for to-day. While I'm away you might overhaul the halliards
and see how they lead. Hayes can square things up in the fo'c'sle and
see about getting the galley stove under way."
Mr. Graham set off on his quest. He was certainly anxious about
Desmond. The lad was a level-headed youth who knew how to take care
of himself, and his failure to put in an appearance was therefore
more of a serious matter than if he had been an irresponsible lad.
And had Desmond not been of a dependable character, the Scoutmaster
would not have allowed him to make the railway journey alone.
On inquiry Mr. Graham was informed, by a porter who collected the
tickets, that a Sea Scout carrying his kit and having a slight limp
had arrived by the twelve o'clock train, and, in order to confirm his
statement, he produced the tickets given up by passengers by that
train. Amongst them was one single from Launceston to Bude.
Armed with that information, the Scoutmaster made his way to the
harbour. It was now nearly low tide, and the natural breakwater of
kelp-covered rocks was high and dry. On it was a rough track leading
to the bathing pool known as Sir Thomas's Pit. Was it probable that
Desmond had gone for a bathe and had met with an accident? Hardly
likely, otherwise the news would have spread. There were always
numerous bathers on this spot, and, besides, Desmond's clothes were
marked with his name. Nor was he likely to have been cut off by the
tide, for at noon it was just about to ebb. The suggestion that the
lad might have fallen over the cliffs was also a subject for mental
debate; but this Mr. Graham rejected. A lad with a wound on his toe
was hardly likely to indulge in the pastime of scaling cliffs.
Greatly perturbed the Scoutmaster returned to the _Spindrift_. It was
now nearly six o'clock. Desmond even had he loitered anywhere--a
thing he was very unlikely to do--ought to have put in an appearance
long before that time.
Stopping only to drink a cup of tea and eat a bully beef sandwich,
Mr. Graham resumed his quest. Another visit to the yacht agent's
place proved unsatisfactory. The foreman could give no further
information; none of the other hands could throw any light upon the
matter.
The Scoutmaster's next step was to board the two coasters. The master
of each was sympathetic, but could not give any news of the missing
Patrol Leader. Inquiries of the coast-guard were equally fruitless.
"Bless you, sir!" exclaimed the look-out man. "We get dozens of
youngsters up-along here all day. Unless they get too near the cliff
or start heaving stones at the hut we don't take much stock of 'em.
He'll turn up all right, sir, never you fear. If he'd a-come to harm
you'd have 'eard about it long ago. Still, I'll keep my eyes open an'
I'll warn my relief when he takes over."
Undecided in his mind as to what course he should now pursue, Mr.
Graham was like the proverbial "cat on hot bricks" during the rest of
the evening. Being responsible for the missing boy he hesitated to
telegraph to Desmond's parents. Should the Patrol Leader turn up safe
and sound it would be a false alarm, calculated to cause needless
anxiety to them. On the other hand, if anything serious had befallen
the lad it was gross remissness on the Scoutmaster's part not to have
communicated with his people at Southend.
The same argument applied to the suggestion of communicating with the
local police.
"Hang it all, Findlay!" exclaimed Mr. Graham at length. "I can't
stick this any longer. We'll search together for him. Hayes, you had
better remain here in case Desmond puts in an appearance while we are
away."
"Ay, ay, sir," replied both lads promptly.