Weatherbound
"Fall in, the ration party!" ordered Mr. Armitage briskly. "Because
we are weather-bound it's no reason why we should be hungry, Coming
ashore, Jackson?"
The dinghy was brought alongside, and the two Scoutmasters,
Woodleigh, Warkworth, and Hepburn pushed off. They ran alongside the
_Olivette_ on the way up to the town.
"I hoped to find you here, Armitage," said Mr. Murgatroyd. "In fact I
missed you by less than an hour at Ramsgate. Come aboard."
"We're replenishing a depleted grub locker," observed Mr. Armitage,
"so we won't stop. We'll call for you on the way back if you'll care
to have lunch on the _Rosalie_. You'll find your old crew. This is
Mr. Jackson. No, he's not _Rosalie's_ owner He's a friend assisting
us on our way. Right-o; we'll be alongside at eleven."
With the dinghy laden with fresh beef, potatoes, cabbages, bread, and
a variety of smaller commodities, the foraging-party rowed down the
river and called for their guest. The two paid hands who formed the
_Olivette's_ crew declined the invitation to visit the _Rosalie_, and
Mr. Armitage fancied that Mr. Murgatroyd looked relieved at their
decision.
"Now tell us of your adventures," suggested the Scoutmaster, when Mr.
Murgatroyd had inspected the internal arrangements of the yacht.
"There's not very much to tell," said the _Olivette's_ owner. "I soon
got fed up with the East Coast. Too many sand-banks to my liking. I
believe the _Olivette_ found a sand-bank at least three times on each
occasion she got under way. So I decided to keep her in the Solent.
It's merely a two hours' train journey from Waterloo to Southampton,
and you're in sheltered water right away."
"The difficulty was a crew. I thought of telegraphing to you at
Yarmouth, but I knew you would have your work cut out with the
_Rosalie_. The men I engaged at Brightlingsea--good fellows they
were, too--couldn't get away, as they had to go fishing later on in
the month, so I got hold of the two brigands you saw on board.
Goodness only knows where they hail from. They certainly aren't East
Coast men. However, I managed to get going, made Ramsgate, and found
that you had just left. Held on, looking into Folkestone, Newhaven,
and Shoreham on the chance of finding you, and finally came on here
in half a gale of wind. And," he added proudly, "I wasn't sea-sick. I
feel like an old salt, although I know I've a lot to learn yet. Must
get hold of some textbooks on navigation."
"Don't," interrupted Mr. Armitage earnestly. "If you do, you'll
probably chuck it up as a bad job. Three-quarters of the stuff in
books on coastal navigation isn't really necessary. It might be
useful, but it's not essential."
"Then what is?" asked Mr. Murgatroyd.
"Common sense, resourcefulness, and an ability to read a chart,"
replied the Scoutmaster. "These, in my opinion, are the essentials,
coupled with a nautical instinct. One must be born, not made, for the
sea, you know."
"My innate nautical instinct seems to be developing rather late in
life," declared Mr. Murgatroyd. "At any rate, I like it. Jolly sight
better than hogging it in a motor. When are you leaving here?"
"As soon as the weather moderates," was the reply. "Judging by the
present outlook, we might be weatherbound for a week."
"The _Olivette_ will sail in company with you, then," said her owner,
"unless my paid hands desert. I rather wish they would, because they
are the bosses and I'm a sort of human petty-cash till."
"If they do leave you in the lurch," said Mr. Armitage, "I think we
can manage to spare you three hands, enough to work the _Olivette_
round to the Solent. Lunch ready, Woodleigh?"
It was a bounteous repast in spite of the deficiency of plates and
dishes, for there had been heavy casualties in the pantry since the
_Rosalie_ left Yarmouth. Woodleigh, always a good cook, simply
excelled himself, and Mr. Murgatroyd, drawing a comparison between
the culinary arrangements on the _Rosalie_ and the _Olivette_, felt
decidedly envious.
At high water the harbour-master came alongside, and, having
collected dues, suggested that the _Rosalie_ should shift her berth.
"You'll be all right between those two buoys," he said. "You'll
probably ground at low water, but the mud's soft, so you won't heel
there."
For the next three days it blew hard. The Sea Scouts endured the
forced detention with fortitude, but whenever they landed and walked
to the pier-head the aspect of the English Channel rather made them
wonder whether it was going to be rough for weeks. As far as the eye
could see, there were tumultuous, white-crested waves.
On Saturday morning Stratton saw Mr. Murgatroyd making violent
gesticulations from the deck of the _Olivette_. Promptly the yacht's
dinghy put off to find out the reason of the unorthodox semaphoring
display. The owner of the _Olivette_ was excited and jubilant.
"They've deserted," he announced. "The scoundrels were paid on Friday
night, and this morning they were missing. A waterman probably landed
them."
"Perhaps they'll roll up again," suggested Mr. Armitage.
"Not they," declared Mr. Murgatroyd with conviction. "They've taken
their gear. No, I don't want them back. Armitage, I accept your
offer. Lend me Roche, Warkworth, and Hepburn, and I'll be eternally
indebted to you."
The three Sea Scouts mentioned by name readily fell in with the
arrangement, and their kit was transferred to the _Olivette_.
"I have a proposal to make," began Mr. Murgatroyd when, later on in
the day, he paid a visit to the _Rosalie_. "You may think it
downright cheek, Armitage, and you may turn it down if you want to."
"Fire away, then," prompted the Scoutmaster.
"Your head-quarters are on the Solent, aren't they?"
"Not quite. There's a creek where we keep our sailing-boat--Keyhaven
it's called--about a mile or so from Milford. That opens into the
Solent."
"Enough water for the _Olivette_?" continued Mr. Murgatroyd.
"Plenty inside, but she wouldn't be able to get out at low-water
springs," replied Mr. Armitage.
"Look here," said the _Olivette's_ owner, after making inquiries as
to which was the nearest railway station. "This is my scheme: Suppose
I keep the _Olivette_ at Keyhaven, will your Sea Scouts look after
her? Take me for trips when I can run down? If so, you can use her
whenever you want, whether I'm there or not. Virtually I remain the
owner, but in practice she's yours."
"Quite a good scheme, from our point of view," replied Mr. Armitage.
"In fact, it looks rather like sponging on you. We hardly----"
"Rot!" interrupted Mr. Murgatroyd. "It's a _quid pro quo_
arrangement. I save both money and worry by it. Say the word, and
she's ready for you when you've handed over the _Rosalie_."
"Well, boys," said the Scoutmaster, "shall we accept Mr. Murgatroyd's
offer, and signify our appreciation in the usual manner?"
The _Rosalie's_ cabin resounded to three lusty cheers. Mr.
Murgatroyd, beaming with delight, protested unavailingly against the
display of boyish exuberance.
"That's settled, then," he said. "In future the _Olivette_ is the
Milford Sea Scouts' craft."
Towards evening the rain ceased and the wind decreased considerably,
flying off the land. With a rising barometer in conjunction with a
rising thermometer, there were indications that the weather was
improving, and that the _Rosalie's_ enforced detention at
Littlehampton was merely a matter of a few more hours.
"Jolly good thing we are weatherbound," declared Flemming. "We've
struck good luck here. Fancy having the use of the _Olivette_. Sounds
too good to be true. Pinch me, Peter, to see if I'm awake. O--oh! Not
so hard, you silly owl!"