"In the Ditch"
The French Scouts remained on board for another half-hour. They
inspected and were duly impressed by the _Olivette_ and her
equipment; they exchanged confidences with their brother Sea Scouts,
to whom difference of nationality counted for little as far as the
Universal Brotherhood of Scouts went. Before they took their
departure, the French boy's invited the _Olivette's_ crew to a picnic
at Equeurdreville--a seaside hamlet a few miles to the west of
Cherbourg--on the following morning.
"I do not think we shall be able to accept," said Peter. "We are
sailing for Havre early to-morrow, if all's well."
One of the French Patrol Leaders shrugged his shoulders and threw out
the palms of his hands in a characteristic Gallic attitude.
"I do not think you vill sail," he remarked.
"Why not?" asked Stratton.
The lad pointed in the direction of Fort l'Onglet, above which a
cone, point uppermost, had been hoisted to the yard-arm of a mast.
"_Regardez bien!_" he exclaimed.
Mr. Armitage, following the direction of the French Patrol Leader's
outstretched finger, noted the signal. It meant that bad weather--a
gale from the nor'ard--was approaching. If any confirmation were
necessary the barometer proved it. The glass had fallen four-tenths
in less than a couple of hours.
"There's one thing," observed Stratton, after the visitors had taken
their departure. "It's one of those short, sharp summer gales:
'Long foretold, long last,
Short warning, soon past'.
It's a good thing we're in a secure harbour."
Flemming made a wry face.
"It's too much of a good thing," he protested. "I've never, never
been in a basin before, and this one's quite enough. Doesn't it
whiff?"
"It does," admitted Peter. "Now you come to mention it, there is an
odour of sorts."
"And those little bounders the French ragamuffins," continued Eric.
"The stuff lying on the decks is only a small part of what they
threw. I cleared up three times before the Cherbourg Scouts came upon
the scene and chased them off. Hello, what's this coming?"
The lock gates were open and a large tramp steamer was being warped
into the Bassin-à-Flot. From where the _Olivette_ lay, the steamer's
stern was masked by the rise of her deckhouse and bridge, but the
ensign was just visible--a dirty, wind-frayed, coal-grimed piece of
red bunting with a Union Jack in the upper quarter next the staff.
That nondescript piece of bunting meant something real to the British
Sea Scouts. Even though they had not long left their native shores
they were already fully aware that they were strangers in a foreign
land, but here was a bit of England--technically British soil
although afloat--and the sight of it was cheering.
The harbourmaster, purple with incoherent shouting, hurried along the
quay-side, waving his arms and pointing frenziedly at the on-coming
tramp.
"What does he want?" exclaimed Hepburn.
"I rather fancy he wants us to shift," remarked Peter.
The Patrol Leader's surmise was confirmed by a voice hailing from the
tramp's bridge.
"Ahoy, there!" shouted a short, thick-set, jovial-looking officer
clad in a salt-stained serge uniform. "Can you drop astern a couple
of lengths?"
"Ay, ay," replied Peter, and in a very short time the _Olivette's_
warps were cast off and the boat tracked aft along the quay.
When the _Acacis_--for that was the tramp's name--was safely berthed,
the officer who had hailed the _Olivette_ came aft.
"Thanks!" he exclaimed. "You Sea Scouts know your job, I can see."
"Thank you," replied Peter. "May we come aboard you and have a look
round?"
"Right-o," was the reply.
The skipper of the _Acacis_--bound from Cardiff to Cherbourg and Le
Havre--made the Sea Scouts right welcome. It was, for the majority of
them, the first opportunity they had had of "looking over" a big
vessel.
"Yes, it'll blow before night," the skipper observed in answer to
Peter's question. "We struck it pretty bad off the Longships, and
right across the Channel there was a tidy roll on. That generally
means a bit of a blow. You'll be here for the best part of a week,
I'll allow."
The Sea Scouts showed no enthusiasm over this piece of information.
Flemming was positively downhearted.
"Look here," suggested the _Acacis_' Old Man, when he learnt of the
unwelcome attentions of the Cherbourg gamins, "why not lie alongside
of us? You'll get a tidy bit of coal-dust, but that's a jolly sight
better than cabbage-stalks and dead cats dumped on your deck."
The offer was gladly accepted. The _Olivette's_ bow-warp was passed
on board the tramp and the boat hauled alongside the _Acacis_'
starboard side. Sheltered by the latter vessel's towering hull, the
_Olivette_ was no longer a target for the ragamuffins of the port.
As the skipper had predicted, it blew hard at sunset, the gale
continuing all the following day, accompanied by heavy showers. But
the _Olivette_ was in snug shelter, the basin being completely
landlocked, while the rain did not prevent the Sea Scouts enjoying
the hospitality of their French friends.
At length the storm moderated, and on the fourth day the sea had
subsided sufficiently to enable the _Olivette_ to resume her voyage.
The _Acacis_, having discharged a portion of her cargo, was also due
to leave Cherbourg for Le Havre. Directly the gates of the
Bassin-à-Flot were opened, the _Olivette_ motored through into the
Avant-Port. Here she tied up, for it was inadvisable to make a start
for the east'ard before half-ebb. By so doing the _Olivette_ would
"carry her tide" for eight or nine hours, and as the tides run
strongly off the French coast, the question of "working them" was an
important one.
Mr. Armitage had to obtain clearance papers and lay in sundry stores,
so that the time was not wasted, and when the _Olivette_ headed
seaward, the _Acacis_ was steaming through the East Channel.
"We've about one knot advantage in speed," remarked the Scoutmaster,
"but we'll slow down a bit and let her pilot us. It's rather a
dangerous bit of coast between here and Cape Levi. Look at that
broken water. Anyone would think that there was a gale raging off
that point, but it's merely a tidal race."
Dead in the wake of the tramp, and about a cable's length astern, the
_Olivette_ kept. At intervals members of the _Acacis_' crew
semaphored jocular messages to the Sea Scouts, to which the latter
replied with the greatest zest.
About five miles beyond Cape Barfleur the _Olivette_ overtook a
French fishing smack. One of the crew of the latter, noticing that
the Sea Scouts were semaphoring, attempted to send them a message.
"Dashed if I can make out what that fellow is saying," exclaimed
Hepburn with a puzzled look. "Can you, Reggie?"
Warkworth shook his head. He was reckoned to be a good signaller, but
the Frenchman's semaphoring was beyond him.
"I'm not surprised," said Peter. "The French system is different from
ours. Don't you remember when we were at Dover----"
The Patrol Leader's reminiscence was interrupted by a warning shout
from old Tom Boldrigg, who was in his favourite post as look-out man.
Simultaneously the _Acacis_ put her helm over to starboard, while a
white object was hurled from her port quarter.
"Man overboard," shouted Boldrigg. "A hand from the tramp's in the
ditch."
Mr. Armitage opened the window of the wheel-house and warned Roche to
stand by with his reversing-lever.
"There he is!" exclaimed Peter. "A point on our port bow."
"Easy ahead!" ordered the Scoutmaster, then "Stop!"
The _Olivette_ was now within fifty yards of the man, who was
swimming towards the buoy. It was evident that he was not a good
swimmer. He was splashing violently, and making very little headway
in proportion to the energy he displayed, and already his strength
was diminishing. It was a question whether he might succeed in
gaining the buoy before he became exhausted.
Flemming, Woodleigh, and Warkworth ran for'ard, the former with a
boat-hook and the others with life-lines. Eric shouted encouragement
to the swimmer, and for the first time the man seemed conscious of
the approach of the _Olivette_.
"He's almost done for!" exclaimed Woodleigh.
The time taken by the _Olivette_ to approach the man seemed
interminable, but as there was a considerable "lop" on, Mr. Armitage
dare not risk holding on at any speed for fear of running down the
swimmer. The Scoutmaster was manoeuvring to bring the boat to a
standstill dead in the eye of the wind and close to the man. Once the
_Olivette_ got broadside on to the wind she would be swept far to
leeward of the swimmer, and lose valuable time before she could again
get within close distance.
Flemming held the boat-hook stave towards the man, but the latter had
not the strength to grasp the ash pole. Before the Sea Scout could
reverse the boat-hook and catch the swimmer with the metal hook, the
man was beyond reach.
Warkworth hurled a line, but the rope being new, the coils failed to
free themselves, and the bight fell short.
Without hesitation, Woodleigh leapt into the sea, taking one end of
the line with him.
Half a dozen strokes brought him to the man, who was actually on the
point of sinking. The fact that his chums were holding on to the end
of the rope gave Woodleigh confidence. Regardless of the risk of
being clutched by a drowning man, Will allowed himself to be caught
in a desperate grip. Down he went, rescuer and rescued in a mutual
embrace; then the line tautened, and in another fifteen seconds
willing hands grasped the plucky Scout and his now almost senseless
burden and hauled them into safety.
Woodleigh, none the worse for his immersion, beyond the fact that he
had swallowed a good half-pint of salt water, went below to change
his clothes. Flemming, Hepburn, and Warkworth attended to the rescued
man, who was now quite insensible.
Meanwhile, the _Acacis_ had starboarded helm and reversed her
engines. Her skipper had seen that the _Olivette_ was proceeding to
the rescue, and, having witnessed the successful issue of the
attempt, had given orders for a boat to be lowered to bring the man
back.
"Semaphore the _Acacis_, Alan," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Tell them
to carry on, and we'll hand over the man at Havre. He's not in a fit
state to be moved at present."
The tramp acknowledged the signal, and replied that the arrangement
would be most satisfactory; then both vessels, having resumed their
former course, headed for the still distant port of Le Havre.
"You managed that awfully well, sir," exclaimed Peter.
"Did I?" rejoined Mr. Armitage. "As a matter of fact it was quite an
easy matter, because we were in the wake of the tramp. Supposing one
of us had fallen overboard, what would you have done?"
"Thrown over a life-belt, sir," replied the Patrol Leader.
"And what then?"
"Gone astern," was the reply.
Mr. Armitage shook his head.
"Never in a light-draughted, single-screwed boat," he declared.
"She'd never answer to her helm while going astern, and if the wind
were abeam, she'd be blown to lee'ard of the man in the water. Now
remember, if there's time, put the boat's helm over so that the
boat's stern flies away from the person overboard. That is to avoid
hitting him with the propeller, since men who have fallen overboard
almost invariably try to swim towards the boat. Then, keeping 'easy
ahead', make a complete circle and come up bows on to the man,
keeping just enough way for the boat to answer her helm, and still
get there quicker and with far more chance of success than by any
other way."
"I'll remember that, sir," said Peter. "But I hope I'll never have to
try it."
"And I, too," added Mr. Armitage fervently. "But one never knows."