Shore Quarters
In spite of the delay occasioned by the rescue of the crew of the
hydro-glisseur, the _Olivette's_ run up to Rouen was accomplished by
four o'clock in the afternoon. The historic old town, viewed from the
river, interested the lads beyond measure, while the sight of the
transporter-bridge, a structure one hundred and seventy feet above
the water, and supporting a travelling car that served as a ferry,
appealed to their mechanical instincts.
"Where do you propose going to for repairs?" asked Monsieur de la
Voie.
"We were recommended to the Chantier Declos," replied Mr. Armitage.
The Frenchman smiled. "You could not have been better recommended,"
he remarked. "It happens that I keep my private boats in that yard.
There it is: on your left hand just beyond that crane."
The _Olivette_ was safely berthed, and the French mechanic, who was
able to walk with assistance, was sent ashore. His condition excited
a fair amount of sympathy and curiosity on the part of the workmen;
but when Monsieur de la Voie jumped on to the quay his reception was
exuberant.
"One would think they were all touched," remarked Roche.
The workpeople were crowding round and literally mobbing de la Voie,
talking so quickly that the Sea Scouts were unable to understand a
single sentence.
Presently the owner of the hydro-glisseur obtained a certain amount
of silence, and, beckoning to one of the men, led him aside. For some
minutes the pair conversed heatedly, Monsieur de la Voie smiting the
open palm of his left hand with his fist, while the other man
shrugged his shoulders and extended his hands. At length the latter,
evidently unable to hold his own, changed his tone completely. He
appeared to be pleading and expressing regrets. Monsieur de la Voie
dismissed him, and returned to the quayside, where the _Olivette_
lay.
"I have found out for you who is the cause of your misfortune. That
man is the captain of the tug drawing the barges, and the rearmost
barge broke her tow-rope and ran into your yacht."
"Then he is the careless blighter, monsieur," said Hepburn.
Raoul de la Voie shook his head.
"No, no," he remarked emphatically. "He asked for a new tow-rope two
weeks ago, and the owner neglected to supply him with one. So it is
the owner who is the careless blighter, _n'est-ce pas?_"
"I should think so, monsieur," agreed Alan. "Do you know who he is?"
De la Voie laughed.
"_Mais oui_," he replied. "_C'est moi_--I am the careless blighter."
Hepburn coloured up and said nothing. The Frenchman eyed him
curiously for some minutes, and then slapped the lad on the shoulder.
"There is no harm done," he exclaimed. "It is a joke. Let me explain.
I am the actual owner of the Chantier Declos, and these are my
barges. Therefore I am responsible for the damage done to your
_Olivette_, and I must needs make reparation. I have sent for my
foreman to come and make a report, and put the work in hand at once."
"Awfully sporting of you, monsieur," said Roche.
"It is a duty," declared Monsieur de la Voie.
Presently the foreman arrived, and at his suggestion the _Olivette_
was placed in a cradle and hauled up the slipway. Raoul de la Voie
received his subordinate's report and translated it for the benefit
of the crew.
"Your yacht will require a new stem-piece, breast-hook, and seven new
planks forward," he announced. "There will also be several seams to
require caulking, and, of course, painting and varnishing. My foreman
says he hopes to complete the repairs in a week or ten days."
The news was received with mixed feelings by the Sea Scouts. They
were delighted to know that the grim shadow of a very heavy bill had
vanished, since the genial Frenchman had willingly acknowledged his
liability. But a week or ten days! That meant a drastic curtailment
of the cruise. It would be impossible, in view of the delay, to carry
out the programme.
"We'll have to cut out the Paris trip, lads," said Mr. Armitage.
Poor old Tom Boldrigg looked very much down in the mouth. The
decision meant a lot to him. The opportunity of paying a visit to the
grave of his soldier son was now denied him.
"Paris?" echoed Raoul. "Why not? Is it absolutely necessary that you
proceed by water?"
"Yes, if we went at all," replied Mr. Armitage. "By living on board
we could manage the visit without much expense. Living at an hotel in
Paris is beyond our means. However, we are more fortunate than I
expected. We might have had to return home with empty pockets."
"But you cannot well live on board your yacht while the repairs are
in hand," said Monsieur de la Voie.
"I suppose that's so," agreed Mr. Armitage. "With planks out, and wet
paint about, life on board wouldn't be exactly comfortable. Perhaps
we might hire a fairly large tent and camp out somewhere away from
the town?"
"I think it could be arranged," replied Raoul. "Since I am greatly in
your debt for saving the life of my man Pierre, and for pulling me
out of the Seine, it would be a great pleasure to me if you would be
my guests. My home is at Tourville-la-Rivière, about ten kilometres
up the Seine. There I can provide a tent, and if the weather be
unpropitious there is plenty of room in the house."
The Scoutmaster gratefully accepted the invitation on behalf of the
lads and himself.
"And," continued his host, "there is no reason why you should not
visit Paris. Although I cannot well afford the time to go with you, I
can arrange for my car to take you to the city, and perhaps you might
like a tour of the battle-fields."
"Which ones, please, sir?" asked Tom Boldrigg eagerly.
"The Aisne and the Marne," replied Monsieur de la Voie. "Why do you
inquire so?"
"Because, sir," replied the old seaman, "I lost a lad on the Marne."
The demonstrative Frenchman grasped Tom's hand.
"And I lost my only brother," he said. "We were on the right of a
British division. Their dash was magnificent. Yes, I remember the
crossing of the Marne. It was there that I gained this and lost
that."
With a quick, almost apologetic gesture, he touched the ribbon of the
Legion d'Honneur and then his arm. For the first time the Sea Scouts
saw that he had an artificial hand.
"So now," he continued briskly, "all is practically arranged. If you
will collect what baggage you require, my car will be here at six
o'clock. Meanwhile, excuse me; there are certain business matters to
which I have to attend."
Punctually at the hour, Monsieur de la Voie arrived in a magnificent
touring-car. He had changed his saturated clothes, and was dressed in
a suit of British cut and material.
Behind the car came a workmanlike equipage--a Daimler with a
commercial body. Into the latter the Sea Scouts piled their kitbags
and other gear, Roche and Rayburn being told off to act as
baggage-guards.
"A low-down trick to do us out of a ride in a top-hole car," declared
Dick, laughing. It was an enjoyable journey, but the thing that
impressed the lads most was the fact that the traffic kept to the
right-hand side of the road. They had noticed this--the Continental
rule--before, but it was the first time that they had been in a
vehicle in France.
"If I had to ride a push-bike out here," declared Warkworth, "I'd
barge into everything, 'cause I'd simply have to keep to the left.
And don't the motors look weird with the left-hand drive?"
The journey was over only too soon, for in less than ten minutes from
the time the car left the shipyard, Monsieur Raoul pulled up outside
a large house standing in extensive grounds that sloped towards the
river.
"There is your tent," he said, pointing to a fairly spacious marquee
pitched on high ground about two hundred yards from the house. "I
telephoned to my steward to have it pitched at once. But first let us
have dinner."
Somewhat awed, the Sea Scouts filed into a big, gorgeously furnished
room, where they were introduced to Madame de la Voie and Madame
Ledoux, Raoul's _belle-mère_.
Dignified-looking men-servants handed round the various courses, the
nature of most of the dishes being utterly strange to the Sea Scouts.
But even their unfounded misgivings failed to blunt their keen
appetites. Stolidly, and almost in silence, they applied themselves
to the food, while Mr. Armitage chatted to his host and hostess.
When at length the Sea Scouts proceeded to their shore
sleeping-quarters, they found that there was a camp-bed provided for
each of the crew, and that their kit had been stacked ready for their
use.
"We've fallen on our feet," declared Woodleigh, as he turned in.
"You speak for yourself, young fellah-me-lad!" rejoined Roche. "It
isn't usual to fall on your feet when you sleep. This is the proper
way--on one's side."
Deftly Dick dived between the sheets; the camp-bed tilted sideways,
and the next instant Roche was lying on the grassy floor of the tent.
Shrieks of laughter arose from his companions, even Mr. Armitage
joining in the mirth at the expense of the discomfited exponent of
the art of "turning in". Without a word Roche picked up his blankets
and remade the bed, then, exercising great caution, he got in again.
"Someone must have capsized me," he soliloquized. "If it weren't for
the fact that we're not in our own quarters, I'd get my own back."
Ten minutes later most of the lads were asleep. Roche drowsily turned
over, when to his surprise the camp-bed again deposited its occupant
upon the ground.
This time all lights were out, and no one saw Dick's unpremeditated
tumble. Mystified, he groped for his bedding and once more turned in.
At seven the lads were aroused by the old sea-cry of, "Show a leg and
shine!" Already the sun was pouring down upon the dew-covered canvas.
In the woods near by the birds were singing blithely.
"Been digging yourself in, Dick?" asked Hepburn.
"No--why?" asked Roche.
Alan pointed to Dick's bed. The wooden trestles had sunk a good foot
into the ground. The mystery of Dick's double eviction was solved.
The camp-bed had been placed immediately above a mole's tunnel, and,
as the earth gave way, the bed had tilted sufficiently to deposit its
occupant upon the ground.
"I thought that you had had a hand in it," declared Roche. "But
come-back-all-I-said. Who's cook? Where's the galley?"
No one knew. The mess-traps had been brought ashore, but apparently
their host had made no provision for cooking breakfast.
"We're in France, remember," said Mr. Armitage, "and in France we
must to a certain extent do as France does. The first meal of the
day--_petit dejeuner_ it's called--is a very light repast--usually
coffee, roll, and butter."
"Oh, I say!" ejaculated the Tenderfoot ruefully. He had a typical
British appetite, and always went all-out for a good breakfast. "And
I'm so hungry."
The Sea Scouts washed and dressed with special care. Somehow they
felt that they must appear "extra smart" as the guests of Monsieur
Raoul. By eight o'clock the interior of the marquee was cleaned up
and the bedding aired and folded; but no signs of a galley-fire were
forthcoming. The lads were reconciling themselves to a cold meal of
bread and tinned beef when a man-servant appeared and announced:
"Ze breakfast: he is served in ze house, messieurs."
Monsieur de la Voie was not one who did things by halves, for when
the Sea Scouts trooped into the house they found their host awaiting
them and the table spread with an appetizing meal consisting of
coffee, new steaming rolls, fresh butter, eggs, and a large piece of
delicious ham.
Bidden to "tuck in", the lads obeyed with the greatest zest, to the
undisguised astonishment of the servants, to whom the sight of half a
dozen healthy young Britons devouring large quantities of food so
early in the day was a decidedly novel one.
"What is your programme for to-day?" inquired Monsieur Raoul. "As
matters stand, the position is this: you are my guests for ten days,
but I want you to have full liberty of action. You will, of course,
want to watch the progress of the repairs, and no doubt will want to
explore the surrounding country. I assure you it has its good points.
Then, again, there are the projected visits to Paris and to the
Marne. These will take at least three days. It is for you to say when
you will go."
Mr. Armitage warmly thanked his host.
"The weather seems settled," he added; "perhaps it would be advisable
to take advantage of it while it is fine. So if your chauffeur could
run us into Paris----?"
"Certainly," rejoined Monsieur de la Voie.