THE SHIP-KEEPERS
"WOULD you like a roving commission Peter?" asked Scoutmaster Grant.
"Yes, rather, sir," replied Peter Craddock. "What is it?"
The Otters were off duty. That is to say they had to "remain on the
beach" while the Aberstour Sea Scouts yacht went away on a cruise
with the Seals. The _Puffin_ was ready to get under way and was only
awaiting Mr. Grant's arrival before slipping her moorings.
"A week afloat," replied the Scoutmaster. "I've seen your people and
explained matters. You noticed that ketch yacht that came in last
evening?"
"The _Thetis_, sir?"
"Yes, her owner is an old friend of mine, although I didn't
recognise him until he made himself known this morning. He is in a
bit of a hole and he came to me to know if the Aberstour Sea Scouts
could help him out. I said I thought they could."
"We'll have a jolly good shot at it, anyway, sir," exclaimed Peter.
"The difficulty is this," resumed Mr. Grant. "My friend, Mr.
Clifton, is cruising. He left Burnham-on-Crouch last Monday with a
paid hand as crew. Unfortunately, or perhaps it may turn out
fortunately, the crew proved unsatisfactory, so much so that Mr.
Clifton discharged him at Otherport and came on to Aberstour
single-handed. He tried at both places to obtain another paid hand,
but as you know the fishing season is on. When he heard that we ran
a fairly smart Troop of Sea Scouts here and that I happened to be
Scoutmaster he suggested that I might find a reliable lad to go with
him. I hinted that perhaps he might take all the Otter Patrol, but
when I told him that there were eight of them he drew the line at
that."
"'Then he missed something, sir," declared Craddock.
"But he was quite willing to have two Sea Scouts," continued Mr.
Grant. "I thought of Brandon and you, but Frank had promised to help
Old Negus on the fishing-smack _Frolic_, because Jim Negus has
broken his arm. So I fixed on Carline and you. Carline's on his way
down. Report on board the _Thetis_ before twelve o'clock. Well, I
must not keep the Seals waiting. Cheerio, Peter, and good luck."
Punctually at the appointed time, Peter Craddock and George Carline
went on board the _Thetis_, where they introduced themselves to the
owner.
Mr. Clifton was a thin, wiry man of about thirty. He was not
tall--Peter could give him a couple of inches--but he was full of
energy and as active as a kitten. He was deeply sunburnt, while his
bony hands were as hard as iron--characteristics of a yachtsman who
gets the very best out of the pastime by taking an active part in
the management of his own craft.
"I'll like that chap," thought Peter as the owner and skipper of the
_Thetis_ shook hands.
"These are the fellows I want," decided Mr. Clifton, as he gave a
swift, comprehensive glance at the two alert, well-set up Sea
Scouts. "If appearances go for anything they know their job. Thank
goodness they're wearing rubber shoes and not hob-nailed boots."
Viewed from the quayside the _Thetis_ looked very little larger than
the _Puffin_. She was ketch-rigged, with roller headsails. All her
canvas was tanned, thus doing away with the necessity of
sail-covers. What little brasswork she had shone like gold, but as
far as possible all the metal work was galvanized iron, Her cockpit
was small, but owing to her beam and the narrowness of her raised
cabin-top, there was plenty of deck space. She was whaler-sterned--a
great advantage in a heavy following sea. On the port side was a
pair of davits from which hung a dinghy fitted with an outboard
motor. Every rope was neatly coiled, the decks were spotlessly
clean, while the white enamel on her sides glistened in the
sunlight.
"Come on board," said Mr. Clifton, "and see what you think of my
little ship."
The Sea Scouts descended the ladder from the quay, for the tide was
almost at the last of the ebb, and gained the deck. Down below the
accommodation was much larger than on board the _Puffin_. There was
a spacious saloon, with a motor neatly stowed away under the
companion-ladder. Beyond that were two small sleeping cabins
separated by an alley-way so narrow that a bulky man would have to
turn sideways to make his way along. Next to the cabins was a
galley, while right for'ard was a roomy fo'c'sle with a couple of
folding cots, above wide locker seats.
Lying at full length on one of the seats was a massive sheepdog,
who, finding the visitors were accompanied by his master, lazily
wagged his stumpy tail.
"Let me introduce you to Rex," said Mr. Clifton. "Rex, old boy,
these aren't ordinary visitors, so don't look as if you were bored
stiff. 'Shun, salute!"
With an agility that seemed remarkable from such a shaggy, ponderous
animal, the sheepdog sat up and brought his left paw up.
"That's right," exclaimed his master approvingly.
"Can you tell me," he continued, addressing the two Sea Scouts, "why
a dog almost invariably 'shakes hands' with his left paw? I don't
know."
The skipper glanced at his watch.
"Tide will be making to the west'ard in half an hour," he remarked.
"We'll begin to get under way."
Evidently Rex knew what was meant, for he descended from his
resting-place and scrambled up the ladder into the cockpit.
"Where are we making for, sir?" enquired Craddock.
"Winkhaven," replied Mr. Clifton. "It's only a twenty mile run. I
generally pay a visit there every summer. Then on to Mapplewick--my
home. Righto, get to work, lads."
"Are you using the motor, sir?" asked Carline.
"No," was the reply. "I never make use of it except when absolutely
necessary. Now, carry on as if I were not here. Let me see how you
can manage entirely by yourselves."
It was a big order. The Sea Scouts were absolutely new to the yacht,
but it put them on their mettle, which was exactly what Mr. Clifton
wanted.
He noted with satisfaction that they rolled the tyers neatly when
they removed them, and that they both took care to coil away each
halliard after they hoisted the main, mizzen and head sails.
Sheltered by the high buildings fronting the quay, the _Thetis_ lay
with her canvas rippling in the light air, held only by the fore and
aft warps.
"Let go for'ard," shouted Peter to his chum as he himself cast off
the stern-rope. "Give her a fend off with the boat-hook."
Slowly the ketch gathered way. Craddock took the helm. A puff filled
the towering canvas, and the water rippled under the yacht's
forefoot.
"In fenders," ordered Craddock. "We're away."
Then with slacked-off sheets the _Thetis_ turned past the pier-heads
and was soon curtseying to the wavelets of the open sea.