CHAPTER I
The Scoutmaster's Plan
"What's the state of the treasury, Peter?" inquired Scoutmaster Armitage.
"Sixteen pounds, sixteen shillings, and sixpence, sir," replied Patrol-leader Peter Stratton of the 1st Milford Sea Scouts. "That includes the profits from our latest concert."
"Hardly enough to buy a boat in these days of dear wages and materials," commented the Scoutmaster. "I'm very much afraid that our plans for acquiring a little cruiser will have to be deferred to a more favourable season—next year, perhaps."
"After all, sir," said Dick Roche, "we can rub along with our present boat. She's not much to look at, but we get quite a good deal of fun out of her."
The Milford Sea Scouts had been in existence only since the war. Under the scoutmastership of Mr. Armitage—late lieutenant R.N.V.R.—eight promising and undoubtedly keen youths were being grounded in the principles of seamanship and coastal navigation. The troop laboured under great disadvantages, but, as Dick Roche the optimist remarked, overcoming difficulties is often the best part of the game.
For one thing, Milford, although on the sea, possesses what is known as an open beach, and is unsuited for boating. For another, the lads had great difficulty in obtaining a boat of any description, owing to lack of funds and the scarcity of craft of all sorts. But within a few months of the founding of the troop the Sea Scouts raised the wind sufficiently to become the proud owners of an ex-naval gig, which by the aid of paint and varnish was made to look quite smart and shipshape.
The beach being unsuitable, they kept their boat at Keyhaven, a small creek a mile or so from Milford, which had the advantage of opening into the comparatively sheltered waters of the Solent.
Here they learnt to respect the furious tides that surge through Hurst Channel, to avoid the mudbanks that fringe the Hampshire shore, and to navigate their somewhat unhandy craft under sail into the intricate creeks and harbours of the Isle of Wight between Ryde and the old-world town of Yarmouth.
Their varied experiences only whetted their appetite for bigger things afloat, and the Scouts' ambition was centred upon the acquisition of a real yacht with cabin accommodation, so that they would be able to make extended cruises during the holidays.
Unfortunately, summer found them still short of their cherished goal. Old yachts, that in pre-war days might have been picked up for a few pounds, increased in value by leaps and bounds; and even the more sanguine of the troop had to admit that for the present it looked as if they would have to be content with their gig.
"Getting up entertainments seems a toshy way of raising funds," remarked Peter Stratton. "We give rotten shows. We can't act for nuts. People buy tickets because they are good-natured. They must know what they are in for when they hear I'm going to recite, or that Flemming and Woodleigh are billed to render a duet."
"Quite," agreed Dick Roche. "Pity we can't do something seamanlike. A bit of salvage, for instance."
He looked wistfully across the open sea, picturing in his mind's eye a vessel in distress requiring immediate assistance from the Milford Sea Scouts. Roche was of Cornish descent. His ancestors were probably wreckers and smugglers, and that possibly accounted for his yearning for a salvage job.
"Not much chance of that," said Reggie Warkworth. "The Totland Bay lifeboatmen are always ready for that sort of work, and there are always pilots knocking around in the Needles Channel."
"Couldn't we all sign on for a voyage in a coaster these holidays, sir?" inquired Alan Hepburn. "We'd improve our seamanship, and get a fairly tidy sum towards our new boat. Much better than knocking about here."
"Quite a sound suggestion of yours, Alan," said the Scoutmaster. "But it's open to a grave objection. For one thing, seven or eight youngsters are rather a tall order for one coasting vessel."
"Pity we couldn't get an M.-L." suggested Peter. "Like the one you had command of, sir."
Mr. Armitage did not reply. He had strong views on that subject. It was a matter of intense regret to him that the sturdy little fleet of miniature warships had not been put to better use by the Admiralty instead of being sold abroad. In a few isolated instances craft of this type were given by the Admiralty to cadet organizations, but such instances were few and far between. Already the lessons learnt by the Great War were being forgotten. One was the need of expert coastal navigators—men who could confidently take a small craft where others with deep-sea experience would fail hopelessly. From his own knowledge Mr. Armitage knew this. He had seen officers, trained in the Royal Navy and the big shipping companies, literally at sea when called upon to navigate a light-draughted craft amongst the shallows of the Thames Estuary, or the sand-banks off the Belgian coast; while yachtsmen and masters of small coasting vessels, who, during the Great War, had worn His Majesty's uniform as members of the once derided "Harry Tate's Navy" could and did perform deeds of daring in shallow waters under conditions that would have completely "floored" their deep-sea colleagues.
Armitage had hoped to be able to purchase the M.-L. he once commanded, and use her profitably and pleasurably for the instruction of his troop of Sea Scouts. He made a fair offer for her, but his advances were cold-shouldered by an unsympathetic and incompetent Small Craft Disposal Board. He had the mortification of seeing his former command rot at her moorings in an out-of-the-way creek, until 'longshore sharks "pinched" most of her fittings, and finally she was sold abroad.
"Are you sure the coaster stunt couldn't be worked, sir?" asked Alan Hepburn, returning to the charge.
"'Fraid not," replied Mr. Armitage. "What we might do is to offer to take a craft from one port to another. You see there are plenty of yachts changing hands. Their new owners might want them taken to other ports, and at the present time crews are both expensive and difficult to obtain. We could offer to navigate a small craft anywhere, say, between the Humber and Falmouth. It would give us the benefit of a fairly long coastal voyage, and as a troop our funds would benefit. We might even raise enough to buy a ten-ton cutter or yawl."
"How do we go about it?" asked Peter Stratton.
"Advertise," replied the Scoutmaster briefly. Then, after a pause, he added: "Of course, your parents' consent would have to be obtained for a job of this description. But with ordinary caution there should be little risk. A careful study of the barometer, and the knowledge that all around the coast there are harbours within a few miles of each other, ought practically to eliminate all danger. I've no use for a man who puts to sea before a rising gale, but I've the keenest admiration for the one who, 'caught out' in the open, knows how to bring his craft safely back to port. Courage and foolhardiness are as remote as the poles."
"What sort of craft do you think we might have to take, sir?" asked Woodleigh.
"Any sort, providing it is seaworthy," replied the Scoutmaster.
"I don't think my people would object," said Flemming.
"Nor mine," added Reggie Warkworth. "If they knew that you were with us," he added loyally.
Mr. Armitage smiled.
"I'm not infallible," he protested, "and quite liable to commit errors of judgment, but I'm pretty well used to this sort of thing. Well, I propose we draft an advertisement and get it inserted in the Yachting Press." The Scouts waited in expectancy while their Scoutmaster scribbled on the back of an envelope.
"How will this do?" he inquired, "'Scoutmaster (Lieutenant, R.N.V.R.) and Troop of Sea Scouts are open to navigate yachts and small craft to and from British ports, South and East Coast preferred. Moderate and inclusive terms. Reply Box so-and-so.'"
"That ought to work all right, sir," said Dick Roche. "We ought to get in quite a lot of decent sailing during the holidays."
"There's not much time to be lost, then," added Woodleigh. "We're well into July already."
"Very well, then," concluded Mr. Armitage briskly. "I'll get this advertisement inserted. Now, suppose we turn from dreams of anticipation to the stern necessities of the present. The boat-house wants setting straight, and I see that the recent gales have loosened some of the weather-board. All hands to work."
The conclave had assembled in a wooden hut built by the Sea Scouts entirely by themselves. It was a substantial wooden structure, 14 feet by 10, resting on a solid concrete foundation on a ledge half-way up the cliff. It had been built in sections on Mr. Armitage's lawn, and the sections fastened together solely by twenty-four coach-screws. The hut had been built during the Easter holidays, and, although its construction took seventeen days of hard work, the task of conveying it to the cliff and erecting it complete occupied the short space of six hours.
It was plainly and simply furnished. Wooden lockers served a double purpose, as seats and receptacles for storing boat's gear. A folding table, large enough to take a full-sized Admiralty chart, was an object of considerable ingenuity and good workmanship. On the walls were framed and varnished charts of "The Solent", "The Approaches to Spithead", and "Owers to Christchurch", in addition to a bookcase filled with story-books and textbooks dealing with the sea.
In the corner stood a signal-locker containing the flags of the International Code, the flags, like the furniture, being the handiwork of the Sea Scouts. On the locker stood an azimuth compass; while on a pair of brackets by the side of the door was a powerful telescope.
In front of the hut was a flagstaff and a windlass. The latter, purchased for a mere song, came from the wreck of a barge, and served the useful purpose of hauling the Sea Scouts' gig up the steeply-shelving pebble beach, when the state of the sea permitted its being brought round from Keyhaven.
The hut and its contents alone were sufficient to prove that the Milford Sea Scouts were handy and industrious youngsters; but that was not enough to satisfy Mr. Armitage's ambitions. He wanted them to be Sea Scouts in deed as well as in name, skilled in the art of coastal navigation and smart in elementary seamanship, so that in time to come they would be worthy members of the Empire whose existence depends upon the sea.
There were difficulties in his way. He was not a wealthy man, although fairly well off. He had a considerable amount of spare time, which he decided he could put to a good purpose by raising and training a troop of Sea Scouts. The locality was unsuitable, the facilities for getting afloat few. He realized that, like a schoolmaster, he was bound to lose his boys almost as soon as they were thoroughly trained. Others would take their places, and the moulding process would continue until the time came when he, too, would have to "hand over" to a successor.
His own experience had taught him that anyone who knew how to handle a small sailing dinghy properly can sail a yacht, but it did not necessarily follow that a person who could manage a large vessel could sail a dinghy. Carrying the process still further, it was fairly safe to assume that a single-handed yachtsman could be of material assistance if he found himself on board a big craft; hence the advantage of fostering the art of boat-sailing—a pastime of which the joys never pale—is incalculable both in peace and war.
A week elapsed, after the appearance of Mr. Armitage's advertisement, and nothing resulted. The Sea Scouts, scorning the adage "Hope deferred maketh the heart sick", kept a stiff upper lip and went about their tasks unconcernedly, "carrying on" with seamanship and navigation, and taking advantage of every opportunity of getting afloat in their gig. But, at the same time, the fact was apparent that only a month of the holidays remained.
One morning—it was the last Friday in July—the Sea Scouts were preparing to launch their boat, when Mr. Armitage appeared, looking, as Dick Roche afterwards observed, like a dog with two tails.
"Heard anything, sir?" inquired the Patrol-leader.
"It never rains but it pours," replied the Scoutmaster. "We've had two trips offered us."
"Cheerio!" ejaculated Hepburn. "Let's have it, sir."