CHAPTER VIII
A Tow
"I wonder what Mr. Murgatroyd intends doing with the Olivette when he gets her to Teddington," remarked Roche next morning, while the crew were awaiting the arrival of the owner. "She can't be run 'all out', and there's a good engine practically wasted."
"It puzzles me," added Stratton, "why he should be content to be on board as a mere passenger. He hasn't taken the wheel once. I know I jolly well would if I were in his place."
"Perhaps he's going to engage a permanent crew," suggested Hepburn.
"'Tany rate she's the wrong type of boat for this ditch," declared the Patrol-leader. "Wouldn't I like to try her in a sea-way! Give an eye to that bacon, Dick. We don't want it burnt to a cinder."
"How's the glass this morning, sir?" inquired Alan, as Mr. Armitage emerged from his cabin.
"Falling rapidly," replied the Scoutmaster, giving a glance aloft at the clouds scudding across the sky. "We're in for a short, sharp spell of dirty weather, I'm afraid. However, we must take the bad with the good, and keep smiling. Any sign of Mr. Murgatroyd yet?"
"He's just coming, sir," replied Flemming. "There he is, walking along the tow-path."
It was 5 a.m.—or four o'clock by Greenwich time. The sun had not yet risen, although it was quite light. An early morning start was desirable, and since Mr. Murgatroyd did not wish unduly to inconvenience the hotel staff, he arranged to have breakfast on board.
"Good morning, everyone!" he exclaimed. "Bless my soul! What a delicious breakfast. Who's the cook? My hunger will astonish you."
He sniffed the air appreciatively.
"Do you know that this is the first time for twenty years that I've seen the sun rise," he continued. "I feel like kicking myself for having wasted my opportunities. Now, then, let's see who's the best trencherman."
Directly breakfast was finished Warkworth was told off to wash up, while the rest of the crew set to work to get under way. Mr. Armitage, undaunted by the previous day's events, had sufficient faith in Alan Hepburn to place him at the wheel.
"You know what that awkward bend is like, Alan," he remarked. "That's half the battle. Carry on."
Hepburn felt decidedly "bucked". He realized that the stranding of the Olivette had not gone against him in his Scoutmaster's opinion. He had been given an unqualified chance of again tackling what was admittedly a difficult bit of navigation, taking into consideration the length and general unhandiness of the boat when running under considerably reduced power.
That notwithstanding, Alan found himself approaching the scene of the grounding with a sense of suppressed excitement. He wasn't exactly nervous, but he vaguely wondered whether he would be able to do the trick this time.
Mr. Armitage noted with silent approval that the young helmsman was hugging the right bank. That gave him a better turning circle when the critical moment arrived to starboard helm.
This time the manoeuvre was successfully accomplished. Then followed an intricate bit of the river through and beyond Wargrave, where the stream is obstructed by numerous "aits", or islands.
Mile after mile was reeled off in grand style. By this time the locks were no longer novelties to the Sea Scouts—they became monotonous. Marlow, with its huge weir, interested them, but they voted the river between Bourne End and Maidenhead the best from a picturesque point of view.
As they approached Boulter's Lock it began to rain in torrents, so oilskins and sou'westers were donned. The downpour proved a blessing in disguise, because the Olivette was spared the intricate business of entering a lock crowded with frail pleasure-boats. As it happened, the most famous lock on the Thames was almost deserted.
Windsor Castle, viewed in the sunlight as the clouds temporarily cleared, enthralled the Sea Scouts. They realized that in that noble pile was embodied the history of nearly a thousand years.
"I wish we had time to go over the Castle," remarked Roche wistfully.
"So do I," agreed Mr. Armitage. "But this is a business proposition, Roche; we've contracted to undertake two tasks in a given time, and it's up to us to carry them out."
Magna Carta Island, looking much like the rest of the Thames islands, was passed soon afterwards—a flat, uninteresting strip of ground famous for the fact that the greatest deed that gave the English people their liberty was enacted here, when the barons forced King John to sign the all-important charter.
The afternoon found the Olivette off Hampton Court. Her voyage was approaching the end. There were evidences that she was nearing the great Metropolis.
"We'll do it easily this time," said Mr. Armitage, addressing the owner.
"Yes," replied Mr. Murgatroyd dubiously. "I can't say that I'm at all pleased with the river. From a scenic point of view it's all right; but what's the use of a big boat like this? I can't run her at any speed."
He paused to watch a long, lean motor-launch glide past, overtaking the Olivette with the greatest ease, yet leaving hardly any wash in her wake.
"That's the sort of thing," he continued.
"For the Thames above London," agreed the Scoutmaster. "I wouldn't care to take her down to the Nore, but this boat would go anywhere."
"I wonder if I would be a good sailor," remarked Mr. Murgatroyd.
"You'll be able to find that out later, if you wish," said Mr. Armitage. "With a competent engineer and coxswain, you ought to get heaps of pleasure out of her on the East Coast."
"Good idea that," agreed the owner. "East Coast—bracing air, open sea, go as fast as you can. That's sensible. No ditch-crawling with two cylinders cut out and the throttle almost closed. I remember spending a pleasant holiday years ago at a little place called Brightlingsea. Know it?"
"I've heard of it," admitted Mr. Armitage. "Although during the war I was stationed some time at Harwich, I never put into the Colne, which is only about thirty miles distant."
"Will you take the Olivette to Brightlingsea for me?" asked Mr. Murgatroyd bluntly. "I'll willingly pay another ten pounds."
The Scoutmaster hesitated a few moments. He had to think things out. It would give the lads an opportunity of open sea work in a boat that they were by this time fairly well acquainted with. In addition, Brightlingsea was well on the way to Great Yarmouth.
"We'll manage it," he replied. "If there are no delays, unavoidable or otherwise; it will fit in with our present arrangements."
"What are you doing this sort of thing for?" asked Mr. Murgatroyd with his natural bluntness. Needless to say, he hailed from 'twixt Tees and Trent. "Making a living out of it?"
Mr. Armitage smiled.
"Hardly," he replied. "Otherwise I might soon find myself in the 'cart'. No, it's a scheme to help my Sea Scouts to purchase a weatherly sort of boat, one on which they can sleep under cover. Since by the Scout Regulations they are not allowed to receive monetary rewards for doing nothing—in other words, cadging—they must earn their salt honestly."
"Good scheme," agreed Mr. Murgatroyd. "Take it from me, a self-made old buffer, that money easily acquired is not appreciated to anything like the extent as if you'd had to work jolly hard for it. Right-o! we're for Brightlingsea, then. Anything you require for the voyage?"
"More fuel," replied the Scoutmaster. "If we refill the paraffin-tank, it ought to take us there. Provisions, I think, are sufficient. I'll have to go ashore near London Bridge and buy a chart of the mouth of the Thames. Mine is from the Nore eastwards."
It was early in the afternoon when the Olivette passed through the great lock at Teddington, and entered the tidal waters of the Thames. It was now just after high water, and the mud-banks on the northern shore were covered.
"Can't we increase speed, sir?" asked Stratton, noticing several fussy, high-powered steam-tugs making quite a swell.
"Connect up all four cylinders, and see how she takes it," assented the Scoutmaster. "Don't give her full throttle. Many a good motor has been spoiled by opening out before the bearings have been properly run in."
The Olivette increased speed. Although there was a fair amount of vibration, it was not so marked as when the motor was running on two cylinders. It was possible to leave a plate on the cabin table and not find it making steady progress from one end to the other, a tendency that had already been responsible for several casualties amongst the crockery-ware.
"Now she feels it!" exclaimed Hepburn, as the Olivette encountered the "wash" of a tug, lifting her bows and plunging into the trough, at the same time flinging a shower of spray far on either side. "Almost like being at sea once more."
Mr. Armitage thought so too. He was once more in his element. The narrow, tideless waters of the Thames, with their crowds of pleasure-craft, manned for the most part by inexperienced amateurs, were left astern. Ahead was a commercial waterway frequented by men whose business was upon the sea, and who knew the "Rule of the Road" by heart. The Scoutmaster could take the Olivette through the maze of shipping with confidence—confidence in himself and confidence in those in command of the craft he met, since "they knew their job". Failure to know it on the part of one would almost certainly result in an accident, possibly disaster; but a cool head and a steady hand at the wheel were sure and certain passports to safety.
The Sea Scouts were most enthusiastic over the change of plans. With the budding instinct of seamanship they welcomed the idea of taking the Olivette out to sea. There lurked a spice of danger, a possibility of being able to achieve something.
"Now," said Mr. Armitage, as the boat passed over the half-tide barrage at Richmond, "we are not ditch-crawling: it's sea routine. Stratton, you take the starboard watch, with Warkworth as deck hand. Roche will be engineer of that watch. The others, under Hepburn, will be in the port watch, with Woodleigh for deck duties. One is quite enough for the engine-room, except when starting up. Starboard will take on at the first Dog Watch. That will start the routine well."
As far as London Bridge progress was rapid, except when it became necessary to avoid lumbering lighters "shooting the bridges" with the now strong ebb-tide. Here the Olivette brought up alongside a wharf and refilled tanks, while the Scoutmaster hied him to Potter's to purchase the necessary chart.
"Will Gravesend suit for to-night?" asked Mr. Armitage on his return.
"Anywhere," replied Mr. Murgatroyd. "If necessary, I'll sleep on board. In fact, I'd rather like it."
It meant turning Stratton out of his bunk, but the owner didn't know that. On the other hand, should it become necessary for the Olivette to weigh she could do so without having to wait for Mr. Murgatroyd.
"I have a couple of rugs in my portmanteau," he continued. "It isn't the first time I've slept 'rough'."
"But we don't sleep 'rough' on board, sir," expostulated Roche. "It's as comfortable as anything, even in the lockers in the cockpit."
"Lamps all trimmed, I hope, Peter?" asked the Scoutmaster. "We don't want to be under way after dark if it can be avoided, but we must be prepared if the contingency arises."
Throughout the trip down the Lower Thames—or London River, as it is termed in the sea-faring world—Mr. Armitage remained in the wheel-house, ready to give directions to the helmsman should occasion occur. But, following his usual plan, he allowed the lad at the wheel to exercise his own discretion—a plan that worked admirably. It gave the coxswain confidence, but at the same time he realized that if he did get in a tight corner the Scoutmaster was there, ready to help him out of the difficulty. "We'll carry our tide right to Gravesend, I think," remarked Mr. Armitage, as he shut up the tide-table book. "The flood makes at 6.30."
"Does it matter with a motor?" asked Roche.
"Yes, but not to the same extent as if we were dependent on sail-power. We're doing nine knots now, with a three-knot ebb under us. That means we are doing twelve knots past the land. With the tide against us we would be doing only six. In that case——"
"There's a barge hailing us, sir," reported Warkworth, who was "look-out" on duty. "Wants a tow, I think."
Mr. Armitage went on deck. Eighty or a hundred yards away was a large sprit-rigged Thames barge, light in ballast. She was dropping down with the tide. Her large expanse of tanned canvas was hardly drawing, for the breeze, which had held strongly during the greater part of the day, had "petered out ".
"Tug, ahoy!" hailed the skipper of the barge, a short, rotund man, clad in a blue jersey, tanned trousers and sea-boots, and wearing a billy-cock hat. "Can you give us a pluck as far as Gravesen'?"
Mr. Armitage glanced at Mr. Murgatroyd.
"Go on," said the latter. "It'll be a bit of fun. Let's see what the Olivette can do with a craft like that."
"It will mean increased fuel-consumption," cautioned the Scoutmaster, "and perhaps finishing up against the tide in the dark. We're not off Woolwich yet."
"It's my paraffin you're burning," remarked the owner with a chuckle. "If I don't mind, you needn't. And a run in the dark won't hurt us. It isn't a case of 'I'm afraid to go home in the dark', is it?"
By this time the Olivette, although her engine was stopped, had overlapped the barge. The skipper of the latter, evidently fearing that his request would be "turned down ", brought his hands trumpet-wise to his mouth and bellowed:
"I'll give you ten pun' for a tow."
"Take on the job, Armitage," said his employer.
The Scoutmaster raised one arm in a gesture of assent, and immediately the crew of the barge—two men and a boy—prepared to run out a warp.
"All out!" ordered Mr. Armitage, when the barge had gathered way in the wake of the powerful little motor-craft.
"I don't know whether we are transgressing and breaking regulations by towing for hire," observed the Scoutmaster.
"We were asked," replied: Mr. Murgatroyd. "The skipper is evidently in a hurry, or else he wouldn't have offered ten pounds."
"You've earned something by keeping on," said Mr. Armitage.
"Not I," protested the owner. "I'm only a sort of passenger."
"As owner you are entitled to a part at least of the towage," persisted Mr. Armitage.
"I'm not taking it," declared Mr. Murgatroyd vehemently. "When I'm hard up I'll use the Olivette for profits—not before. The money's yours, Armitage; yours and the lads'. It'll help towards buying a vessel of your own."
Naturally the Sea Scouts were surprised and delighted when Mr. Armitage told them of the owner's generosity.
"We've been wondering why the skipper of the barge was so anxious to get a tow and pay for it. He might have had it for the asking," remarked Flemming.
"We're not assisting other criminals on their weary way, I hope," added Hepburn. It was soon evident that, although the barge was "light", she was a heavy barge to tow, and it became a question whether the Olivette would save her tide down to Gravesend.
The barge brought up off her destination just in time. The young flood was making over the malodorous mud-flats.
True to his compact, the skipper of the barge put off in his dinghy and, coming alongside the Olivette, handed over ten very greasy "Bradburys" with as much unconcern as if they had been pennies.
"You've done me a very good turn, guv'ner," he remarked. "Gives me a chance to ship cargo early to-morrow morning, an' ketch the flood up the river."
"Where can we bring up for the night?" asked Mr. Armitage.
"'Longside o' we," replied the skipper promptly. "No need to worrit yourselves about no ridin' light, an' 'tis easy to get under way come mornin'. You've tidy fenders, an' you won't come to no 'arm."
The offer was accepted. It cut both ways. It enabled the Olivette's crew to dispense with the task of anchoring, while, with the Scouts alongside, the skipper and the men of the barge could go ashore without risk of finding their boat plundered by waterside thieves.
The barge skipper was well satisfied. At an outlay of ten pounds for towage, he had made to the extent of fifty or sixty pounds in times when freightage was higher than it had ever been before.