CHAPTER XVIII
Weatherbound
"Fall in, the ration party!" ordered Mr. Armitage briskly. "Because we are weather-bound it's no reason why we should be hungry, Coming ashore, Jackson?"
The dinghy was brought alongside, and the two Scoutmasters, Woodleigh, Warkworth, and Hepburn pushed off. They ran alongside the Olivette on the way up to the town.
"I hoped to find you here, Armitage," said Mr. Murgatroyd. "In fact I missed you by less than an hour at Ramsgate. Come aboard."
"We're replenishing a depleted grub locker," observed Mr. Armitage, "so we won't stop. We'll call for you on the way back if you'll care to have lunch on the Rosalie. You'll find your old crew. This is Mr. Jackson. No, he's not Rosalie's owner He's a friend assisting us on our way. Right-o; we'll be alongside at eleven."
With the dinghy laden with fresh beef, potatoes, cabbages, bread, and a variety of smaller commodities, the foraging-party rowed down the river and called for their guest. The two paid hands who formed the Olivette's crew declined the invitation to visit the Rosalie, and Mr. Armitage fancied that Mr. Murgatroyd looked relieved at their decision.
"Now tell us of your adventures," suggested the Scoutmaster, when Mr. Murgatroyd had inspected the internal arrangements of the yacht.
"There's not very much to tell," said the Olivette's owner. "I soon got fed up with the East Coast. Too many sand-banks to my liking. I believe the Olivette found a sand-bank at least three times on each occasion she got under way. So I decided to keep her in the Solent. It's merely a two hours' train journey from Waterloo to Southampton, and you're in sheltered water right away."
"The difficulty was a crew. I thought of telegraphing to you at Yarmouth, but I knew you would have your work cut out with the Rosalie. The men I engaged at Brightlingsea—good fellows they were, too—couldn't get away, as they had to go fishing later on in the month, so I got hold of the two brigands you saw on board. Goodness only knows where they hail from. They certainly aren't East Coast men. However, I managed to get going, made Ramsgate, and found that you had just left. Held on, looking into Folkestone, Newhaven, and Shoreham on the chance of finding you, and finally came on here in half a gale of wind. And," he added proudly, "I wasn't sea-sick. I feel like an old salt, although I know I've a lot to learn yet. Must get hold of some textbooks on navigation."
"Don't," interrupted Mr. Armitage earnestly. "If you do, you'll probably chuck it up as a bad job. Three-quarters of the stuff in books on coastal navigation isn't really necessary. It might be useful, but it's not essential."
"Then what is?" asked Mr. Murgatroyd.
"Common sense, resourcefulness, and an ability to read a chart," replied the Scoutmaster. "These, in my opinion, are the essentials, coupled with a nautical instinct. One must be born, not made, for the sea, you know."
"My innate nautical instinct seems to be developing rather late in life," declared Mr. Murgatroyd. "At any rate, I like it. Jolly sight better than hogging it in a motor. When are you leaving here?"
"As soon as the weather moderates," was the reply. "Judging by the present outlook, we might be weatherbound for a week."
"The Olivette will sail in company with you, then," said her owner, "unless my paid hands desert. I rather wish they would, because they are the bosses and I'm a sort of human petty-cash till."
"If they do leave you in the lurch," said Mr. Armitage, "I think we can manage to spare you three hands, enough to work the Olivette round to the Solent. Lunch ready, Woodleigh?"
It was a bounteous repast in spite of the deficiency of plates and dishes, for there had been heavy casualties in the pantry since the Rosalie left Yarmouth. Woodleigh, always a good cook, simply excelled himself, and Mr. Murgatroyd, drawing a comparison between the culinary arrangements on the Rosalie and the Olivette, felt decidedly envious.
At high water the harbour-master came alongside, and, having collected dues, suggested that the Rosalie should shift her berth.
"You'll be all right between those two buoys," he said. "You'll probably ground at low water, but the mud's soft, so you won't heel there."
For the next three days it blew hard. The Sea Scouts endured the forced detention with fortitude, but whenever they landed and walked to the pier-head the aspect of the English Channel rather made them wonder whether it was going to be rough for weeks. As far as the eye could see, there were tumultuous, white-crested waves.
On Saturday morning Stratton saw Mr. Murgatroyd making violent gesticulations from the deck of the Olivette. Promptly the yacht's dinghy put off to find out the reason of the unorthodox semaphoring display. The owner of the Olivette was excited and jubilant.
"They've deserted," he announced. "The scoundrels were paid on Friday night, and this morning they were missing. A waterman probably landed them."
"Perhaps they'll roll up again," suggested Mr. Armitage.
"Not they," declared Mr. Murgatroyd with conviction. "They've taken their gear. No, I don't want them back. Armitage, I accept your offer. Lend me Roche, Warkworth, and Hepburn, and I'll be eternally indebted to you."
The three Sea Scouts mentioned by name readily fell in with the arrangement, and their kit was transferred to the Olivette.
"I have a proposal to make," began Mr. Murgatroyd when, later on in the day, he paid a visit to the Rosalie. "You may think it downright cheek, Armitage, and you may turn it down if you want to."
"Fire away, then," prompted the Scoutmaster.
"Your head-quarters are on the Solent, aren't they?"
"Not quite. There's a creek where we keep our sailing-boat—Keyhaven it's called—about a mile or so from Milford. That opens into the Solent."
"Enough water for the Olivette?" continued Mr. Murgatroyd.
"Plenty inside, but she wouldn't be able to get out at low-water springs," replied Mr. Armitage.
"Look here," said the Olivette's owner, after making inquiries as to which was the nearest railway station. "This is my scheme: Suppose I keep the Olivette at Keyhaven, will your Sea Scouts look after her? Take me for trips when I can run down? If so, you can use her whenever you want, whether I'm there or not. Virtually I remain the owner, but in practice she's yours."
"Quite a good scheme, from our point of view," replied Mr. Armitage. "In fact, it looks rather like sponging on you. We hardly——"
"Rot!" interrupted Mr. Murgatroyd. "It's a quid pro quo arrangement. I save both money and worry by it. Say the word, and she's ready for you when you've handed over the Rosalie."
"Well, boys," said the Scoutmaster, "shall we accept Mr. Murgatroyd's offer, and signify our appreciation in the usual manner?"
The Rosalie's cabin resounded to three lusty cheers. Mr. Murgatroyd, beaming with delight, protested unavailingly against the display of boyish exuberance.
"That's settled, then," he said. "In future the Olivette is the Milford Sea Scouts' craft."
Towards evening the rain ceased and the wind decreased considerably, flying off the land. With a rising barometer in conjunction with a rising thermometer, there were indications that the weather was improving, and that the Rosalie's enforced detention at Littlehampton was merely a matter of a few more hours.
"Jolly good thing we are weatherbound," declared Flemming. "We've struck good luck here. Fancy having the use of the Olivette. Sounds too good to be true. Pinch me, Peter, to see if I'm awake. O—oh! Not so hard, you silly owl!"