CHAPTER XIV
ON THE TRACK OF THE "PUFFIN"
At 10 p.m. Scoutmaster Grant and his seven Sea Scouts began their five-mile tramp to Sablesham. The rain was descending in torrents. Behind them were the sizzling embers of the Lydiard Scouts' camp-fire. The sing-song had been a tremendous success, and it was not until the guests had partaken of refreshment that the rain came on in earnest.
It took more than a torrential downpour to damp the spirits of the Sea Scouts. Their clothing was saturated. They had no oilskins with them. Water squelched in their shoes at every step. It was pitch-dark, and the road was almost ankle-deep in chalky mud. Yet they whistled blithely.
An hour and ten minutes later they were crossing the swing-bridge. From there it was impossible to see more than a couple of hundred yards. The furthermost of the gas lamps were blotted out in the watery atmosphere. "Nearly there!" exclaimed Mr. Grant. "Thank goodness we'll have a dry roof over our heads. Craddock will be wondering why we are late. I wonder if——"
He broke off abruptly.
The mast and riding-light of the Puffin ought by this time to be visible. They were not.
Mr. Grant said nothing. He hoped that his eyesight was playing him false, but he doubted it.
"She's gone, sir!" corroborated Brandon.
"Harbour master's shifted her, perhaps," suggested the Scoutmaster, quickening his pace.
The Puffin's berth was empty. There was her bow warp still made fast to a bollard. Hauling in the rope the Sea-Scouts made the discovery that it had parted—the frayed ends showing no sign of having been cut by a knife.
A further search revealed the sternfast. In this case the rope was intact, but at one end was a wooden cleat with screws attached.
"She's broken adrift," exclaimed the Patrol-leader. "What's the anchor doing?"
"We'll go to the pier-head and see if we can spot the yacht," said Mr. Grant. "Craddock must have heard the yacht parting her warps, even if he were asleep in the cabin. Perhaps he brought up round the corner."
But no. Seaward there was nothing but an ill-defined expanse of dark water and hissing rain.
"Back to the swing-bridge, lads!" exclaimed the Scoutmaster. "Keep a look-out in case the Puffin's alongside the opposite quay."
The bridge-keeper on being questioned was emphatic that no yacht had passed through, and that he had only once opened the bridge that night, to admit a Norwegian timber ship.
"Then there's only one thing to be done," declared Mr. Grant. "We'll have to find a boat and look for Craddock outside."
It was no easy matter to find a boat with oars in her. There were several small craft lying above the bridge, but in each case they were without gear—a fact that pointed silently to the weaknesses of a certain class of Sablesham longshoremen.
"We'll have to knock up one of the boatmen," decided Mr. Grant. "Come on, this way."
It was a long, tedious business. The bridge-keeper furnished the addresses of two or three men who let out boats. Finding them was no easy matter in the ill-lighted streets.
The first house they called at proved a blank. Either the occupier didn't or wouldn't hear the Scoutmaster's knock. At the second the owner opened an upper window and in husky accents bade his visitors, "Clear out, or I'll loose my dawg on yer!"
The third attempt proved successful, although it was quite twenty minutes before the boatman could be prevailed upon to dress and lead the way to the store where he kept his gear. Then the boat had to be baled out, for the heavy rain had filled it almost level with the thwarts, and a second visit had to be made to the store, since the rowlocks provided were too big for that particular craft.
The hour of midnight was striking as the Sea Scouts pushed off in their borrowed boat.
"Give way, lads," ordered Mr. Grant. "Nothing like a little exertion on a wet night."
Knowing the set of the tides, the Scoutmaster felt pretty hopeful that he could pick up the drifting yacht. He was still hoping that Craddock had paid out more chain and that the Puffin would be found brought up within a mile of the entrance to the harbour.
But when the boat gained the open sea Mr. Grant did not feel quite so optimistic. Even at a short distance the harbour lights looked dim. Seaward not a glimmer of any description was visible.
For the best part of forty minutes the Sea Scouts pulled steadily. The boat was heavy and beamy, but the lads by double banking three of the four oars, kept her going at a steady pace.
"We'll go back," decided Mr. Grant. "She doesn't appear to be anywhere this way. The rain's easing a bit. We may be able to see better presently."
"Light right astern, sir!" reported Brandon, almost as soon as the boat's head was turned in the direction of Sablesham.
Mr. Grant looked over his shoulder.
"Your eyesight's better than mine, Brandon," he remarked. "What sort of light?"
"White, sir."
Ten minutes later Brandon gave a whoop of joy.
"It's the Puffin, sir," he announced. "I know the bark of the motor."
No explanations were asked or given until the Puffin, with two boats towing astern, brought up in a secure berth in Sablesham Harbour.
There, in the cosy cabin, Scoutmaster and Sea Scouts crowded to hear the story of the Puffin's adventures.
"Here's my card, Mr. Grant," said the stranger. "Mr. Ulysses Paynton, of the firm of Paynton and Small, the underwriters of the s.s. Getalong. Apparently the bright youth took me for an undesirable acquaintance; but we've squared that up, haven't we, Craddock?"
"It was your revolver, sir, that confirmed my suspicions."
"Revolver?" inquired Mr. Paynton. "I haven't one."
Then he laughed whole-heartedly, and drew from his pocket a steel spanner.
"Had to make an adjustment to my car," he explained, "and absent-mindedly I put the spanner into my hip pocket. So that's that. But you'll be wondering why I called to see you, Mr. Grant. I motored down to Aberstour, and finding you were at Sablesham I came on here. That made me late. My firm wished to pay a slight acknowledgment to your Sea Scouts for the work in salving the s.s. Getalong, which, you will remember, was scuttled by her captain some time ago. Will you please accept this?"
"This" was a packet of Bank of England notes to the value of fifty pounds.