CHAPTER XXI
THE MISSING BIRDS
Left to themselves and with the big sheepdog as an entertaining companion, Craddock and Carline settled down to their new task. It was a decidedly novel experience to be "on their own" on a yacht in entirely strange surroundings.
After breakfast on the following morning, Peter went shopping, accompanied by Rex, who had accepted the Sea Scout as his temporary master without any apparent hesitation. According to his wont the big sheep-dog trotted on ahead, occasionally giving a backward glance to reassure himself that Peter was following.
Presently Rex turned the corner leading into the High Street. Twenty seconds later Peter followed, and nearly tripped over the prostrate form of Mr. Horatio Snodburry, who was reclining ungracefully on the pavement with a wretched-looking black dog hugged under one arm, while his right hand grasped a long cane.
Without hesitation Craddock assisted the man to his feet. Snodburry, giving Peter a vindictive look, muttering something uncomplimentary about boys in general and Scouts in particular, hobbled away.
"Dashed if I would have helped the old blighter up," exclaimed one of the shopkeepers. "He thinks he's the only fellow in Ravensholm who owns a dog. Your animal was passing along as quietly as a lamb when——"
"I thought, perhaps, that Rex tripped him up accidently," interrupted Peter.
"Not a bit of it," was the rejoinder. "He treats every dog the same either lashes out with his stick or hacks at it. Only this time he must have tried to kick with both feet at once and he 'bumped, bumped, bumped just a little bit,' as the song goes. But there, I'd best not say too much; Old Snodburry's a good customer of mine, but you'll find out quite enough what he's like if you stay here."
"I have already, thanks," replied Peter. "He's rather interesting."
The same afternoon Carline went out in the dinghy, pulling up-stream for nearly a mile above the bridge and drifting down with the strong ebb tide.
Just as he was abreast of Mr. Snodburry's grounds, his attention was attracted by a man running along the shore just below high water mark and waving his hands above his head.
In front of the man were five or six ducks, quacking with fright. Driving the birds into an unfenced meadow the man was joined by another, and the pair herded the ducks into Mr. Snodburry's garden.
Carline ran the dinghy alongside the Thetis, made fast and went below, thinking no more about the apparently trivial incident of the ducks.
Two days passed uneventfully, except that Mr. Snodburry paid periodical visits to the river front to gaze banefully at the Thetis and to regret that the prevailing wind rendered "gas attack" impossible.
Then one afternoon Farmer Thorley passed along the bank.
"I'm a bit put out," he replied to the Sea Scouts' salutation. "Yesterday I missed five of my ducks, and this morning I gets a message from that Snodburry fellow saying that they've been trespassing and that he's locked them up. I went to see him and he says, 'Farmer, you'll have to pay me a sovereign for damage before you get those ducks back.' 'A sovereign,' says I. 'That's a bit thick, isn't it? What damage could they do to the extent of a pound?' But I offers him a shilling a head, which he wouldn't take, and tells me to think it over and let him know. And geese and ducks from the farm have been free to run the river ever since I was a lad, an' in my father's time afore me."
"Supposing some of your sheep were grazing in that field, Mr. Thorley," said Carline, "and I drove one on to this gangway and then on board the Thetis. Then, if I shut the hatch and sent to you to say that you could have your sheep if you paid me a pound, what would you do?"
The farmer looked curiously at the Sea Scout.
"Why," he replied, "I'd have the law on you for sheep-stealing."
"That's what has happened to your ducks, anyway," declared Carline, and proceeded to relate what he had seen.
"Dang me!" ejaculated Mr. Thorley, slapping his thigh. "That puts a different face to the matter. Thank you, lad, I'm off to the police station."
The farmer hurried off. He was back in about an hour, his face beaming.
"I saw the superintendent," he reported. "Super told me that if I could get hold of 'em ducks without doing any damage to Old Snodburry's property I'd best do so. Just to make sure I called on Lawyer Tebbutt, and he said much the same. And as luck would have it spied Old Snodburry driving to railway station, so he's out of the way for some time, thank goodness! Will you lads do me another Good Turn?"
"Rather," replied both Sea Scouts. "What do you want us to do?"
"I'll just run round to the market and borrow a poultry crate," continued Mr. Thorley. "Then if you young gents will put me across the river in your little boat I think I can get my five ducks back and save the shilling a head I offered him. I'd get my man Andrew to bear a hand only he's away over Nine Acre field, and Tom 'e's gone to Fleyton with the milk."
"We'll be glad to go with you," volunteered Peter.
"Good lads!" ejaculated the farmer. "I'll go up along and fetch the crate."
A few minutes later the dinghy, deeply laden with a big farmer, two hefty Sea Scouts and a spacious poultry coop, gained the opposite bank.
Boldly the trio crossed the meadow. The gate of the enclosed garden was ajar, a massive padlock with the key in it, dangling from a stout chain.
Mr. Horatio Snodburry's two minions came out, but, evidently under the impression that the farmer had "squared up" with their employer, made no objection. In fact they assisted in putting the debatable ducks into the crate.
In triumph, Farmer Thorley bore off his own property, Craddock and Carline rowing him down to the farm.
When the Sea Scouts returned to the Thetis, there was a small crowd on the bank.
"Fat's in the fire," exclaimed one of the onlookers. "Old Snodburry's gone to the police station."