"Olivette ahoy!" shouted Peter.
There was no reply save the mocking echoes of his voice from the opposite bank. He hailed again, giving the Patrol cry.
"The lazy blighters have turned in," he declared, and hailed for the third time.
"Where's her riding-lamp?" asked Alan. "I believe she's gone—broken adrift, or something."
Mr. Armitage already had his doubts on the subject. Bringing out his night-glasses, he focused them on the spot where the Olivette ought to have been moored. With difficulty he located the vacant buoy, to which was attached something low in the water and straining in the strong tide-way.
"The Olivette isn't there," he declared. "I don't think she's broken adrift, or the mooring-buoy would have gone with her. I hope Roche hasn't got into a panic about our late arrival and gone off in search of us."
"He couldn't expect to find us in the river, sir," remarked Woodleigh.
"S'pose not," admitted Mr. Armitage. "But to get down to rock-bottom facts, the Olivette's not on the moorings and we're benighted."
"Perhaps she was in a prohibited anchorage, sir," suggested Peter, "and the River Police have shifted her."
"No, I inquired if she would be all right there," replied the Scoutmaster. "She can't be very far away. Roche would have dropped the anchor when he found her adrift. Anyone too tired to join in the search? How about you, Mr. Boldrigg?"