The landlord rose to the occasion. The sight of a couple of grown Englishmen and four English Sea Scouts provoked no comment. In five minutes the hungry search-party were sitting down to hot coffee and biscuits, a long roll, and plenty of fresh Normandy butter.
"That is our affair, monsieur," protested one of the students when Mr. Armitage offered to pay for the refreshment. "When I was a poilu of the 141st Regiment we were once on the left of an English battalion. We were hungry and they were well fed—merely a matter of commissariat, monsieur—and when they found out we were famished, half their rations were passed into our trench. Monsieur has served, of course?"
Greatly refreshed, the Sea Scouts bade their hospitable hosts farewell, and set out to retrace their way back to Duclair.
"Guess we know the way by this time," remarked Peter. "Three times in one night is about the limit. Do we turn out at seven to-morrow—or rather, to-day, sir?"
"We're not on board yet, Peter," rejoined the Scoutmaster. "But I think I'm safe in saying that we'll keep to our hammocks till noon."
But Mr. Armitage's surmise was out, absolutely out. Grey dawn was showing in the north-eastern sky when the footsore party arrived on the quay at Duclair. There in the dim light was the Olivette riding to the flood-tide. In the stillness of the early morning could be heard the regular pulsations of the hand-pump, while at intervals one of her crew—it was not light enough to distinguish who it was—was toppling pailfuls of water over the side.
"Olivette, ahoy!"
This time the hail was answered promptly. Out of the deep, open well clambered Roche and Flemming slowly and laboriously, for they were pretty well done up with their night of strenuous toil.
"They seem in no hurry to come for us," observed Warkworth, "after we've trudged all the blessed night."
"Ahoy, there!" shouted Roche. "Can you find someone to put you off? We've no dinghy."