The pilot came on board just before seven o'clock. He was a short, bow-legged, elderly man, differing very little in appearance from the seafaring fraternity on the other side of the Channel, except that his knowledge of English was rather meagre.
Peter Stratton was at the helm, the pilot standing beside him.
All went well for the first ten minutes or so, then a brigantine in tow of a tug appeared in sight round a bend abreast of the village of Villequier.
"Tribord tout!" ordered the pilot.
Peter, considerably astonished to receive the order, for he was aware that "tribord" was the equivalent for "starboard", promptly starboarded his helm.
The little Frenchman danced with excitement.
"Tribord tout!" he reiterated.
The Patrol Leader gave the boat still more starboard helm. At that moment the tug blew a single blast with her steam whistle.
The pilot, abandoning his post, ran on deck gesticulating frantically at the tug. Peter, left to his own devices, and knowing that if he attempted to port helm now there would almost inevitably be a disastrous collision, kept her helm hard over until the Olivette had starboarded sixteen points and her bows were pointing in exactly the opposite direction to her former course.
Then he ordered the motor to stop, and awaited the pilot's return.