"Do not make ze tarry, monsieur," he said to Mr. Armitage. "Ze weather it looks not nice. By dark, it blow ver' 'ard."
"Let's hope he's wrong for once," thought the Scoutmaster. "All the same, the glass is falling, so the sooner we get into sheltered water the better."
He glanced to wind'ard. The sky was of a deep blue, without a cloud being visible. The breeze blew strongly from the south'ard. It was a favourable wind for Old England's shores.
He waved his hand in acknowledgment of the pilot's warning.
"Let her rip, Flemming," he ordered. "Full speed ahead."
It was a far different passage from the Olivette's previous crossing. Even when clear of the land, the waves were short and steep as the weather-going tide met the breeze obliquely. In spite of the extra ballast, the boat rolled and pitched until her foredeck was swept by the white-crested waves, and water poured at intervals over her quarter. But, protected by the high coaming surrounding the well, the crew kept fairly comfortable. They had to wear oilskins to keep themselves dry, for the spindrift was flying inboard. Every movable article, both on deck and below, had to be lashed down, and it was soon apparent that, until they were in smoother water, the Sea Scouts would have to go without hot meals.
About four o'clock the wind dropped considerably. The Olivette was now out of sight of land, and, with the exception of an old wind-jammer running full-and-by up-Channel, not another vessel was in sight.
"Make some tea while you have a chance, Woodleigh," suggested Mr. Armitage. "This lull is only temporary, I fancy."
To the west'ard inky-coloured clouds were appearing above the horizon. The southerly breeze was on the point of veering to the west'ard or sou'west'ard, and when it came it would, in all probability, come with considerable force.
"We may get in before it comes on hard," soliloquized the Scoutmaster. "It's no joke being caught out; but we'll have to make the best of it."