"We'll have to rig up another, Peter," shouted Mr. Armitage. "A stout spar, a hammock, and a piece of ballast will do the trick. Be sharp. She won't stand many of these breakers."
A hissing, white-crested wave, pouring completely over the boat, confirmed the Scoutmaster's words. Below, the Sea Scouts were plying the semi-rotary pump, but their strenuous efforts failed to cope with the steady inrush of water. Already there was a foot or more swirling over the engine-room floor, to the detriment of the task of clearing the choked carburetter.
As he went below to look out the materials for the improvised sea-anchor, Mr. Armitage was confronted by old Tom Boldrigg.
"Try ile, sir," suggested the ex-sailor. "Ile's an excellent thing for quietin' the waves. I'll see to that, sir, if you wish——"
"Carry on, please," replied Mr. Armitage. "We're rigging up a temporary sea-anchor."
Without another word Boldrigg went about his task. His canvas kit-bag served the purpose, and he sacrificed it to the common weal, although it had been his companion for years of service afloat.
Filling the water-tight bag with heavy lubricating oil, Tom secured the mouth tightly and bent a stout line to it. Then with the marlinespike of his knife he pricked half a dozen holes in the canvas.
"Belay, there, lads!" he shouted, handing the rope to some of the Sea Scouts and heaving the bag over the side to windward.
Although the bag offered very little resistance, the fact that the Olivette was drifting rapidly to lee'ard enabled the canvas sack to run out to the full extent of the rope. The oil leaking through the small holes soon began to take effect. A triangular patch of comparatively smooth oil-covered water, with its apex at the sack and its base far to lee'ard of the boat, had the almost instantaneous result of keeping down the crested waves. The Olivette, rolling still, was no longer in peril, for not a cupful of spray came inboard.
"How long will that last?" inquired Mr. Armitage.