"Then," added Peter, with fierce determination, "we'll go after her in the dinghy."
"Dinghy's gone too," declared Flemming. "Two men collared her. I followed the track of her keel-band; two men with rubber boots, size tens, with lozenge-pattern-stamped soles."
Just then Alan and Rayburn joined the others, while down the road old Boldrigg could be seen moving at a smart pace.
"Mr. Boldrigg," hailed Peter, "may we borrow your boat?"
"Sure, certain," shouted the old seaman. "Take her. What be you goin' to do?"
"Stand in pursuit," explained the Patrol Leader, when Boldrigg, breathless with his exertions, gained the shore. "They've only enough petrol for an hour's run. If they stop in mid-Solent, the west-going tide will sweep them back, and we'll nab them."
"Then I'll come along with you," declared Boldrigg. "There's an old fowling-piece in the boat, and though it ain't a 12-pounder Q.F., I'll guess 'twill make those blokes think twice if we gets within range. All the gear's aboard, Master Peter. The lot of us'll manage to launch her down the beach."
The Mudlark was a decrepit old tub. Tom Boldrigg, although he had been pensioned for a good number of years, had not arrived at that stage when "there shall be no more sea". The boat was a centre-board, flat-floored craft about twenty feet in length, decked in for'ard and with a "fish-tray" aft. She was a suitable craft for running over the flats and working the small unbeaconed creeks on the Hampshire shore; but only in fine weather was she fit for the strong tides of the Solent.
Willing hands hauled the Mudlark down the beach. The mast was stepped and the tan sprit-sail set. Into the boat crowded the six Sea Scouts, with old Boldrigg at the helm. The Tenderfoot was left behind. The fact that none of the crew had had breakfast passed unnoticed in the excitement, but would be realized later, as would also the mistake of omitting to provision and water the little craft.
"We'll keep well over agen the flats," said Tom. "There'll be a mort less o' tide. You say there ain't but an hour's supply of oil aboard? Well, at seven or eight knots she won't be as far up along as Cowes, and now she's got a foul tide. We'll sight her in a couple of hours, Master Peter."