"One of the Weymouth fellows says we have overrun Lulworth, sir," he reported.
"'Fraid you have," agreed Mr. Armitage. "It's over there."
He pointed over the port quarter to what appeared to be a small rift in the cliffs.
"That's Lulworth, Peter," he added.
"Why, sir," exclaimed the astonished Patrol Leader, "it's so small we couldn't possibly take the Olivette in there."
"You are not the first to make that remark," observed the Weymouth Scoutmaster. "Many yachtsmen have mistaken Mupe Bay and Worbarrow Bay for Lulworth Cove. The coastguard look-out hut on the western cliff is the best mark to distinguish it."
Meanwhile Alan had put the helm hard-a-starboard, "meeting" it when the boat's head pointed towards the entrance.
As the distance decreased, the real magnitude of the entrance became apparent. In reality, instead of being only twenty yards in width, as Peter had imagined, it was more than four times that distance. On either hand the cliffs rose sheer, with a heavy ground-swell lashing the base of the rocks.
"Keep a bit more over to the eastern side," cautioned Mr. Armitage. "Right—at that. There's plenty of water."
"Hadn't we better clear away the anchor, sir?" asked Stratton.