CHAPTER X
Alan Speaks French
Sunrise—a grey sky and a high dawn; long drab-coloured rollers driven on by the steady westerly wind; away to the south'ard a line of dark-grey cliffs, hardly distinguishable from the sombre hues of sea and sky. This was the first impression of the French coast upon the minds of the Sea Scouts of the Olivette.
Here and there the coastwise lights were vainly endeavouring to hold their own against the steadily increasing dawn. The powerful beams from the lighthouses of Cape de la Hogue and Cape Levi had already been extinguished, but from the Digue and the high ground above the town of Cherbourg there were still faint pinpricks of luminosity.
Away to the east'ard a couple of tramps were ploughing against the strong ebb, making apparently for Havre. Between the Olivette and the shore were about twenty fishing-boats, their dark-tanned sails close-hauled to the breeze as they raced homewards with the fruits of their night's toil.
"We haven't made a bad passage, sir," remarked Stratton as he came on deck.
"We're not there yet, Peter," replied Mr. Armitage. "We've hit a pretty hot ebb tide, and it's sweeping us to the west'ard. I'm afraid we won't do much till the young flood sets in."
"How fast is the tide running, sir?" asked the Patrol Leader.
"A good six knots, I imagine," was the reply. "Six knots broad on our port beam, and we're doing about eight. We'll be in luck if we're inside the breakwater by six o'clock. It's now eight minutes to four."
"Hello, Mr. Boldrigg!" exclaimed Peter, as the old seaman stumped aft, swinging his arms. "You've had a long trick."