The breakfast things having been washed up and stowed away, the Sea Scouts set to work to scrub decks and make the Olivette look a credit to them. By the time this task was accomplished the gates of the Bassin-à-Flot were opened. In four hours the Olivette had been lifted vertically through a height of eighteen feet by the rising tide.
"You see now why I want to try and bring the boat into the floating-dock," observed Mr. Armitage. "If we remained in the tidal harbour we would have to be continually altering the scope of the warps as the level of the water changed. Here we are relieved of that trouble and responsibility, and there is no necessity to have to ascend and descend the long ladder to get ashore or on board at low water."
The Olivette safely moored, the Sea Scouts prepared for a ramble ashore, to see the sights of the town. Flemming was not one of the party, having been told off to act as ship-keeper; while old Tom Boldrigg was making up for his prolonged trick as look-out man by sleeping soundly on one of the locker seats in the well.
While his comrades were seeing the sights, Eric Flemming had by no means a dull time. It quickly dawned upon him that the many advantages of the Bassin-à-Flot were outdone by the obvious disadvantages of the place. The hot sun pouring down upon the enclosed space of water was too strong to be pleasant, especially when the heat caused the garbage floating upon the surface to emit most unpleasant odours.
It was Flemming's first experience of a "wet" dock, and before very long he sincerely hoped it might prove his last.
After a while Eric went below to escape the glare. He had not been in the cabin more than five minutes before a dull thud sounded on the deck over his head. Then came another thud, followed by others in quick succession, until Flemming realized that the Olivette was being bombarded.
Putting on his cap, the lad gained the well. Almost as soon as he stepped outside the cabin door a missile hit him on the head. Fortunately the thick sailor's cap with its white cap-cover mitigated the blow, but even then it was sufficient to make the lad wince.
He quickly took in the situation. Ten or twelve ragged gamins were gathered on the edge of the quay, engaged in the pleasant and congenial task of hurling stones and cabbage-stalks upon the Olivette's deck and raised cabin-top.
"Alles-vous-en!" shouted Flemming. The boys retreated a few steps, but seeing that the Sea Scout made no attempt to follow up his advantage, they held their ground, jeering and redoubling their fire.
Eric hardly knew what course to pursue. It was not good form to start scrapping on foreign soil. A jolly sound hiding, he reflected, would do the gamins a world of good, but there were the after results to be taken into consideration. If each of the aggressors went away and returned with two or three pals, the Olivette would hardly be tenable under a terrific fusillade of stones and garbage. On the other hand, he could not allow the boat to be made into a sort of maritime Aunt Sally for the edification of a crowd of juvenile ruffians.