"We'll carry on," he decided. "As you say, it's a pity to waste this fine weather."
It was a tedious business waiting for the Rosalie to become water-borne. Slowly the incoming tide invaded the malodorous mud-flats until the wavelets slapped against the yacht's sides. Gradually she recovered from her slight list, and presently she swung to her hempen cable.
"Start her up, Dick," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Her props are clear of the mud now."
Roche and Flemming hurried below, and in less than five minutes a steady vibration and the regular cough of the two exhausts proclaimed the fact that the Rosalie was prepared to renew her acquaintance with the open sea.
There was now plenty of water in the intricate Ramsgate Channel, and the yacht made short work of the run to Dover.
"Take her inside the breakwater, Alan," said Mr. Armitage. "Here's the chart. That will give you an idea of what to expect."
"Why inside, sir?" asked Hepburn.
"Merely to give you fellows a chance to see what the harbour's like. Never throw away opportunities, Alan. In this case we go in by the eastern entrance and out by the western, so there's no need to put about and retrace our course."
All the crew were on deck as the Rosalie approached the massive granite wall backed by the lofty white cliffs of Dover. They had heard a lot about the Dover Patrol during the war, and were anxious to see the base of that efficient and hard-hitting force.
"What's that thing right ahead, sir?" asked Warkworth, as the yacht glided between the extremities of the breakwater.