The boys complied with the utmost enthusiasm, the owner of the Olivette waving another scarf in reply. Then, losing way under the reverse action of her propeller, the new arrival made fast to a buoy about fifty yards higher up stream than the still-stranded Rosalie.
"Seems rather a shame to be found in this position," declared Hepburn. "Mr. Murgatroyd will think we're everything but a posh lot of navigators."
"She must have had a dusting outside," said the Scoutmaster. "We'll go alongside directly we're afloat. Now, lads, water's lapping over the lee gunwale. Heave away on the capstan and haul away with the luff-tackle."
For ten minutes it was touch and go whether the water would swamp the yacht before she lifted. The level of the rising tide was within a couple of inches of the cockpit coaming when the Rosalie shook herself clear of her muddy bed. With a weird gurgling noise as the tremendous suctional powers of the ooze were overcome, the yacht recovered herself, and in a few minutes was on an even keel.
"Thanks be!" ejaculated Mr. Armitage fervently as he wiped the moisture from his face. "We'll shift our berth at high water. No more of these tricks for us."
CHAPTER XVIII
Weatherbound
"Fall in, the ration party!" ordered Mr. Armitage briskly. "Because we are weather-bound it's no reason why we should be hungry, Coming ashore, Jackson?"
The dinghy was brought alongside, and the two Scoutmasters, Woodleigh, Warkworth, and Hepburn pushed off. They ran alongside the Olivette on the way up to the town.