At nine o'clock the Rosalie, with the Olivette following sedately in her wake, passed between the pier-heads of Littlehampton Harbour, bound west.
Standing seaward for a mile, in order to clear the shoal patches off that part of the Sussex shore, both boats then ported helm and steered for the as yet invisible Selsea Bill.
All hands, including Bruin, were basking on the deck of the Rosalie; while, glancing astern, they could see the owner and two of the crew of the Olivette perched upon the latter craft's cabin top.
At intervals the Sea Scouts on the two boats would exchange semaphore messages. These were mostly of a frivolous nature, but they served to keep the boys in practice. Mr. Armitage rather prided himself upon the signalling capabilities of his troop. He had taught them to receive messages before being able to send them, which is more than half the battle in learning both Morse and semaphore. He knew from experience that in the majority of cases a learner who is taught to send before being able to receive rarely becomes a smart signalman—and he acted accordingly.
"Keep a sharp look-out, lads," said the Scoutmaster, as the low-lying Selsea Bill appeared in view. "See who'll be the first to spot the Mixon—a tall pile with a barrel on top of it. It should be a point on our starboard bow."
Actuated by the spirit of competition, the Sea Scouts clustered in the wake of the wheel-house scanning the distant shore; but for a considerable time their efforts to locate the important sea-mark were without success.
"Hope the beacon hasn't been washed away," said Mr. Armitage. "Unless we sight it we'll have a difficulty to find our way through the Looe Stream. It's narrow, with submerged rocks on both sides, and generally a nasty tide-rip to complicate matters."
"Fortunately we are not entirely dependent upon sails, nor have we to beat through," remarked Mr. Jackson.
"That's true," agreed Mr. Armitage, "but, in a way, I'm sorry. The introduction of marine motors has practically killed seamanship in yachts. Nowadays when a fellow encounters a foul tide, what does he do? In nine cases out of ten he starts the engine. Come along, lads, haven't you spotted the beacon yet?"
"What's that over there, sir?" asked Flemming, pointing to an indistinct object a good two points off the port bow.