"I'll take her," said the Scoutmaster. "Watch, and then you can carry on through the next lock. There are thirty-two between here and Teddington, I believe, so by the time we've tackled a quarter of them we ought to be experts."
Even Mr. Armitage "had the wind up" as the Olivette approached the narrow lock, the upper gates of which were open. The current was running strongly over a weir to the left of the lock, the river being 2 feet above the normal summer level.
Allowing, as he thought, plenty of margin to counteract the rush of water over the weir, he gave the order for the crew to stand by with the fore and aft warps.
Slowly the Olivette approached the lock, until Mr. Armitage saw that she was being swept out of her course. Too late he put the helm to starboard. The boat's stern swung to port and her quarter crashed into a massive post with a shock that nearly threw the owner overboard.
The post saved her. A touch ahead with the propeller and the Olivette glided into the lock.
"That's how not to do it," commented the Scoutmaster. "Better luck next time!"
Released from the lock, the Olivette resumed her course past the leafy woods of Nuneham. Sandford Lock was negotiated without incident, and then Abingdon town hove in sight.
"Abingdon Bridge is, I believe, the lowest we have to encounter," observed Mr. Armitage, as the Olivette passed out of the lock that takes its name from the old-world town. "Stand by the reversing-lever, Roche. There's a tricky piece of work ahead."
It was. Almost before the Scouts were aware of it, the low arch of the bridge appeared to be advancing to meet them. It was narrow, too, and the turgid waters foamed noisily between the buttresses.
"By Jove! Will it clear us?" thought Mr. Armitage.