"Surely we haven't got to Pangbourne Lock already," remarked the Scoutmaster. "What is it, Peter?" he inquired raising his voice.
"Launch broken down, sir," replied the Patrol-leader. "They're asking for assistance."
Even as he spoke, the Olivette bumped on the bottom of the river, listed heavily to starboard, sending an avalanche of plates, dishes, and cups upon the floor of the cockpit. Still carrying way, she grated over the obstruction into deeper water.
At the shock, Mr Armitage clambered up the iron ladder and looked around. It was no fault on the part of Stratton that the boat had grounded. She was almost exactly in the middle of the river, and had hit upon a submerged bank that had evidently been formed during the recent floods.
"Good job our propeller is above the keel line," declared the Scoutmaster. "Apparently those fellows have bumped, but with disastrous results."
He indicated a 35- or 40-foot launch, drifting broadside on at a distance of 80 yards from the Olivette. Over her port quarter ran a rope stretched as taut as an iron bar.
"Hi, gov'ner!" shouted the coxswain of the launch. "Kin yer give us er tow as far as Readin'?"
"What's wrong?" asked Mr. Armitage.
"Hit summat fust goin' orf an' then our line got rahnd the screw. Proper lash-up, that's wot it is."
"Right-o," agreed the Scoutmaster. "We'll give you a pluck as far as Reading."