The Milford Sea Scouts had been in existence only since the war. Under the scoutmastership of Mr. Armitage—late lieutenant R.N.V.R.—eight promising and undoubtedly keen youths were being grounded in the principles of seamanship and coastal navigation. The troop laboured under great disadvantages, but, as Dick Roche the optimist remarked, overcoming difficulties is often the best part of the game.
For one thing, Milford, although on the sea, possesses what is known as an open beach, and is unsuited for boating. For another, the lads had great difficulty in obtaining a boat of any description, owing to lack of funds and the scarcity of craft of all sorts. But within a few months of the founding of the troop the Sea Scouts raised the wind sufficiently to become the proud owners of an ex-naval gig, which by the aid of paint and varnish was made to look quite smart and shipshape.
The beach being unsuitable, they kept their boat at Keyhaven, a small creek a mile or so from Milford, which had the advantage of opening into the comparatively sheltered waters of the Solent.
Here they learnt to respect the furious tides that surge through Hurst Channel, to avoid the mudbanks that fringe the Hampshire shore, and to navigate their somewhat unhandy craft under sail into the intricate creeks and harbours of the Isle of Wight between Ryde and the old-world town of Yarmouth.
Their varied experiences only whetted their appetite for bigger things afloat, and the Scouts' ambition was centred upon the acquisition of a real yacht with cabin accommodation, so that they would be able to make extended cruises during the holidays.
Unfortunately, summer found them still short of their cherished goal. Old yachts, that in pre-war days might have been picked up for a few pounds, increased in value by leaps and bounds; and even the more sanguine of the troop had to admit that for the present it looked as if they would have to be content with their gig.
"Getting up entertainments seems a toshy way of raising funds," remarked Peter Stratton. "We give rotten shows. We can't act for nuts. People buy tickets because they are good-natured. They must know what they are in for when they hear I'm going to recite, or that Flemming and Woodleigh are billed to render a duet."
"Quite," agreed Dick Roche. "Pity we can't do something seamanlike. A bit of salvage, for instance."
He looked wistfully across the open sea, picturing in his mind's eye a vessel in distress requiring immediate assistance from the Milford Sea Scouts. Roche was of Cornish descent. His ancestors were probably wreckers and smugglers, and that possibly accounted for his yearning for a salvage job.
"Not much chance of that," said Reggie Warkworth. "The Totland Bay lifeboatmen are always ready for that sort of work, and there are always pilots knocking around in the Needles Channel."