"I can hang on a bit longer, sir," declared Stratton. "One of us ought to remain on deck to warn any boat that might foul our hawser. I'll keep watch."
For about five minutes the Patrol-leader paced the deck. It was a ticklish task owing to the vessel's list, so presently he sat down. Below, his companions were talking briskly to the accompaniment of the rattle of spoons, and cups and saucers.
Peter was thinking hard. It was ignominious, he decided, to run aground and stop there until outside help arrived.
"I wonder if I shifted the lead of that rope?" he soliloquized. "Better still, bend the smaller Manila to the grass-rope, and run it through the for'ard fair-lead. I'll try it, and the others can bear a hand after tea."
He set to work on the lines he had suggested, then, merely as an experiment, he began heaving taut on the winch. How it happened he could never explain. The engine wasn't running, yet directly the rope took the strain the Olivette glided easily from her prison.
"We're afloat, sir!" shouted Stratton gleefully.
The tea-party broke up hurriedly. Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh, rushed to restart the motor. The others scrambled on deck, except Mr. Armitage, who made for the wheel-house.
He was just in time to put the helm hard over, otherwise the boat would have bumped broadside on to the opposite bank, held as she was by the grass-warp.
Aided by the engine going slowly ahead, the Sea Scouts hauled in and coiled away the grass-warp until all but 30 feet was inboard. The difficulty that confronted them was how to cast off the end from the tree trunk. Even by running the boat's bows gently aground there was too wide a space of water to leap over.
"We don't want to cut the rope," said the Patrol-leader tentatively. "Now then, you budding Blondins; who's going to walk the tight-rope?"