"He's just coming, sir," replied Flemming. "There he is, walking along the tow-path."
It was 5 a.m.—or four o'clock by Greenwich time. The sun had not yet risen, although it was quite light. An early morning start was desirable, and since Mr. Murgatroyd did not wish unduly to inconvenience the hotel staff, he arranged to have breakfast on board.
"Good morning, everyone!" he exclaimed. "Bless my soul! What a delicious breakfast. Who's the cook? My hunger will astonish you."
He sniffed the air appreciatively.
"Do you know that this is the first time for twenty years that I've seen the sun rise," he continued. "I feel like kicking myself for having wasted my opportunities. Now, then, let's see who's the best trencherman."
Directly breakfast was finished Warkworth was told off to wash up, while the rest of the crew set to work to get under way. Mr. Armitage, undaunted by the previous day's events, had sufficient faith in Alan Hepburn to place him at the wheel.
"You know what that awkward bend is like, Alan," he remarked. "That's half the battle. Carry on."
Hepburn felt decidedly "bucked". He realized that the stranding of the Olivette had not gone against him in his Scoutmaster's opinion. He had been given an unqualified chance of again tackling what was admittedly a difficult bit of navigation, taking into consideration the length and general unhandiness of the boat when running under considerably reduced power.
That notwithstanding, Alan found himself approaching the scene of the grounding with a sense of suppressed excitement. He wasn't exactly nervous, but he vaguely wondered whether he would be able to do the trick this time.
Mr. Armitage noted with silent approval that the young helmsman was hugging the right bank. That gave him a better turning circle when the critical moment arrived to starboard helm.