With a sense of elation that he had dared and won through, Woodleigh gave the wheel half a turn. He was making for port, running the gauntlet of the bar, and confidence in the boat and in himself was half the battle.
"We're across the bar, Peter!" he exclaimed joyously, when the Olivette entered the sheltered waters of the Colne. "Now then, old son; turn out your merry wreckers and get the anchor cleared away. Warn Roche as you go; but don't disturb Mr. Armitage if you can help it."
The clearing away of the heavy anchor, and the securing of the forelock, was not accomplished in a moment, and, by the time all was in readiness for letting go, Woodleigh had "opened out" the little town of Brightlingsea, standing on the northern bank of the creek that derives its name from the busy yachting and fishing centre.
"Stop!" ordered Woodleigh, addressing the now alert Roche; then, raising his voice, he shouted: "Let go!"
The roar of the cable through the fair-leads announced that the voyage of the Olivette, as far as the Milford Sea Scouts were concerned, was an accomplished fact. It also had the effect of rousing the Scoutmaster from his slumbers.
The crew, having been "given the tip", watched the expression on Mr. Armitage's face with ill-concealed amusement.
"What have you anchored for?" he asked. "Where are we?"
"There, sir," replied Woodleigh triumphantly. "We're off Brightlingsea."