"No, indeed," agreed his companion. "There would be one consolation—we wouldn't know anything about it. However, the North Sea is wide, so we can but trust in Providence."
"What do you make of the weather?" asked Mr. Jackson.
Mr. Armitage glanced aloft. In the twilight the dark clouds were not scudding so rapidly as they had done earlier in the day.
"Change of wind, I fancy," he replied. "Glass is rising slowly. One hardly knows what to make of the weather nowadays, and the forecasts in the paper are generally hopelessly wrong. Well, shall we turn in? If there's any chance of making a passage to-morrow, we'll start."
At 5 a.m. all hands turned out, bathed, and had breakfast. It was still blowing fairly fresh, but the wind had veered through west and was now practically nor'-west.
"Off-shore wind," observed the Scoutmaster. "We'll be all right as far as Harwich, so get busy."
The Sea Scouts needed no second bidding. Roche and Flemming, donning overalls, dived below to the engine-room. The others, assisted by Mr. Jackson, set to work to lower the masts to allow the Rosalie to pass under the bridge.
Precisely at eight o'clock the Red Ensign was hoisted, the warps cast off, and the yacht, under power, started on her long voyage.
By the time she had taken to traverse the long stretch of river that enters the North Sea at Gorleston, Peter Stratton had made himself acquainted with Rosalie's steering capabilities, in spite of the fact that navigation was rather complicated owing to the number of fishing-boats under way in the narrow channel.
"Look out for the tide setting across the pierheads," cautioned the Scoutmaster.