A Find on the Gunfleet
The Scoutmaster's prognostics of a fine day were justified. Up at dawn, the crew of the Rosalie found the sky was cloudless; not a ripple disturbed the harbour, while the smoke from a couple of destroyers getting up steam rose almost vertically in the still air.
The only fly in the ointment was what would be termed in Admiralty communiqués "low visibility". Without being actually foggy, the weather was hazy, so that from the Felixstowe side, where the Rosalie lay, it was only just possible to discern the outlines of the town and dockyard of Harwich.
"Morning mists," remarked optimist Roche. "It'll clear when the sun's up properly."
"Let's hope so," added Mr. Armitage.
He had no great desire to grope his way across the Thames estuary in thick weather, trusting to the aid of a compass to thread his course between the numerous sand-banks. The Rosalie's compass did not possess a deviation-card, and one or two bearings that the Scoutmaster had already taken showed an error of from half to one and a half points.
"Starboard's duty watch," observed Mr. Armitage, when the yacht had drawn clear of the basin. "Stratton, you take the helm. How's the tide?"
"One hour's flood, sir," replied the Patrol-leader promptly.
"Right-o! that will give us a chance to cut across most of the banks," continued the Scoutmaster. "Keep her sou' by east; I'm trying to make the N.E. Gunfleet buoy."
Clear of Harwich harbour, the Rosalie settled down on the given compass-course. Even in the open sea the water was as smooth as glass, but the mist showed no tendency to disperse. If anything, it grew thicker, patches of vapour drifting slowly over the placid surface, rendering the range of visibility a matter of anything from a quarter to two miles.