"Broken water," declared the Scoutmaster, peering through the mist. "It's a tide-rip over the edge of the Gunfleet. We've missed the buoy, and if we carry on we'll pile ourselves up on the sand. Port helm, Stratton; that's right; keep her at that."
Mr. Armitage consulted the chart.
"See anything of a red lighthouse on piles, Woodleigh?" he asked. "It ought to be in that direction."
The Sea Scout looked in the direction indicated, but could distinguish nothing in the shape of a building.
"There's sand showing on our starboard beam, sir," he reported, as the mist temporarily dispersed. "I can hear a dog bark."
"So can I," agreed Mr. Armitage. "A dog on board a fishing-smack, most likely. See anything of a boat?"
"No, sir," replied the look-out.
The Scoutmaster levelled his glasses upon what looked to the naked eye like a short, weed-covered stump on the edge of the sands. The binoculars revealed it to be a dog sitting on its haunches and yelping and barking dolorously.
"How did it get there, I wonder?" asked Roche.
"Lighthouse-keeper's dog, perhaps," hazarded Stratton.