"I wish we had a motor," said Findlay, breathlessly, as he wiped the perspiration from his forehead.
"Well, we haven't," rejoined Hayes, "and we aren't likely to have one yet awhile. We're jolly lucky to get the yacht as she is."
"Then come and do a bit with the sweeps," was Findlay's pointed invitation.
Before Hayes could "take on", Desmond exclaimed:
"Stand by! There's a breeze ahead!"
The next instant the Spindrift heeled to a free puff. Gathering way she quickly glided up the channel, rounding to and dropping anchor within half a cable's length of Padstow Quay.
After everything was made snug, the dinghy was manned and the three Sea Scouts set out for the shore, Mr. Graham volunteering to keep anchor-watch in their absence.
Close to the Spindrift was a "sixteen-footer", in the stern sheets of which knelt a very red-faced man, struggling with a refractory outboard engine. Through sheer exhaustion he desisted as the Sea Scout's dinghy passed.
"Say, you lads," he exclaimed breathlessly. "Do you ever use strong language? If you don't, you would if you had this brute of a pig to deal with."
"What's wrong, sir?" asked Desmond, signing to his chums to lay on their oars.