"A regular Paddy's hurricane!" commented Desmond as he came on deck next morning.
Not a breath of wind stirred the air. The sky was clear; the placid waters of Padstow Harbour were as smooth as a mirror. The smoke from the various chimneys ashore went up as straight as a plumb-line.
Findlay, stopping only to tap the barometer, followed his chum into the cockpit.
"Gass high and steady," he observed. "It's going to be a top-hole day. Wind nor'-east, when it does come, I fancy."
"It's a good thing we have a motor," added Hayes, glancing at his blistered hands. "The Spindrift is a regular brute to sweep along. How's that toe of yours, Desmond?"
"Much better, thanks," replied the Patrol Leader.
Mr. Graham, clad like the others in a bathing-suit, came on deck, glanced over the side to make sure that the tide was slack, and gave the signal.
The next instant four distinct splashes indicated that the crew of the Spindrift were taking a personal interest in the waters of Padstow Harbour. A vigorous swim, followed by a brisk rub-down, gave the lads a most healthy appetite.
"When do we make a start, sir?" asked Desmond, during breakfast.
"As soon as we've stowed everything away," was the reply. "We've a fairly long run to-day."