But the fates were against them.
"Yot ahoy!" bawled a voice from the quayside. "You can't a-stop here. 'Arbour Master's orders. You're to shift your berth across t'other side abreast yon coal-hulk."
There was no refusal. The mandate had to be obeyed. The weary crew turned out, started up the ready engine, and motored across to the Kingswear side. Here they anchored, and hurrying below were soon deep in dreamless slumber.
CHAPTER XXII
A Narrow Shave
Suddenly, Hayes was awakened by a slight jar upon the yacht's hull. He looked up, sleepily, at the patch of greyish light filtering through the starboard scuttle. Already dawn was breaking.
"Swell of a passing steamer, I guess," he said to himself, as he replaced his head on the pillow.
Another slight shock roused him before he had fallen asleep again.
"It must be the dinghy bumping alongside," he declared. "I suppose I ought to drop a bucket over her stern. That'll keep her clear."