Desmond hurried aft, secured a grip on the tiller, and waited.
For some moments the staysail slatted violently in the wind. The yacht began to gather stern-way and showed a tendency to fall off on the starboard tack. Exerting all his strength the Scoutmaster gripped the stiff canvas (his finger-nails were tender for a week afterwards) and held the sail aback.
Even then the yacht hesitated. There was a distinct shock, different from the jars and jerks caused by the action of the waves. The vessel had touched bottom. Her keel had struck what felt like a shingle bank.
Then, to Mr. Graham's relief, she heeled and drew clear of the bottom.
But the danger of striking a lee shore was not yet over. The yacht under staysail alone could not "claw off ". She had to be sailed free, but not too free, until she rounded the spit of mud at the starboard side of the entrance to the creek. The question was whether Desmond could strike the happy medium and keep her on the only possible safe course, which was now against a strong west-going tide.
Checking the lee staysail sheet, Mr. Graham came aft. Then, belaying the sheet, he glanced at the bellying canvas which was just discernible against the loom of the land.
That glance told him that the youthful helmsman knew his job.
"Couldn't do better myself," thought the Scoutmaster.
He made no attempt to take the tiller. It was one of his principles in Sea Scouting never to interfere when one of the lads was doing his work properly. And Desmond knew it was "up to him" to keep the yacht on her course; he also knew that he was doing the right thing, otherwise his Scoutmaster would have "butted in".
Suddenly, through the shower of spray flying over the yacht's bows, Desmond caught sight of the outermost of the beacons, barely twenty yards to lee'ard.