"I'm afraid it was my fault, sir," said Findlay.
"Don't let that worry you, Jock," replied Mr. Graham. "You are not the first person who thought he'd let the anchor go properly. There's always that risk on a dark night."
"I'll take good care in future to see that the fluke hasn't caught up on the bobstay," said Findlay with grim resolution.
At last the pangs of hunger drove the crew ashore. The tide was now rising, and every minute lessened the danger of disaster to the yacht; but it was an unwise proceeding to attempt strenuous work on empty stomachs.
After a hearty "breakfast-and-dinner-combined", the crew re-embarked in the dinghy and rowed towards the mouth of the harbour, taking advantage of the strong counter-eddy to the main flood.
To everyone's delight the Spindrift was still in the same position as when they last saw her, but the water was now within a foot of her load-line.
"It's quite safe to get aboard," said Mr. Graham. "Directly she feels lively we can ease off the throat-halliards, recover our kedge and lay it out in the stream. Let's hope there's no steamer coming in or out, or her wash will give the yacht a nasty hammering on the rocks."
All hands set to work with a will. The yacht was pumped dry, although she did not appear to have more water in the bilges than usual. Then the kedge, with thirty fathoms of grass line, was dropped in deep water.
The loud bray of a syren, echoing along the wooded hills on the Kingswear side of the harbour, warned the Sea Scouts that what they didn't want to happen was taking place. Already the bows of a large collier were visible as she rounded the precipitous bluff of St. Petrox.
"Driving for all she's worth," exclaimed Desmond. "Look at her bow-wave. Do you think she'll slow down for us, sir?"