"Hope so," replied the Scoutmaster laconically, and standing on the cabin-top he semaphored to the oncoming vessel to ease down.
The collier showed not the faintest sign of so doing. She passed at full speed, a couple of men on the bridge grinning at the plight of the yacht as she did so.
"Look out!" shouted Mr. Graham. "Mind you aren't jerked overboard."
The Sea Scouts took the warning promptly. It was lucky for them that they did. A huge wave was approaching, but, as generally happens when a vessel is steaming hard in a narrow channel, the water on either side was sucked away like the undertow of a receding breaker.
The Spindrift, already practically water-borne, lifted heavily as the swirling stream struck her side. The next moment she was swept from her precarious position into deep water.
So far so good. But there still remained a great risk of disaster. Would the rapidly-approaching wash hurl the yacht back again upon the granite-like ledge?
Quick to act, the Scoutmaster rushed for'ard and began hauling in the kedge-warp. Desmond, grasping the situation, scrambled for'ard also, maintaining his balance like a cat. Together they hauled their hardest, then:
"Belay!" exclaimed Mr. Graham.
The Patrol Leader took a turn round the bitts. It was impossible to haul in any more of the rope before the swell struck the yacht.
The Spindrift dipped her bows well under as the curling mass of water poured over the fore-deck, drenching Mr. Graham and his companion to the skin. Back she staggered until the warp tautened like a violin-string. Then, aided by the undertow, she plunged forward again, this time well clear of danger.