It was an unpleasant sensation when Desmond's feet touched the trailing tentacles of weed. Although slimy, they had a distinct tendency to entangle him. They impeded his progress. He tried to keep his feet closer to the surface to evade the kelp, but to no purpose.
The while the dinghy was drifting slowly but steadily towards a cluster of rocks, appropriately named The Verticals, against which the surf was lashing. Once she got within the limits of that broken water she would be done for, and Desmond would have all his work cut out to swim back to the yacht.
At length, finding his progress tedious and difficult, the Patrol Leader turned over on his back. His feet were in consequence nearer the surface, and, aided by the fin-like movements of his hands, Desmond found that the weed no longer hampered him.
Steadily he gained upon the truant, until, with a feeling of relief, he grasped the gunwale. Even then, fairly tired with his strenuous efforts, he had to hang on for a minute or so before clambering in over the transom.
There was only one oar in the boat. The other had been jerked overboard by the steamer's wash.
Apart from the actual loss, the fact that only one oar remained did not daunt the resourceful Patrol Leader. Sculling over the stern is an accomplishment that almost every Sea Scout is capable of. The average amateur is "tied up in knots" if called upon to scull a dinghy.
Fortunately the little craft had a sculling notch in the transom. Quickly Desmond had the dinghy under control, and was making good progress towards the Spindrift.
"There's the other oar!" he exclaimed to himself, as he caught sight of the missing article. Offering no resistance to the breeze, it had drifted much slower than the buoyant dinghy, and on that account it had escaped the Patrol Leader's notice as he swam. Standing up and sculling, he commanded a larger "field" of vision—although the "field" was an expanse of sunlit waves—and thus was able to spot the drifting oar.
"Well done, Desmond!" exclaimed Mr. Graham, as the dinghy came alongside the Spindrift. The other Sea Scouts gave their plucky comrade a rousing cheer.
"We'll want a new painter, sir," he remarked.