It was now a case of "up helm and run for it". The yacht answered readily to the action of the rudder, and in a few seconds she was scudding before the wind with slacked-off sheets and almost on an even keel.
"See the next mark?" shouted the Scoutmaster "On your port bow?"
"Ay, ay, sir," was the confident response.
"All right below, there?" inquired Mr. Graham, calling down the companion-way.
"Quite, sir," replied Jock, who up to the present had all his work cut out to keep the injured man from further harm. "He's not come to yet, sir."
Certainly Jock had seen little or nothing of the fun. By the noises on deck as the cable came home he knew that his comrades were weighing anchor. The shock too, when the yacht grounded on her keel, was far more pronounced to him than it had been to the others on deck. Then, by the more or less steady heel to starboard, he was aware that the little craft was under way. And now, by reason of the yacht running in comparatively calm water, he knew that she was within the entrance to the creek.
Gybing abreast of the coast-guard station the yacht flew up stream, passed the line of anchored craft, until she was almost becalmed under the high, well-wooded ground to starboard.
"We've got her in, sir," remarked Desmond. "Now what are we going to do?"
That was precisely what Mr. Graham was thinking about. The obvious thing to do was to get medical aid for the injured man. In his present state it was far too risky to attempt to land him in the dinghy, and, since he could not be taken to the doctor, the inference was that the doctor must be brought to him. Then, again, was the question: where could the patient be placed? The narrow, ill-lighted cabin was not at all suitable, with its awkward bunks and headroom of less than six feet under the beams. The best thing to do in these circumstances was to tranship the injured man from the yacht to the guardship.
"I'll take her for a minute," said Mr. Graham, relieving Desmond at the helm. "Call up the others and tell them we're coming alongside."