"And you haven't put any on," retorted Bedford, looking at the lean, weather-beaten features of the Patrol Leader.
"And how are the Collinsons?" asked Mr. Graham.
"Mr. Collinson's doing well, sir," replied Bedford "His arm is mending rapidly. He told me the other day that we were so jolly handy that he meant to ship a couple of Sea Scouts on board his yacht instead of a paid hand. When do we start, sir?"
"At daybreak to-morrow," answered the Scoutmaster. "The glass is high and steady, and the weather forecast—if that's anything to go by—is for westerly winds of moderate strength. We've a goodish run across West Bay, and I want to be well to the east'ard of Portland Bill by the early evening."
Grey dawn was appearing over the Devon hills when the crew of the Spindrift turned out.
"Isn't it cold for August!" exclaimed Bedford, swinging his arms.
"You're cold, eh?" rejoined the Patrol Leader, jumping at the opportunity afforded by Bedford's remark. "Right-o; nip below and start up the stove. You're cook of the day."
The Sea Scout obeyed readily enough. By the time the rest of the crew had uncoated the mainsail, got the headsail and mizzen ready to hoist, and had broken out and stowed the kedge, the "galley-slave", as Hayes termed the youth told off for cooking meals, reported that hot cocoa was ready.
A large cup of the sustaining beverage and a couple of very hard biscuits provided the "stand-by" to commence the working day, as breakfast was to be served while under way.
The little motor acted admirably, in spite of the cold, starting up at the first swing of the fly-wheel. "All ready?" shouted the Scoutmaster.