The Spindrift had now obtained and was holding a useful lead. An hour later she was a quarter of a mile ahead, with the drifter following dead in her wake. Portland Bill was abeam at last; the drifter starboarded helm and made towards the Shambles Lightship, while the yacht shaped a course for the distant St. Alban's Head.
"She's making for Weymouth by the east side of the Race," said the Scoutmaster. "More than likely she'll get a tow into harbour. Well, we've saved money this time."
The tide was now setting strongly to the east'ard. Under its favourable influence the Spindrift quickly reeled off the distance between the Bill and St. Alban's, passing through the Race off the latter headland without taking much water on board.
The wind had now veered a couple of points, and on rounding St. Alban's Head the change of direction of the coast line necessitated a close haul on the port tack if the yacht were to make Swanage or Poole.
Mr. Graham glanced at his watch, consulted the barometer, and took a survey of the sky to wind'ard.
"Lads!" he exclaimed. "We'll carry on for the Solent. We've four hours' fair tide, and with decent luck we'll be inside the Wight before dark."
"Good enough, sir!" agreed the crew in chorus.