"Give Bradley a chance, anyway," said Hayes. "Let's hoist our patrol burgee. Are you starting the motor, Findlay?"
Findlay looked inquiringly at Mr. Graham.
"It would show your seamanship if you beat into the creek," remarked the Scoutmaster.
"Very good, sir," replied Desmond. "We won't use the engine. A pull on the main sheet there!"
The Spindrift, hitherto running, was now close hauled on the starboard tack. This would take her up the "boomed" channel, but above the coastguard slipway it would mean almost a dead beat before squaring off for the final reach.
"Ready about—lee-o!" ordered Desmond as the beat began.
Mr. Graham sat on the top of the companion ladder, watching the manoeuvre but resolving to let the crew carry on under the Patrol Leader's orders.
It was a narrow channel and the wind was fluky, but the crew were smart at their work, and by this time they knew their ship. She was fairly slow at coming about, but sure. Not once did she show a tendency to miss stays.
Every board brought the Spindrift nearer and nearer to the guardship. The crew could see the Ocean Bride moored astern of her, but on neither craft was there any sign of animation.
"By Jove!" ejaculated Desmond. "We've got 'em cold! We'll run right under her lee, and give them our Patrol call."