There were a few boats hauled up on the beach, but nothing resembling the Ocean Bride's dinghy. A little way along the shore was a fisherman mending his nets.
To him went Mr. Graham. The Scoutmaster "knew the ropes ". Instead of asking: "Have you seen or heard anything of a dinghy?" he opened the conversation by stating:
"We've come for the white dinghy that drove ashore here at about nine o'clock on the night before last."
"O-ay!" replied the man. "She be in t'boathouse over yonder back along. Me an' my mate picked her up, knowin' as 'ow you'd be up along soon. If you hadn't, Garge—him's my mate, you'll understand—was a-goin' into Ryde to report to the coast-guards."
The old fisherman led the way to a tumble-down shed. Unlocking the door he disclosed the truant.
"Is she damaged?" asked Mr. Graham.
"Not so much as a bit o' paint scraped off, sir," was the reply. "Me an' my mate just waded in—above our knees it wur—an' lifted her over the stones."
"Well, what do we owe you?" inquired the Scoutmaster, when the Sea Scouts had lifted the light dinghy and carried her to the water's edge.
"Leave it to you, sir," suggested the fisherman, with the wiliness of his class.
"I wouldn't if I were you," rejoined Mr. Graham, with equal guile. "You might be very disappointed if you did. Now, come on. What do you think is a reasonable sum for the trouble to which you have been placed?"