"Only on the East Coast—Southend and Harwich way."
"Don't think much of that part," said Woodleigh. "Too jolly flat. But perhaps it wasn't up to sample when we were there in the Olivette. You should see Devon and Cornwall—the coast especially. Why, I think there's nothing to touch them anywhere in England for scenery and good harbours. Look here, I've got a scheme. Couldn't you all come down to Plymouth with us? That would save you a long railway journey, and you needn't have so far to tramp. What do you say?"
"Of course I'd like it," replied Desmond, "but——"
"I'll ask our Scoutmaster," interrupted Woodleigh. "He'll be only too pleased. Hello, Flemming, old son, I was just saying that these fellows ought to go down-Channel with us. I'm just off to ask Mr. Armitage."
"Save yourself the fag, my festive," rejoined Eric Flemming, Woodleigh's special chum. "Mr. Armitage has asked Mr. Graham already. You fellows have just an hour and a half to get ready," he added, addressing the Patrol Leader of the Southend Sea Scouts. "You're coming back to Keyhaven with us, and we're putting you up on board."
CHAPTER VII
The Start of the Great Adventure
The crews of both boats assembled in the saloon of the guardship for dinner. It was a convivial meal. The lads let their tongues go with a will when they weren't eating. The two Scoutmasters were discussing scouting and talking over old times—both had been in command of M.L.'s during the war, but had been in widely different patrols—as if they had known each other intimately for years.
The meal too was done to perfection. Hayes, the culinary expert of the Southend Sea Scouts, had lived up to his reputation. The huge sea-pie was pronounced excellent, while a plum-duff of immense size was so light and appetizing that it disappeared altogether. And no one felt any ill-effects after it, which was probably one of the best tests of its good quality.