Nevertheless they were very attentive to their guests, pointing out the various objects of interest and answering scores of questions concerning the Olivette and her adventures.
For Desmond and his chums there was no lack of excitement. They had a distant view of Osborne House, they saw Cowes, with a crowd of yachts anchored, and the strong tideway known as the Roads; Beaulieu and Newton Rivers were pointed out to them—places where the Olivette's crew had had strange experiences. They passed submarines, destroyers, and light cruisers; a giant liner bound from Southampton to New York overtook them, her wash throwing the Olivette about like a cork. Seaplanes and flying-boats from the R.A.F. station at Calshot glided overhead. Altogether, it was a brief and exciting hour.
"Game for an early morning to-morrow, Graham?" asked Scoutmaster Armitage abruptly.
"Certainly," was the reply. "What's the scheme?"
"The glass is high and steady," said Mr. Armitage. "It seems a pity to miss the fine weather. What do you say to making a start at 4 a.m.? Barring accidents we ought to be at Plymouth by four or five in the afternoon. That will mean a clear gain of twenty-four hours as far as you are concerned."
"Isn't it upsetting your arrangements?" asked Mr. Graham.
"Not at all. We'll go into Keyhaven on the top of the first high water. That will give us a good two hours alongside the wharf to take in petrol and paraffin. At the second high water we can drop down to our mooring for the night, and start with the first of the west-going tide to-morrow morning."
"These double tides puzzle me," declared the East Coast Scoutmaster frankly. "When a fellow has been used to two high tides a day, it rather muddles him up when he's suddenly got four to deal with."
"Quite simple, really," was the response. "Here—from Hurst to Wootton the second high tide is roughly two hours after the first, Southampton Water has double tide of about the same interval. Now, at Portsmouth there are only two high waters in the day; but the flood makes for seven and a half hours and the ebb is only five and a half hours. Again, at Poole there are double high tides, and roughly the first high water occurs four hours after low tide, and the second high water four hours after the first. It's interesting work studying the tides. My lads are awfully keen on it. Only the other day I was reading a magazine story to them. It described a person embarking on a yacht at Plymouth. The moon was at the full, it was high water, and the time twelve o'clock. Young Woodleigh pulled me up short. 'That can't possibly be, sir', he asserted. I didn't twig it at the time, but the boy was right. High water, full and change, anywhere between the Lizard and Portland Bill, occurs between five o'clock and six-thirty; eastward of Portland it is between ten and twelve o'clock, right round as far as Margate. So high water at Plymouth at the time stated and with the moon at the full is a physical impossibility. Now, we're nearly off the entrance to Keyhaven. It's a fairly tricky channel, but my lads know it. I don't have to bother about anything. To all intents I'm a passenger."
The Southend Sea Scouts were watching the manoeuvres of Woodleigh with ill-concealed wonder. The Olivette was apparently heading for a steep, pebbly beach. On the left part of the beach was a port with a detached lighthouse, which they were told was Hurst Castle, one of the places where King Charles I was imprisoned. Almost in the centre of the shore were several coast-guard houses, direct for which the boat appeared to be steering. South'ard of the point the sea, calm everywhere else, was a wide patch of seething water, which Flemming pointed out as Hurst Race.