Clear of the Bridge a course was shaped to pass four miles south of Portland Bill. This meant being a considerable distance from the picturesque Dorset coast between Old Harry and The Bill; but, as Mr. Armitage remarked, time was an object, and, if the Olivette were to make Plymouth the same day, she could not afford to skirt the coastline simply with the idea of giving the guests an opportunity to enjoy the scenery.
Still carrying her tide the Olivette made good progress. Early in the forenoon a light easterly breeze sprang up, but since the speed of the boat was about equal to that of the wind there was no tempering coolness to be derived from it. The only apparent result was to throw up a long, low swell that made the Olivette roll considerably.
"There's Portland Race, lads," announced Mr. Armitage, pointing to a dark-coloured patch of water on the starboard beam and to the south'ard of the wedge-shaped Bill. "It's one of the worst parts off the South Coast."
"Have you ever been through it, sir?" asked Hayes.
"No; and I don't want to, thank you," was the reply. "I've been inside it, which is quite a different matter. When you fellows bring the Spindrift up-Channel I'd advise you to keep outside it. Inside is all right if you work your tides, but in this district of topsy-turvydom in the matter of tides there's an important thing to remember about Portland Bill. For nine hours out of twelve the current sets south'ard on both sides of the Bill, so that, if you were in a sailing craft and were unable to stem the tide, you would be swept into the Race itself."
"And what would happen, sir, if a boat did get carried into it?" persisted Hayes.
"Swamped," replied the Scoutmaster laconically.
"So don't try it, Hayes," added Mr. Graham.
"I believe I can hear the Race," declared Findlay.
"Yes," agreed Woodleigh, "you can. We've heard it miles away on a calm night. It's not a pleasant sound."