The first meal on board was a great success, if Jock Findlay's initial blunder was not taken into consideration. Jock was told off as cook for the day, and, apparently not having heard Captain Johnson's instructions, had made the cocoa with boiling sea-water.
It was getting on for nine o'clock when the conversation related in the beginning of this chapter took place. Already the sun had dipped behind the tree-clad hills on the western side of the creek. Away to the nor'ard the sky was overcast, while an on-shore breeze blew with steadily increasing strength up the tidal estuary. The evening was cold—decidedly chilly for July—while occasional scuds of rain presaged a dirty night.
Presently Patrol Leader Desmond, who had been examining the entrance to the creek with one of the telescopes, gave an exclamation of surprise.
"What is it, Desmond?" inquired Jock, who, with the Patrol Leader, was standing in the chartroom. "An SOS?"
"Of sorts," rejoined his chum. "There's a small craft out there flying a signal—I'm not sure, but I think it's the NC."
Findlay snatched up the second telescope, threw open one of the windows, and levelled the glass in the direction Desmond had indicated. Before he could focus the instrument, the object lens was blurred with rain.
"Dash it all!" he exclaimed, and proceeded to clean the glass.
Before Findlay could resume his investigations, Desmond had put down his telescope. Hurrying to the head of the ladder he roused his chums by shouting:
"On deck there, you fellows. There's a vessel in distress off the mouth of the creek."