"I've not forgotten it, nor my hands either," rejoined his chum, with a faint show of asperity. "My head's aching like anything."
"So's mine," said Wilde, "so you've nothing to make a song about."
Desmond heard, but said nothing. It seemed strange to him that two chums should start wrangling on board a small craft. But a few minutes later amicable relations were resumed as suddenly as they had been interrupted.
At six o'clock the yacht was hove-to once more, while the handy Sea Scout prepared and served a meal. Shortly after, the tide turned, and the Spanker made better progress, although the breeze was paltry and inclined to be fluky. Nine o'clock found her off Compass Point, the southern boundary of Bude Haven, and Desmond had another experience: that of waiting for enough water to make the entrance.
At last, with centre-plate up, the Spanker ran in. Fortunately for Desmond the wind was very light. Wilde, with his uninjured arm, held the tiller, while the Sea Scout lowered first mainsail, then mizzen, jib, and finally the staysail.
Gradually losing way, the ketch was brought alongside the stone wall outside the lock and made fast. In the fading twilight Desmond was delighted and surprised to recognize Mr. Graham's voice.
"Thank Heaven I've found you!" exclaimed the Scoutmaster gratefully. "What have you been doing, Desmond?"
It was Truscott, erstwhile scoffer of Sea Scouts, who replied:
"Doing a rattling good turn, sir. We'd have been tied up in knots if it hadn't been for Patrol Leader Desmond."