"I'm used to going aloft," continued Craddock. "Am I not, Mr. Grant?"
Scoutmaster Grant, who had relieved the owner at the helm, nodded assent.
"He's as active as a monkey, Clifton. Up you go, Peter!"
The Sea Scout needed no second bidding. Grasping the main halliards and using the mast-hoops as footholds he nimbly ascended to the cross-trees. There he paused to decide upon a further course of action.
It was far from comfortable. Although, as Peter had declared, he was used to going aloft, the conditions were very different from those he had previously encountered. The violent motion of the yacht was considerably exaggerated at a height of thirty feet above the deck, whilst the fiercely flogging mainsail threatened to sweep the Sea Scout from his precarious position.
Shinning up the bare pole above the cross-trees Peter made the discovery that the topsail halliard had "jumped" the block and was wedged tightly between it and the sheave.
At present there was only one thing to be done. Drawing his sheath knife he cut the rope. The topsail yard dropped, and before Craddock could regain the deck the sail was lowered and secured by Mr. Grant.
{Illustration: "THE FIERCELY FLOGGING MAINSAIL THREATENED TO SWEEP THE SEA SCOUT FROM HIS PRECARIOUS POSITION."
[P. 150}