CHAPTER VII
THROUGH THE FOG BANK
"We'll have that jack-yarder aloft, lads!" exclaimed Scoutmaster Grant as the yacht Puffin cleared the entrance to Aberstour Harbour. "It's going to be a fine day and a light wind from the south'ard."
The Otters were having their turn afloat, and, on the principle that a voyage is all the more enjoyable if made with a definite object in view, they had planned a run out to the Vang Lightship with a consignment of papers and magazines to help liven the monotonous existence of the lightship's crew.
Quickly the topsail was set. The yacht being "stiff," she could carry this additional canvas with ease even in a much stronger breeze. Now she was slipping through the dancing, sunlit water at a very modest three knots.
"Jolly sight better than sitting in a stuffy court," remarked Peter Craddock, referring to the recent trial of a certain Harry Benz, who, under the name of George Gregory, had attempted to smuggle a quantity of cocaine.
"I didn't like having to give evidence a bit, sir. And it seemed rough luck that the fellow should get all the punishment and his pals go scot free."
"A case of honour amongst thieves, I expect," remarked Mr. Grant. "He wouldn't divulge the names of his accomplices, and apparently there was a pretty big gang at work."
"I suppose, sir," said Patrol-leader Frank Brandon, "they won't try to pay us out."