"Oldbury Head seven miles nor'-nor'-east," shouted Mr. Grant in reply.
The captain waved his hand in acknowledgement. The great ship glided past, giving the Sea Scouts time to read the words, "Achilles, Nantes," on her stern before she was swallowed up in the fog.
"Frenchman!" exclaimed Craddock. "And isn't she shifting, although there's hardly enough wind to make us answer our helm."
"At any rate, we've done her a Good Turn," remarked Mr. Grant. "She's going about already. Cautious chap, that skipper. Now, Hopcroft, try a cast and let's see where we are."
The lead-line showed a depth of seventeen fathoms, while when the lead was brought on deck the "arming" was thick with fine grey sand.
"Good enough," said the Scoutmaster. "We're still eight miles from land. I gave that fellow a generous amount of scope, which is on the safe side. Now, lads, grub. Watch and watch. Starboard watch will remain on deck while the port watch goes below."
With an appreciative "Ay, ay, sir!" Craddock was about to dive into the cabin when Symington, who had relieved Phillips in the bows, suddenly yelled:
"Vessel dead ahead, sir!"