"Lucky beggars!" he muttered.
But possibly his benediction would have taken a different form had he but known that it was through the agency of the Puffin and her crew of Sea Scouts that the s.s. Getalong was not lying fathoms deep on the bed of the English Channel.
CHAPTER XI
THE MYSTERIOUS VISITOR
"One of you fellows must remain on board as ship-keeper," decided Scoutmaster Grant. "The unlucky one must be elected amongst yourselves, so get busy, lads."
The Puffin lay alongside the quay at Sablesham, moored fore and aft by ropes ashore and with her anchor in the stream to prevent her chafing against the piles.
The Sea Scouts were about to spend the evening ashore. An invitation had been received from the Lydiard Scouts to attend a camp-fire concert at a camp on the side of Blackbird Beacon, a lofty, grass-covered chalk down about five miles from Sablesham Harbour.
Having told his crew to choose amongst themselves who should be ship-keeper, Mr. Grant went ashore to visit the harbour master. Twenty minutes later he returned to find the debatable point still undecided. Everyone wanted to go, and each Sea Scout had half a dozen reasons, good, bad, or indifferent, why he should not be left behind. There was no unseemly wrangle or display of bad temper; they were simply arguing the matter out.
"What! Not settled yet?" exclaimed Mr. Grant.