Chuckling over the success of his plan Peter went for'ard, intending to steady himself by the shrouds as he leapt ashore. Before he could do so there was a loud crack that sounded to him like the report of a pistol.
Simultaneously the quay appeared to recede from the yacht. Already the distance between the two was too great for Craddock to leap. Then it suddenly dawned upon him.
"The yacht's adrift!" gasped Peter.
Absolutely certain that this was part of the stranger's scheme to smash up the Sea Scouts' yacht, Peter clambered into the bows. The part of the grass rope secured to the bits hung limply. The Puffin was swinging out with her bows pointing towards the opposite quay and with the tide boring furiously against her port side.
Kneeling, Peter fumbled for the chain. A distinct rasping sound told him that the anchor was playing false. Instead of holding, it was dragging.
Then came another disconcerting sound—the splintering of wood from right aft. The warp on the port quarter had wrenched the cleat to which it was secured, from its fastenings.
Back swung the yacht head to tide, but the anchor still refused to "bite." Having started to drag it continued to do so. Soon the yacht was abreast of the pier-head and about twenty yards from it. In a few minutes she would be swept by the surging ebb right out into the English Channel.