"Do we bring up here, sir?" he enquired.
"No, we are going right up the river as far as we can go," replied Mr. Clifton. "It's a tidal river for nearly five miles, with a small town—Ravensholm—at the end. Edge her off a bit, Peter. There's a mud-spit extending a good ten yards outside that beacon."
Presently Craddock noticed a narrow gap in the shore that marked the mouth of Ravensholm River. Here the wind headed the yacht and the Thetis had to make a number of short tacks.
It was exhilarating work beating to wind'ard in a stiff breeze, and for a considerable time both Sea Scouts had plenty to do to tend sheets, since Mr. Clifton had taken the helm.
Then the river took an abrupt turn. The wind was now abeam, and the Thetis travelled fast, "full and bye." The land, too, was beginning to assume a hilly nature, with yellowish cliffs here and there where countless ages ago the river had cut a passage through.
On the banks were several people who regarded the yacht with considerable interest, since strangers who came to Ravensholm by water were few and far between.
To one of these, a burly bearded farmer, the skipper of the Thetis waved a greeting.
"Afternoon, Mr. Thorley," he shouted. "How are you?"
"Muddlin', thank you," was the reply. "Will you be wanting any milk tonight, sir?"
"Rather," shouted Mr. Clifton. "We'll be coming along as soon as we've moored up."