With that the "Wolves" reluctantly betook themselves off, and the "Otters" carried on the task of watching the mysterious yacht. The Scouts knew their work well. Even in the gathering twilight they refrained from showing themselves against the skyline. Each lad, with a cluster of gorse in his hat to still lessen the risk of detection, kept well behind cover.
Night fell. There was no moon, but the stars gave sufficient light to distinguish the outlines of the coast and the grimly silent yacht, that, two hundred feet below, rocked gently on the bosom of the ocean.
"It's eleven o'clock and slack tide," said Phillips to his Leader. "What do you say to this: suppose we get the others to lower us down the cliffs by the Tea Caves? It's hardly any distance."
"What then?" asked Atherton.
"Well, there being no tide, we could easily swim off to that yacht. It would be worth doing to find out what those fellows are doing on board."
"I'm game," agreed Atherton. "But we'll have to mention it to Mr Buckley."
"Do you think he'll let us go?" asked Phillips, anxiously.
"If he won't there's an end to it," rejoined Atherton, sturdily. "So here goes, I'll ask."
"A hundred yards from the shore at least," observed the Scoutmaster, when Atherton made the proposal. "Are you quite sure you can do the distance there and back?"
"Both Phillips and I hold half-mile certificates, sir," said the Leader. "If the other fellows will lower us on to the ledge leading to the Caves, it will be a fairly simple matter to swarm down the rope to the base of the cliff."