Left to themselves, Craddock and Heavitree had quite an enjoyable afternoon. They fished, exchanged semaphore and Morse messages with the Merlin’s ship-keepers, wrote letters, and watched passing shipping.
Six o’clock came, but there were no signs of the two dinghies. The Sea Scouts had tea, washed up and stowed away the things, and came on deck again. Still the absent members of the two crews failed to put in an appearance.
“What’s happened to the others?” asked Peter, hailing the Merlin.
“Perhaps they can’t find a garage or a place where they sell petrol,” replied one of the Falmouth lads. “I’ve been aloft to look, but there’s only a small part of the harbour to be seen. It runs away behind that hill to the right of the entrance.”
“More likely they are high and dry on the mud,” added Heavitree. “Ah, well! We aren’t lonely, and we aren’t idle. I’ve caught enough fish for supper for all hands.”
“If they are aground they can hardly be blamed for that,” continued the Cornish Sea Scout. “These tides are fair puzzlers. Down our way we’re satisfied with two tides a day; here people get four.”
Craddock agreed. It was his first experience of the coast between Cowes and Weymouth, where a second high water follows the first at anything from two to four hours later. He had also been used to a rise and fall of about eighteen feet. Here the range of tide seemed to be about six feet.
At sunset the main ebb was almost done. The Kestrel, anchored nearer in shore than the Merlin, was within fifty yards of the now exposed gravel banks. Taking soundings, Peter found that the depth was a fathom and a half.
“So we won’t ground at low tide,” he remarked to his chum. “There’s nothing to worry about. Let’s go below and make ourselves snug. It’s pretty nippy this evening.”
Having lighted the riding-lamp and hoisted it on the forestay the two lads retired to the saloon. Soon they were making a literary feast, devouring the pages of their favourite weekly paper. Breathlessly they followed the fearfully exciting adventures. The flight of time passed unheeded. They had almost forgotten their immediate surroundings in visualising a stalwart sergeant riding hot-foot across the boundless prairie in close pursuit of a much-wanted desperado.