“Code flag over M, sir,” reported Craddock. “They going to give the winning numbers.”
The first number—represented by the code letter G—indicated that No. 7 was the winner of the cup. That showed that the coveted trophy had been carried off by the Poole Sea Scouts, who had not only actually come in first, but were first also on handicap.
When the second number went up, Craddock gave a whoop of delight, while the rest of the crew almost fell over themselves with excitement.
The Kestrel had won the second prize, but only by the narrow margin of five seconds.
CHAPTER XXIII
A Dead Heat
The Kestrel’s crew had only just finished their much-appreciated tea when the Merlin’s dinghy came alongside.
“Hello, Pendennis!” exclaimed Mr. Grant, going on deck to receive his visitor. “What happened to you?”
“A slice of bad luck,” replied the Cornishman. “Our anchor tripped during the night when we lay off Newtown. When we turned out we found ourselves bumping on Warden Ledge. We must have drifted nearly seven miles without knowing it. Then, in trying to get off, we strained one of our propeller blades and had to put into Yarmouth to get it straightened. After that we came on here.”
“And when did you arrive?”
“Early this morning,” replied Mr. Pendennis. “In fact, so early that you lazy fellows were fast asleep. We felt tempted to give you a hail. Heartiest congratulations, Grant, in getting second in that race.”