The Sea Scouts of the
“Kestrel”
CHAPTER I
Knocked Out
“What’s happened to Mr. Grant, I wonder?” remarked Sea Scout Peter Craddock, as he gazed anxiously through the gathering twilight. “He’s late.”
“So will we be, if we keep hanging-on to the slack,” rejoined Patrol Leader Frank Brandon. “There are only eighteen more days to the Sea Scouts’ Jamboree, and if we’re to be in it, there’s not a minute to waste. Mr. Grant’s all right, never you fear.”
Craddock straightened his aching back, wiped the perspiration from his eyes, and resumed his voluntary though tedious task. He, too, realised that time was precious if the “Otters” were to be represented at the forthcoming and eagerly anticipated nautical festivities of the Sea Scouts’ Jamboree.
The “Otters” were a long way from their native Aberstour. Force of circumstances had hit them pretty hard of late, but, like corks, they bobbed up again under adversity as all scouts should do.
For one thing, their staunch little yacht Puffin was no more. She had foundered at her moorings in a terrific autumn gale that had sprung up with such suddenness that the official weather forecast had failed to give any warning whatsoever. Then, Mr. Grant, their Scoutmaster, had a serious illness that put him out of the running for three months. Patrol Leader Frank Brandon was away on a five months’ involuntary voyage on a tramp steamer, and had only just returned.
In the absence of Scoutmaster and Patrol Leader, Peter Craddock did his level best to keep the troop running, and by dint of sheer enthusiasm he had succeeded.