“Might do it,” replied Craddock. “It seems as if the thing isn’t getting enough air as it is. However, see what you can do.”
Cautiously making his way for’ard, Heavitree grasped the shrouds with one hand and with the other removed the lamp from the screen. He had to take it into the saloon to relight it, and at the same time he wound his handkerchief loosely round the lower part of the lamp. Almost as soon as he regained the cockpit the light went out.
“You’re whacked, old son!” exclaimed Craddock.
“Am I—you see!” retorted Heavitree as he went below again with the extinguished lamp.
In a few minutes he returned with the green light gleaming exceptionally brightly. Curiously Peter watched his chum go for’ard, expecting every second to see the light vanish. It didn’t.
Heavitree refixed the lamp and came aft. It gave no further trouble. The resourceful Sea Scout had removed the oil reservoir and had substituted his small electric flash lamp.
The Kestrel was now maintaining quite a good speed. Peter took it to be at least eight knots, but perhaps like most amateurs he was apt to overestimate the vessel’s rate. In spite of the curling, crested waves, she came through with hardly any water on her decks, and although at times the following seas appeared high and menacing, she rode them in a manner that gave everyone the greatest confidence in her seagoing qualities.
“Light on the port bow, sir!” reported Wilson.
“Your eyes are sharper than mine, then,” rejoined the Scoutmaster, after a prolonged look in the direction indicated.
“There it is again, sir,” declared the lad. “Two quick flashes!”