“Why!” he exclaimed. “There’s something dragging astern. I can’t make out what it is, ’cause the wake is bubbling so much. Pass me the boat-hook, Talbot.”
Lying at full length on the stern deck, Peter probed with the iron-shod boat-hook. Metal rasped on metal, and on attempting to withdraw the boat-hook the Sea Scout found that it was hitched in a line of some sort.
“Bear a hand, some of you fellows!” he called out breathlessly.
Talbot and Symington came to his assistance. All three hauled and levered at the stout ash boat-hook stave.
“Can’t get in another inch,” declared Talbot.
“Sure you’re not foul of the rudder?” asked Mr. Grant.
“No, sir, it’s astern of the rudder, whatever it is.”
“Now, Brandon, you’re in charge,” said the Scoutmaster. “Carry on and see what you can do.”
The Patrol Leader began throwing off his scanty clothing.
“Down helm!” he ordered. “Jib and staysail sheets a-weather!”