“Yes, you’re right, Talbot,” he replied. “It is the Merlin. She’s becalmed.”
“Then, we may overhaul her yet,” said Wilson.
“She’ll use her motor,” declared Craddock.
“If they can get the thing to go,” added Brandon. “But it’s rather strange. Here we are busting along with every stitch of canvas drawing, and they haven’t a breath of wind. The sea’s as smooth as glass a mile ahead.”
As far as the Kestrel was concerned the breeze held strong and true until she drew within a hundred yards of the Cornish Sea Scouts’ craft. Then the wind failed utterly. In the grip of the now adverse tide both yachts began to lose ground. Ahead and only three miles away lay the Solent—looking alluring and peaceful in the rays of the late afternoon sun. Without the aid of a steady and favourable breeze or that of a powerful motor the two yachts were not likely to gain their desired harbour during the next six hours.
Keeping her now useless canvas set, the Kestrel dropped anchor. The Merlin continued to drift until she came abreast of the Aberstour Sea Scouts’ craft; then she, too, let go her anchor.
“You were lucky to carry a breeze so long,” shouted the Patrol Leader of the Merlin. “We’ve been becalmed for quite two hours. We got within a quarter of a mile of the lighthouse when the tide changed. Look where we are now!”
“Why didn’t you use your motor?” asked Craddock.
“We haven’t been able to get the thing going,” was the reply. “We’ve been trying all day, and we haven’t given up hope yet, although we do feel a bit fed up.”
“Can I give you a hand?” asked Peter, who possessed a sound knowledge of internal combustion engines.