“ ’Tany rate, you’ve done a very Good Turn,” declared Mr. Pendennis. “We’ll try and return it by giving the Kestrel a tow. I don’t say that we’ll succeed against this tide, but we’ll have a good shot at it.”
The Falmouth Scoutmaster hailed the Kestrel.
“I say, Grant!” he exclaimed. “We’re going to give you a tow. Do you know your way in? I don’t, except for the directions in the ‘Channel Pilot’; but which is Fort Victoria? Look here, do you mind coming on board and piloting us?”
Mr. Grant accepted the invitation. Craddock returned to the Kestrel, and preparations were made to pass a hawser from the Merlin to the other yacht. Both anchors were weighed simultaneously and the strenuous effort began.
Slowly yet surely the two vessels approached Hurst Channel. Ahead could be seen a confused turmoil of broken sea as the pent-up water of the Solent forced its way through the narrow passage between Hurst Castle and the Isle of Wight.
It was now that local knowledge came in most usefully. Except for one point ominously named “The Trap,” the beach at Hurst Castle is steep-to, the depth increasing to fifteen fathoms within a few yards of the shore. By keeping close in, Mr. Grant knew that the full force of the tide would not only be avoided, but that there would also be found a tidal eddy in their favour.
“You can rely upon the motor, I hope?” he enquired. “If it should go wrong, we’ll find ourselves in a very dangerous situation.”
Receiving an assurance on that point, Mr. Grant ordered the helm to be starboarded a little.
Gradually the slow progress increased until, aided by the counter-current, the Merlin and the Kestrel seemed to jump ahead. They were now within their own length of the beach. Ahead lay “The Trap,” and off it a broiling tide which, if it caught the Merlin on her port bow, would swing her out into the full strength of the ebb.
Edging cautiously, the Merlin approached the crucial spot. She appeared to stop dead. The strain on the towing hawser eased. The Kestrel continued to decrease her distance, making straight for the dangerous ledge. To Brandon at the helm it seemed as if a titanic hand was gripping the keel and shaking the whole boat. He could do nothing. The rudder seemed useless, and yet the yacht was heading for destruction.