On the following morning the curiosity of everyone interested in the mystery of the Ocean Bride was satisfied by Mr. Collinson, who was well enough to relate his adventures.

"There is really very little to tell," he began. "As you heard from my wife, I was on the yacht off Ryde, having arranged to go ashore about nine. Just before seven I noticed that it looked a bit dirty to wind\'ard. In my interest in various small jobs I had to do on board, I had quite forgotten to look at the barometer. When at length I did, I saw that it had fallen nearly half an inch since the morning.

"Since the anchorage I was in is a very exposed one, and I was riding to my own anchor instead of picking up a stout mooring, I decided that the best thing to do was to make for Wootton Creek. Portsmouth was dead to wind\'ard, Cowes didn\'t seem an enticing proposition, since it was a foul tide for the next two hours. And every yachtsman who knows the Solent realizes what Cowes Harbour, crowded as it is during the summer, is like in a northerly gale.

"So I hoisted sail, broke out the anchor, and got under way not a moment too soon. It was then about half-past eight, and the wind had piped up considerably.

"Of course my luck was out. When off Binstead the dinghy\'s painter parted. I didn\'t realize my loss until I saw the little boat drifting shoreward a good quarter of a mile astern."

"You lost her, then," remarked Mr. Graham.

"Yes, only temporarily, I hope," was the reply. "Of course, I put about and tried to pick her up, but by that time she was close to the edge of the mud. I had no wish to risk getting the yacht aground on a lee shore, so I put about again and carried on. I noticed some fishermen on the beach, so they no doubt have got hold of her.

"It did not take long to fetch the entrance to Wootton Creek. In fact, I was too early. There wasn\'t enough water for Ocean Bride—she draws six feet two—so I had to anchor.

"At ten o\'clock, or thereabouts, I prepared to go in under power. It was still sufficiently light for me to discern the beacons, although down below it was almost dark. I suppose I must have accidentally advanced the ignitor lever, for, at the first pull of the starting-handle, the motor back-fired. She had never done so before, and I never anticipated her acting in that manner. So much so that I did not take the simple precaution of keeping my thumb underneath the handle.

"The result was a crack that knocked me silly. I suppose I must have fainted. Then, when I pulled myself together a bit, I found out what the damage was. My only course was to signal for assistance. I trusted to the NC flags, meaning to try a flash lamp if they failed to be seen, but your Patrol Leader tells me he got the signal all right. What I was afraid of was my anchor dragging."

"As a matter of fact it did, sir," remarked Desmond; "but Mr. Graham hauled it aboard, and we got away in the yacht just in time."

"How about your dinghy?" inquired the Scoutmaster. "If you like we will fetch her for you."

"I\'d be awfully pleased if you would," replied Mr. Collinson gratefully. "The men who picked her up will want payment, naturally, but I hope I shan\'t have to be bothered with formalities with the Receiver of Wrecks. I loathe that sort of business."

So during the forenoon, at about three hours before high water, Mr. Graham, Desmond, Bedford, and Hayes went off in their dinghy, leaving Ted Coles on board the guardship to act as cook, and Jock Findlay as officer of the watch.

It was a beautiful day for the trip—a calm sea with a light off-shore breeze. Rowing steadily and without undue haste and exertion, the Sea Scouts took a little less than an hour to make Binstead Hard.

There were a few boats hauled up on the beach, but nothing resembling the Ocean Bride\'s dinghy. A little way along the shore was a fisherman mending his nets.

To him went Mr. Graham. The Scoutmaster "knew the ropes ". Instead of asking: "Have you seen or heard anything of a dinghy?" he opened the conversation by stating:

"We\'ve come for the white dinghy that drove ashore here at about nine o\'clock on the night before last."

"O-ay!" replied the man. "She be in t\'boathouse over yonder back along. Me an\' my mate picked her up, knowin\' as \'ow you\'d be up along soon. If you hadn\'t, Garge—him\'s my mate, you\'ll understand—was a-goin\' into Ryde to report to the coast-guards."

The old fisherman led the way to a tumble-down shed. Unlocking the door he disclosed the truant.

"Is she damaged?" asked Mr. Graham.

"Not so much as a bit o\' paint scraped off, sir," was the reply. "Me an\' my mate just waded in—above our knees it wur—an\' lifted her over the stones."

"Well, what do we owe you?" inquired the Scoutmaster, when the Sea Scouts had lifted the light dinghy and carried her to the water\'s edge.

"Leave it to you, sir," suggested the fisherman, with the wiliness of his class.

"I wouldn\'t if I were you," rejoined Mr. Graham, with equal guile. "You might be very disappointed if you did. Now, come on. What do you think is a reasonable sum for the trouble to which you have been placed?"

"Dunno, I\'m sure, sir," replied the old man, scratching his head as he strove to solve the problem. Then, seized with an inspiration, he added: "I\'ll call my mate. He\'ll know."

The old fellow glanced up and down the shore, and then regarded the expanse of sea with a watery eye, as if he were looking for his far-distant partner.

"Garge!" he bawled. "Where be to?"

With uncanny suddenness a hulking giant in jersey, heavy cloth trousers, and sea-boots, appeared in a gap in the brushwood that grew almost down to the water\'s edge. Evidently pal Garge meant to be on the spot—an unseen listener if his partner succeeded in "touching the gent handsomely" or an active participator in any bargaining that might ensue.

"What be the trouble, Jim?" he asked, with an overacted air of disinterestedness.

"This gen\'l\'man \'ere," replied Jim, "\'as come to fetch the lil\' dinghy. Wot\'s a fair sum to charge \'im for our trouble?"

"\'Tes for you ter say, Jim," declared Garge. "A fair reasonable sum an\' the gen\'l\'man \'ll be only too pleased to square up."

Jim ruminated a good thirty seconds, covertly regarding Mr. Graham with a half averted face.

"Will five quid hurt you?" he asked at length.

"Just the sum as I was a-goin\' to suggest," added Garge promptly.

"It would," replied the Scoutmaster, addressing Jim and ignoring Garge\'s corroboration. "To me five pounds represents two days\' work, and strenuous work at that. Now, tell me: what did you do in picking up the dinghy to warrant a payment of five pounds?"

"It blawed tur\'ble \'ard," declared Jim, in extenuation of his claims.

"And yet the dinghy came ashore undamaged," countered Mr. Graham.

"An\' us went over our knees in water," countered Jim.

"Ay, over our knees in water," repeated Garge, with parrot-like fidelity.

"But you were wearing thigh boots," said Mr. Graham swiftly. "In those conditions you had no inconvenience and certainly no risk. And, what is more to the point, you had the boat and made no attempt to immediately report the matter to the Receiver of Wrecks. Immediately, mind. Those are the official instructions."

"Don\'t be \'ard on a couple o\' pore seafarin\' men, sir," said Jim.

"I don\'t mean to be," replied Mr. Graham. "At the same time I don\'t mean to allow myself to be done. You understand that? Good. Well, here\'s a pound note. That\'s all you\'ll get out of me. Desmond and Bedford, launch the boat and push off."

A few minutes later both dinghies at about five yards abreast were heading for Wootton Creek.

"Only a pound!" exclaimed Mr. Collinson, when the matter was told him. "That was quite reasonable. If it had been me I should have paid whatever the sharks asked. I suppose it\'s a failing of mine."

"Which makes it bad for others who cannot afford to pay through the nose," rejoined Mr. Graham. "Fortunately, I know the ways of the longshore-men, and Messrs. James Jell and George Grainger have the reputation of being the biggest rascals amongst the boatmen of the Island. I found that out before we went for the dinghy. They had to clear out from Ventnor on account of a very shady transaction, and at Sea View they narrowly escaped prosecution for stealing gear from another boatman."

"I\'ve been talking matters over with my wife," said Mr. Collinson, abruptly changing the subject. "Naturally I don\'t want to thrust myself upon you longer than I can possibly help. And I\'m not at all keen upon going into apartments for the next six weeks. I came down here to be afloat, and I jolly well mean to be afloat, a broken arm notwithstanding." The Scoutmaster nodded gravely.

"You\'re not intruding upon us," he said. "What we did was up to us as Scouts."

"I do not doubt that," rejoined Mr. Collinson. "But tell me: your lads wear the Southend-on-Sea shoulder-straps; what brings you down to this part of the south coast?"

Mr. Graham explained.

"Then you haven\'t a—er—guardship, I think you call it, of your own?"

"No; but we have an ex-naval boat," replied Mr. Graham. "My lads get a good deal of fun and instruction out of her."

"Centre-board?" inquired Mr. Collinson, with the interest of a typical yachtsman in nautical matters.

"No, unfortunately," admitted the Scoutmaster. "It limits us, of course; but half a loaf\'s better than no bread. At least we\'ve something to go afloat in, and she isn\'t such a bad sort of craft."

"To-morrow," announced Mr. Collinson, "my wife and I are going on board our yacht. We intend to use her as a house-boat until I\'m fit again. In this sheltered creek there will be no difficulty about getting ashore, and my wife can manage the dinghy quite well. If you wouldn\'t mind mooring the Ocean Bride about a cable\'s-length astern of you I\'ll be most grateful."

"Certainly," agreed Mr. Graham, "and if, while we are here, I or any of my lads can be of service to you, don\'t hesitate to ask."

"How long do you propose staying here?" asked Mr. Collinson.

Mr. Graham looked up sharply. He fancied he saw a twinkle in the questioner\'s eye.

"Until the end of August, I hope."

"Is there any reason why you should not alter your plans?" continued the persistent inquisitor.

"\'Man proposes——\'" quoted the Scoutmaster.

"Quite so," agreed Mr. Collinson. "I too have a proposal to make. As I remarked before, my wife and I have been talking things over. We feel that we are greatly in your debt for what you have done for us, and we wish to make some sort of acknowledgment of our gratitude."

"But——" protested Mr. Graham.

"Let me have my say," persisted the other. "My proposition is this: I have a nine-ton yawl, the Spindrift, lying at Bude, on the north coast of Cornwall. I don\'t suppose I\'ll ever sail her again now I have the Ocean Bride. I\'m not particularly keen on selling her. If I advertise her there are pages and pages of correspondence before the deal\'s completed—and I hate writing business letters. So what do you say to this? I will hand her over absolutely to the 9th Southend Sea Scouts, but you must navigate her round either to the Solent or else the East Coast, whichever you prefer."

"I\'ll be only too pleased to accept your kind offer," said Mr. Graham.

"Good," rejoined Mr. Collinson. "I thought you would. Now then, let\'s go into details."