By the first post on Saturday morning came a letter from the yacht chandlers at Bude, stating that the Spindrift would be launched forthwith and handed over whenever her new owners came for her.

The rest of that morning was a busy one. Not only had the usual routine of "clearing up and squaring off" to be carried out, but preparations had to be made for the commencement of the journey to Bude on the following Monday. In addition, Mr. Collinson had arranged to shift his quarters from the guardship to the Ocean Bride, and the yacht had to be moored securely astern.

It was quite a difficult operation to place the yacht on her new berth and keep her there. Owing to the narrowness of the channel at low water, and to the fact that a clear passage had to be left for other craft, the Ocean Bride had to be moored fore and aft close to the mud on the starboard hand of the creek. If she were allowed to swing she would obstruct the fairway, while to moor her fore and aft required tackle of sufficient strength to withstand the hardest wind likely to be encountered full on her beam.

Just below high-water mark the Sea Scouts drove in two sets of stout piles, each three in number, with one placed about four feet in the wake of the other two. Each set was ninety feet from the other. These comprised the shore moorings.

The yacht was then dropped astern of the guardship, her main anchor having been previously laid out in the stiff mud on the port side of the channel. To the mooring on the starboard side, corresponding with the anchor, a four-inch warp was run out from the yacht\'s bows, the end of the rope being wound round the three piles and "racked back", so that each of the piles bore approximately an equal strain.

As the tide was now ebbing the yacht rode to both the chain cable and the warp.

"Now, lads!" exclaimed the Scoutmaster. "That\'s done the trick as far as the ebb affects the yacht. All that remains is to make provision for the flood-tide, otherwise she\'ll swing, which is what she mustn\'t do." At Mr. Graham\'s direction a spare length of chain, about fifteen fathoms in length, was shackled to the kedge and the latter "run out" on the yacht\'s port quarter; while a three-inch warp led from the starboard quarter to the second group of piles. Stationing one Sea Scout at each of the chains and warps, the Scoutmaster gave the necessary directions until the yacht was moved into the desired position close to the edge of the channel.

"Now she cannot possibly shift more than two or three feet," he announced. "No matter the direction of the wind or tide, she\'ll be held securely. That\'s what is meant by mooring fore and aft. Now, can any of you fellows tell me if this particular job is finished off properly?"

Desmond and Findlay thought that it was and said so. Bedford, Hayes, and Coles thought so too, but made no audible comment.

"Look at those two chains," continued Mr. Graham. "They are stretching across the fairway. True, they sag under their own weight, but if the wind comes in at all hard from the east\'ard they\'ll show above the surface. Even now I doubt whether they are more than three of four feet down. A vessel coming up to Wootton Bridge would be almost certain to foul them."

"Then we\'ll have to give her a bit more chain, sir," suggested Findlay.

"Which means that she\'ll drift closer to the bank," added Mr. Graham. "At high tide she\'ll touch the mud, then when the tide falls she\'ll heel over almost on her beam ends. I\'m sure Mr. and Mrs. Collinson wouldn\'t appreciate that."

"Can\'t we weight the chains with something, sir?" asked Ted Coles.

"That\'s the game," agreed the Scoutmaster. "We\'ll have to get a couple of pigs of ballast and lash them to the bight of each chain. Ask Mr. Collinson if he has any short lengths of wire rope on board, Desmond; if not, we\'ll have to use rope, although it\'s not so suitable as wire."

"There\'s some on the for\'ard port locker in the fo\'c\'sle," said Mr. Collinson, who had been sitting in the cockpit and watching the Sea Scouts\' activities with marked approval.

The Patrol Leader went below and returned with three short lengths of flexible wire.

"Now for the pigs of ballast," exclaimed Jock Findlay.

"Be careful," cautioned Mr. Graham. "They weigh about a hundredweight, and we\'ve got to take them in the dinghy. Two hands will be enough."

The dinghy was brought alongside. Across her gunwale, and partly supported by the transom, was placed a one-inch board, over which was folded a piece of canvas to protect the varnish work from rust and mud.

"Get in for\'ard, Hayes," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Jock, you get in aft and follow my directions carefully. There\'s no need for haste, and remember if you bungle you\'ll probably swamp the boat."

Meanwhile, Desmond and Bedford had hoisted one pig of ballast on to the yacht\'s deck by means of a double sling. The next operation was to transfer the heavy lump of iron from the yacht to the board in the stern of the dinghy. This was accomplished by means of the starboard runners.

"Now work along the chain, Findlay," continued Mr. Graham. "At that," he added, when about ten feet of chain rested on the board by the side of the pig of ballast.

Jock\'s next task was to lash the ballast to the chain, which he did by reeving the wire through a hole at each end of the pig and taking it round the chain, repeating the operation at least half a dozen times and finishing off with a reef-knot.

"Give way, Pat," ordered the Scoutmaster.

Hayes plied his oars vigorously. The dinghy gathered way. Slowly the chain tautened, and then the pig of ballast began to slide over the board, until, assisted by a vigorous push by Findlay, the mass of iron disappeared beneath the surface.

The chain, instead of taking a gentle curve, now dipped steeply, the additional weight causing the bight to lie upon the bottom of the channel.

"Now, that cable is not in anyone\'s way," explained the Scoutmaster. "Spell-ho for all hands for five minutes! You\'ve earned it."

The short interval for rest was quickly over. Then the chain on the yacht\'s port quarter had to be treated in a similar manner.

This time the Sea Scouts carried out the work without any directions from their Scoutmaster, the Patrol Leader superintending the operation. Mr. Graham was keen on encouraging initiative in his lads, and on this occasion, as on many others, he had no cause to find fault. Everything had gone without a hitch, except, as Findlay remarked, the hitches on the cable. This done, the Sea Scouts returned to the guardship for dinner.

"Look, sir!" exclaimed Hayes, pointing with a rust-stained finger in the direction of the entrance to the creek. "There\'s a motor-boat coming right up. We\'ve only just finished in time."

"Yes," agreed Mr. Graham. "She\'s a fairly big craft, too. She\'ll test our work for us."

Desmond had picked up a telescope, and was examining the on-coming vessel.

"Why, sir!" he announced. "She\'s a Sea Scout boat. At least she\'s manned by Sea Scouts. I wonder what she\'s doing here?"

"The creek\'s free to anybody," rejoined Findlay. "We\'re not the only Sea Scouts. I expect they\'ll land at the Bridge."

Meanwhile Mr. Graham had been making good use of his binoculars.

"I\'ve seen that craft before," he remarked. "Only she was painted grey. I may be mistaken, but I don\'t think so."

He returned the glasses to their case and picked up his peaked cap.

"Fall in on the quarter-deck, lads," he ordered. "Smartly, now; stand by to give them a full salute when they pass."

The Sea Scouts took up their position as directed, standing easy until the Scoutmaster gave the order: "Alert!"

"She\'s slowing down, sir," said Findlay.

"\'Cause they don\'t want to swamp the dinghy with their wash," explained Desmond. "They\'ve passed over the Ocean Bride\'s chains all right."

On board the on-coming craft a Scoutmaster and three Sea Scouts were visible on deck. They were showing no signs of coming to attention. One of the crew was handling a warp up for\'ard, while another was coiling up a rope on the aft-deck. It was not until a third hung out a couple of fenders, and stood by with a boat-hook, that the crew of the guardship realized that the motor-boat was coming alongside.

"Dismiss!" ordered Mr. Graham. "Stand by to take their warps."

With her motor running free with the clutch out, the boat lost way, coming alongside so gently that only the faintest "touch astern" was necessary.

The two Scoutmasters saluted.

"Come aboard!" exclaimed Mr. Graham. "I\'ve met you before, I think. My name\'s Graham."

"And mine is Armitage," rejoined the other. "Is Mr. Tweedie aboard?"

"Sorry, he\'s not," replied Mr. Graham. "He\'s over in France with his troop."

Scoutmaster Armitage had been glancing at the shoulder-straps of the temporary crew of the guardship.

"Southend-on-Sea," he remarked. "We hardly expected to find East Coast Sea Scouts down this part of the world."

Mr. Graham explained.

"Bring your crew aboard, too," he added. "They might like to have a look round."

"That is precisely what we came for," said Mr. Armitage with a laugh. "We\'d heard about the Wootton Bridge Sea Scouts\' guardship, and we made up our minds to have a run across to inspect her. Our craft is the Olivette, and we hail from Milford-on-Sea. You say you met me before, eh? I\'m afraid I cannot recollect the circumstances."

"You were very, very tired," explained Mr. Graham. "It was at Brightlingsea two years ago last May. One of your lads, Woodby——"

"Woodleigh," corrected Mr. Armitage.

"Yes, Woodleigh. I remember he brought the Olivette into Brightlingsea in a hard blow. You\'d had rather a rough time in the Thames estuary. I happened to be at Brightlingsea at the time."

"Of course, I remember now," replied Mr. Armitage. "Two years ago! How time flies! Yes, I still have Woodleigh. He\'s a Patrol Leader now. Did you recollect Stratton? He\'s at sea, doing well."

Meanwhile the crews of the two vessels were fraternizing, and both craft were visited and inspected.

"She\'s a lump of a boat," declared Patrol Leader Woodleigh to his opposite number, Desmond. "It\'s a pity you can\'t go to sea in her. You miss a lot. We\'ve been across to France, and as far west as Penzance. On Monday we\'re off to Plymouth."

"Yes," admitted Desmond. "I agree. A stationary guardship isn\'t like a sea-going boat, but still there\'s lots of fun to be got out of her. She\'s only lent us, as you know; but we\'re in luck. You see that yacht just astern of us? Her owner has given us a yacht almost as large as she."

"Good business!" exclaimed Woodleigh approvingly. "Motor?"

"No, sail."

"H\'m, s\'pose it\'s all right," rejoined the confirmed marine engine expert. "Pity she hasn\'t an engine, though. It saves an awful lot of fag if there\'s no wind. Where is she?"

"At Bude."

"Where\'s that?"

"North coast of Cornwall. We—that is, Mr. Graham, Findlay, Hayes, and myself—are going by train to Exeter and hiking it across Dartmoor to Bude. It\'ll be rather good sport, eh?"

"Rather," agreed Woodleigh. "I don\'t know about the hiking part, though. Never was very keen on tramping—much prefer being afloat. We\'re going down to Plymouth to tow back a dinghy for a friend of Mr. Armitage."

"Wouldn\'t it be cheaper to send a small boat like that by rail?" asked Desmond.

"I don\'t know about that," answered Woodleigh. "You see, we have as much paraffin given us as we want. It\'s a paraffin engine, you know; and when Mr. Murgatroyd—he\'s the gentleman who made us a present of the Olivette—handed over the boat, he arranged for us to have paraffin free, so we\'ve only to buy petrol for starting up and oil for lubricating. And fetching that dinghy means going somewhere with a definite object. We\'d be cruising in any case, so now we are going to do a good turn. Have you ever been down the West Coast?"

Desmond shook his head.

"Only on the East Coast—Southend and Harwich way."

"Don\'t think much of that part," said Woodleigh. "Too jolly flat. But perhaps it wasn\'t up to sample when we were there in the Olivette. You should see Devon and Cornwall—the coast especially. Why, I think there\'s nothing to touch them anywhere in England for scenery and good harbours. Look here, I\'ve got a scheme. Couldn\'t you all come down to Plymouth with us? That would save you a long railway journey, and you needn\'t have so far to tramp. What do you say?"

"Of course I\'d like it," replied Desmond, "but——"

"I\'ll ask our Scoutmaster," interrupted Woodleigh. "He\'ll be only too pleased. Hello, Flemming, old son, I was just saying that these fellows ought to go down-Channel with us. I\'m just off to ask Mr. Armitage."

"Save yourself the fag, my festive," rejoined Eric Flemming, Woodleigh\'s special chum. "Mr. Armitage has asked Mr. Graham already. You fellows have just an hour and a half to get ready," he added, addressing the Patrol Leader of the Southend Sea Scouts. "You\'re coming back to Keyhaven with us, and we\'re putting you up on board."