At the first streak of dawn the Olivette slipped her moorings and made for the open sea. It was an ideal daybreak. Not a ripple disturbed the slate-grey surface of the water, save the even wake caused by the steadily moving boat. The sky was grey; the dawn was grey. Even the verdant hills of the Isle of Wight looked grey where they were faintly visible through the light mist.

"It\'s going to be a scorching hot day," declared Woodleigh.

"Fine weather," added Flemming. "The glass is high and steady."

"I hope it will be rough," said Hayes.

"You\'ll be sorry for yourself if it is," said Woodleigh. "Take my tip and be thankful it is fine. Rough weather is all very fine if you\'ve a sound boat and a sheltered harbour close under your lee. The fellow who puts to sea because it looks like being rough is simply asking for trouble. If you\'re obliged to that\'s a different matter."

"But isn\'t the Olivette a sound boat? And has she ever been out in a storm?" asked Hayes.

"Of course she\'s a sound boat," declared the Patrol Leader stoutly. "Yes, we\'ve been out in a storm. The starboard window of the wheelhouse—thick plate-glass—was stove in by a wave. We got into port with about a foot of water over the engine-room floor. Yes, I\'ve had some and I\'m not asking for any more, thank you."

By this time the Olivette had ported helm and was passing through Hurst Race. Although there was no wind the rush of the west-going tide was very much in evidence. Irregular, crested waves were rearing their heads menacingly within a well-defined area. Everywhere else the sea was as smooth as a mill-pond. "North Channel, Woodleigh?" asked Rayburn, who was at the wheel.

"No, Needles Channel," was the reply. "It will give the others a chance of seeing the western end of The Wight. Close that window, old son, or we\'ll be getting wet shirts."

"What causes the Race?" asked Jock Findlay.

"Strong tide over uneven ground," explained Woodleigh. "Just here is a deep hole, nearly two hundred feet. It\'s the greatest depth between the Isle of Wight and the mainland, although this is the shortest distance between. The tide has to tumble through the neck of a bottle, as it were, and in the process it gets a bit angry."

Totland Bay was soon abeam, then the Southend Sea Scouts feasted their eyes upon the multi-coloured cliffs of Alum Bay, until their attention was attracted by the Needles and the outlying lighthouse, backed by the towering cliffs of glistening chalk that form the western extremity of the Isle of Wight.

Clear of the Bridge a course was shaped to pass four miles south of Portland Bill. This meant being a considerable distance from the picturesque Dorset coast between Old Harry and The Bill; but, as Mr. Armitage remarked, time was an object, and, if the Olivette were to make Plymouth the same day, she could not afford to skirt the coastline simply with the idea of giving the guests an opportunity to enjoy the scenery.

Still carrying her tide the Olivette made good progress. Early in the forenoon a light easterly breeze sprang up, but since the speed of the boat was about equal to that of the wind there was no tempering coolness to be derived from it. The only apparent result was to throw up a long, low swell that made the Olivette roll considerably.

"There\'s Portland Race, lads," announced Mr. Armitage, pointing to a dark-coloured patch of water on the starboard beam and to the south\'ard of the wedge-shaped Bill. "It\'s one of the worst parts off the South Coast."

"Have you ever been through it, sir?" asked Hayes.

"No; and I don\'t want to, thank you," was the reply. "I\'ve been inside it, which is quite a different matter. When you fellows bring the Spindrift up-Channel I\'d advise you to keep outside it. Inside is all right if you work your tides, but in this district of topsy-turvydom in the matter of tides there\'s an important thing to remember about Portland Bill. For nine hours out of twelve the current sets south\'ard on both sides of the Bill, so that, if you were in a sailing craft and were unable to stem the tide, you would be swept into the Race itself."

"And what would happen, sir, if a boat did get carried into it?" persisted Hayes.

"Swamped," replied the Scoutmaster laconically.

"So don\'t try it, Hayes," added Mr. Graham.

"I believe I can hear the Race," declared Findlay.

"Yes," agreed Woodleigh, "you can. We\'ve heard it miles away on a calm night. It\'s not a pleasant sound."

Half an hour later the Olivette entered West Bay. This expanse of water was living up to its reputation as a bay of calms—except when it is rough. Like the little girl with the curl in the middle of her forehead:
"When it is good
It is very, very good;
But when it is bad
It is horrid."

The breeze had died away, and the water was an almost boundless expanse of gentle rollers. The Bill was almost lost in the haze, the high ground behind Lyme Regis and Bridport was entirely hidden in the warm, misty atmosphere. A large yawl bound west was lying becalmed, her white sails shaking from the yards as she wallowed in the swell. Her crew were lying unconcernedly on the deck and hardly noticed the Olivette; but her owner, seated in a deck-chair aft, raised his glasses and kept the Sea Scouts under observation.

"Bet he\'s a bit sick that he hasn\'t a motor," remarked Hayes.

"Don\'t crow," exclaimed Desmond. "This isn\'t our boat. We may be in the same plight when we bring the Spindrift across West Bay."

Half an hour later the yawl was hull down, her idle canvas showing faintly against the blue sky.

"I say," suddenly exclaimed Jock Findlay. "That\'s a long way from shore for a small boat, isn\'t it?"

He pointed to a rowing boat about half a mile on the Olivette\'s port bow.

"It\'s a dinghy with a man in her," reported Woodleigh. "He\'s not rowing. He may be fishing, but I hardly think so. Shall we run alongside, sir?"

"Yes, do," replied Mr. Armitage. "If he\'s all right there\'s no harm done. If he\'s in difficulties we may be able to do him a good turn."

"Starboard ten," ordered the Milford Patrol Leader, addressing Flemming, who was at the wheel.

The Olivette was now heading straight for the drifti............