At the appointed time, the Spindrift\'s crew was augmented by the arrival of Bedford and Coles. The new members were delighted with the yacht and her surroundings. The only grievance—if grievance it can be termed—was that their share of the voyage had been shortened by the distance from Plymouth to Dartmouth.

"Well, what\'s the news from Wootton?" inquired Mr. Graham, after the two Sea Scouts had taken in the details of their new acquisition, and had been told of her exciting run round The Land.

"Everything\'s all serene, sir," replied Bedford. "Patrol Leader Bradley has got the rest of the Troop well in hand. Makes them do physical jerks every morning before breakfast. We had to before we came away at nine o\'clock."

"You look very fit, Bedford," said Desmond. "You\'ve worked down a lot of your fat."

"And you haven\'t put any on," retorted Bedford, looking at the lean, weather-beaten features of the Patrol Leader.

"And how are the Collinsons?" asked Mr. Graham.

"Mr. Collinson\'s doing well, sir," replied Bedford "His arm is mending rapidly. He told me the other day that we were so jolly handy that he meant to ship a couple of Sea Scouts on board his yacht instead of a paid hand. When do we start, sir?"

"At daybreak to-morrow," answered the Scoutmaster. "The glass is high and steady, and the weather forecast—if that\'s anything to go by—is for westerly winds of moderate strength. We\'ve a goodish run across West Bay, and I want to be well to the east\'ard of Portland Bill by the early evening."

Grey dawn was appearing over the Devon hills when the crew of the Spindrift turned out.

"Isn\'t it cold for August!" exclaimed Bedford, swinging his arms.

"You\'re cold, eh?" rejoined the Patrol Leader, jumping at the opportunity afforded by Bedford\'s remark. "Right-o; nip below and start up the stove. You\'re cook of the day."

The Sea Scout obeyed readily enough. By the time the rest of the crew had uncoated the mainsail, got the headsail and mizzen ready to hoist, and had broken out and stowed the kedge, the "galley-slave", as Hayes termed the youth told off for cooking meals, reported that hot cocoa was ready.

A large cup of the sustaining beverage and a couple of very hard biscuits provided the "stand-by" to commence the working day, as breakfast was to be served while under way.

The little motor acted admirably, in spite of the cold, starting up at the first swing of the fly-wheel. "All ready?" shouted the Scoutmaster.

"Ay, ay, sir!"

"Heave her up."

The pawls of the winch clattered merrily as the cable came home. Presently the big galvanized anchor appeared above the surface. Findlay promptly caught the gravity-band shackle with the lower block of the handy-billy, and in double quick time the "killick" was secured on deck.

By this time the Spindrift was forging slowly ahead, and the hitherto fully occupied lads had an opportunity of seeing the last of Dartmouth for no doubt a considerable time.

Within the harbour the water was as calm as a millpond, save for the rippling wake of the outward bound yacht. Outside, the sea was dancing under the influence of a light westerly breeze, which promised to grow in strength as the sun rose higher.

Sail was now set, and the engine switched off.

Desmond, as sailing master, told off Hayes for the first two hours at the helm.

"Keep the East Blackstone on your port bow," he cautioned. "When that\'s abeam, we\'ll set a compass course."

"May we fish, sir?" asked Findlay. "We heard last night that there are shoals of mackerel off the East Blackstone."

"Certainly," replied Mr. Graham. "Only take care to keep your hooks clear of the main and mizzen sheets!"

Findlay had brought mackerel hooks and spinners. Quickly two lines were paid out, one on each quarter, Jock tending one and Coles handling the other.

The Spindrift was now moving just at the right speed for this sort of work. In less than a minute a jerk of the line nearly pulled it out of the Tenderfoot\'s hand. Hauling in the line he secured a good-sized fish.

Coles caught a dozen before Findlay hooked his first fish, which puzzled and chagrined the latter considerably.

"Perhaps it\'s because my line is to lee\'ard," suggested Coles. "Take mine, and I\'ll try my luck with yours!"

The exchange was effected, but still Coles was the lucky one. In less than an hour he had secured twenty-one mackerel to Findlay\'s four. Then, contrary to expectation, the breeze died utterly away, and the lines no longer trailed astern.

"We\'ve caught enough, anyway," remarked Findlay, coiling away his lines.

"Yes, mackerel fresh from the salt sea for breakfast," added Desmond. "I\'m jolly glad it\'s not my turn to be cook."

That post on board was no sinecure, and there was no competition for the job; but whoever took it did the work cheerfully and generally well. The Sea Scouts believed in the maxim: "a well fed crew makes a happy ship ".

For the next two hours the Spindrift\'s progress was tediously slow. Breakfast was cooked and eaten, and the plates and dishes washed up and stowed away, before the breeze sprang up; and Berry Head and the red cliffs of Devon were still plainly visible.

"Rather slower than when we passed here last time, sir, in the Olivette," remarked Desmond.

"But we\'ve the best part of the day before us," Mr. Graham reminded him.

"We\'re afloat," declared Bedford. "That\'s the main thing."

He no longer had cause to complain of the cold. The day grew hotter and hotter as the sun rose and the wind dropped, till by ten o\'clock the thermometer in the cabin registered 90 degrees.

So far the Spindrift was not alone. She was in company with nearly twenty Brixham trawlers, all practically drifting. They made a pretty sight, with their huge tanned sails casting shimmering reflections on the gently heaving water.

At noon the wind sprang up again and quickly rose to a fresh sailing breeze from the sou\'-west. Sheets were soon trimmed, and once more the "kick of the helm "—that delightful sensation to keen sailor-men—asserted itself.

It was not until four in the afternoon that Portland Bill became visible. It was now too late to attempt to round the Bill close to and make for Portland Harbour. To have attempted to do so would have resulted in the little craft being swept into the dreaded Race. Accordingly, a course was shaped to pass four miles south of that notorious headland.

As long as the breeze held, there was little to worry about; but should it fail, as it often does towards evening in summer, there was the prospect of another night afloat. Mr. Graham was anxious to make Swanage or even Poole Harbour. He did not hanker after another night in the Channel, but the Sea Scouts rather hoped for one.

The Brixham fleet was no longer in sight. The boats had stood well away to the south\'ard. All around the horizon was unbroken, save to the east\'ard, where the wedge-shaped Bill cut the skyline.

At tea-time all hands went below, with the exception of Bedford at the helm. There was now a fairly heavy sea running, for there was a weather-going tide.

In the midst of the meal there was a violent crash. The yacht heeled ov............