CHAPTER XII

"In the Ditch"

The French Scouts remained on board for another half-hour. They inspected and were duly impressed by the _Olivette_ and her equipment; they exchanged confidences with their brother Sea Scouts, to whom difference of nationality counted for little as far as the Universal Brotherhood of Scouts went. Before they took their departure, the French boy's invited the _Olivette's_ crew to a picnic at Equeurdreville--a seaside hamlet a few miles to the west of Cherbourg--on the following morning.

"I do not think we shall be able to accept," said Peter. "We are sailing for Havre early to-morrow, if all's well."

One of the French Patrol Leaders shrugged his shoulders and threw out the palms of his hands in a characteristic Gallic attitude.

"I do not think you vill sail," he remarked.

"Why not?" asked Stratton.

The lad pointed in the direction of Fort l'Onglet, above which a cone, point uppermost, had been hoisted to the yard-arm of a mast.

"_Regardez bien!_" he exclaimed.

Mr. Armitage, following the direction of the French Patrol Leader's outstretched finger, noted the signal. It meant that bad weather--a gale from the nor'ard--was approaching. If any confirmation were necessary the barometer proved it. The glass had fallen four-tenths in less than a couple of hours.

"There's one thing," observed Stratton, after the visitors had taken their departure. "It's one of those short, sharp summer gales:

'Long foretold, long last, Short warning, soon past'.

It's a good thing we're in a secure harbour."

Flemming made a wry face.

"It's too much of a good thing," he protested. "I've never, never been in a basin before, and this one's quite enough. Doesn't it whiff?"

"It does," admitted Peter. "Now you come to mention it, there is an odour of sorts."

"And those little bounders the French ragamuffins," continued Eric. "The stuff lying on the decks is only a small part of what they threw. I cleared up three times before the Cherbourg Scouts came upon the scene and chased them off. Hello, what's this coming?"

The lock gates were open and a large tramp steamer was being warped into the Bassin-à-Flot. From where the _Olivette_ lay, the steamer's stern was masked by the rise of her deckhouse and bridge, but the ensign was just visible--a dirty, wind-frayed, coal-grimed piece of red bunting with a Union Jack in the upper quarter next the staff.

That nondescript piece of bunting meant something real to the British Sea Scouts. Even though they had not long left their native shores they were already fully aware that they were strangers in a foreign land, but here was a bit of England--technically British soil although afloat--and the sight of it was cheering.

The harbourmaster, purple with incoherent shouting, hurried along the quay-side, waving his arms and pointing frenziedly at the on-coming tramp.

"What does he want?" exclaimed Hepburn.

"I rather fancy he wants us to shift," remarked Peter.

The Patrol Leader's surmise was confirmed by a voice hailing from the tramp's bridge.

"Ahoy, there!" shouted a short, thick-set, jovial-looking officer clad in a salt-stained serge uniform. "Can you drop astern a couple of lengths?"

"Ay, ay," replied Peter, and in a very short time the _Olivette's_ warps were cast off and the boat tracked aft along the quay.

When the _Acacis_--for that was the tramp's name--was safely berthed, the officer who had hailed the _Olivette_ came aft.

"Thanks!" he exclaimed. "You Sea Scouts know your job, I can see."

"Thank you," replied Peter. "May we come aboard you and have a look round?"

"Right-o," was the reply.

The skipper of the _Acacis_--bound from Cardiff to Cherbourg and Le Havre--made the Sea Scouts right welcome. It was, for the majority of them, the first opportunity they had had of "looking over" a big vessel.

"Yes, it'll blow before night," the skipper observed in answer to Peter's question. "We struck it pretty bad off the Longships, and right across the Channel there was a tidy roll on. That generally means a bit of a blow. You'll be here for the best part of a week, I'll allow."

The Sea Scouts showed no enthusiasm over this piece of information. Flemming was positively downhearted.

"Look here," suggested the _Acacis_' Old Man, when he learnt of the unwelcome attentions of the Cherbourg gamins, "why not lie alongside of us? You'll get a tidy bit of coal-dust, but that's a jolly sight better than cabbage-stalks and dead cats dumped on your deck."

The offer was gladly accepted. The _Olivette's_ bow-warp was passed on board the tramp and the boat hauled alongside the _Acacis_' starboard side. Sheltered by the latter vessel's towering hull, the _Olivette_ was no longer a target for the ragamuffins of the port.

As the skipper had predicted, it blew hard at sunset, the gale continuing all the following day, accompanied by heavy showers. But the _Olivette_ was in snug shelter, the basin being completely landlocked, while the rain did not prevent the Sea Scouts enjoying the hospitality of their French friends.

At length the storm moderated, and on the fourth day the sea had subsided sufficiently to enable the _Olivette_ to resume her voyage. The _Acacis_, having discharged a portion of her cargo, was also due to leave Cherbourg for Le Havre. Directly the gates of the Bassin-à-Flot were opened, the _Olivette_ motored through into the Avant-Port. Here she tied up, for it was inadvisable to make a start for the east'ard before half-ebb. By so doing the _Olivette_ would "carry her tide" for eight or nine hours, and as the tides run strongly off the French coast, the question of "working them" was an important one.

Mr. Armitage had to obtain clearance papers and lay in sundry stores, so that the time was not wasted, and when the _Olivette_ headed seaward, the _Acacis_ was steaming through the East Channel.

"We've about one knot advantage in speed," remarked the Scoutmaster, "but we'll slow down a bit and let her pilot us. It's rather a dangerous bit of coast between here and Cape Levi. Look at that broken water. Anyone would think that there was a gale raging off that point, but it's merely a tidal race."

Dead in the wake of the tramp, and about a cable's length astern, the _Olivette_ kept. At intervals members of the _Acacis_' crew semaphored jocular messages to the Sea Scouts, to which the latter replied with the greatest zest.

About five miles beyond Cape Barfleur the _Olivette_ overtook a French fishing smack. One of the crew of the latter, noticing that the Sea Scouts were semaphoring, attempted to send them a message.

"Dashed if I can make out what that fellow is saying," exclaimed Hepburn with a puzzled look. "Can you, Reggie?"

Warkworth shook his head. He was reckoned to be a good signaller, but the Frenchman's semaphoring was beyond him.

"I'm not surprised," said Peter. "The French system is different from ours. Don't you remember when we were at Dover----"

The Patrol Leader's reminiscence was interrupted by a warning shout from old Tom Boldrigg, who was in his favourite post as look-out man. Simultaneously the _Acacis_ put her helm over to starboard, while a white object was hurled from her port quarter.

"Man overboard," shouted Boldrigg. "A hand from the tramp's in the ditch."

Mr. Armitage opened the window of the wheel-house and warned Roche to stand by with his reversing-lever.

"There he is!" exclaimed Peter. "A point on our port bow."

"Easy ahead!" ordered the Scoutmaster, then "Stop!"

The _Olivette_ was now within fifty yards of the man, who was swimming towards the buoy. It was evident that he was not a good swimmer. He was splashing violently, and making very little headway in proportion to the energy he displayed, and already his strength was diminishing. It was a question whether he might succeed in gaining the buoy before he became exhausted.

Flemming, Woodleigh, and Warkworth ran for'ard, the former with a boat-hook and the others with life-lines. Eric shouted encouragement to the swimmer, and for the first time the man seemed conscious of the approach of the _Olivette_.

"He's almost done for!" exclaimed Woodleigh.

The time taken by the _Olivette_ to approach the man seemed interminable, but as there was a considerable "lop" on, Mr. Armitage dare not risk holding on at any speed for fear of running down the swimmer. The Scoutmaster was manoeuvring to bring the boat to a standstill dead in the eye of the wind and close to the man. Once the _Olivette_ got broadside on to the wind she would be swept far to leeward of the swimmer, and lose valuable time before she could again get within close distance.

Flemming held the boat-hook stave towards the man, but the latter had not the strength to grasp the ash pole. Before the Sea Scout could reverse the boat-hook and catch the swimmer with the metal hook, the man was beyond reach.

Warkworth hurled a line, but the rope being new, the coils failed to free themselves, and the bight fell short.

Without hesitation, Woodleigh leapt into the sea, taking one end of the line with him.

Half a dozen strokes brought him to the man, who was actually on the point of sinking. The fact that his chums were holding on to the end of the rope gave Woodleigh confidence. Regardless of the risk of being clutched by a drowning man, Will allowed himself to be caught in a desperate grip. Down he went, rescuer and rescued in a mutual embrace; then the line tautened, and in another fifteen seconds willing hands grasped the plucky Scout and his now almost senseless burden and hauled them into safety.

Woodleigh, none the worse for his immersion, beyond the fact that he had swallowed a good half-pint of salt water, went below to change his clothes. Flemming, Hepburn, and Warkworth attended to the rescued man, who was now quite insensible.

Meanwhile, the _Acacis_ had starboarded helm and reversed her engines. Her skipper had seen that the _Olivette_ was proceeding to the rescue, and, having witnessed the successful issue of the attempt, had given orders for a boat to be lowered to bring the man back.

"Semaphore the _Acacis_, Alan," ordered the Scoutmaster. "Tell them to carry on, and we'll hand over the man at Havre. He's not in a fit state to be moved at present."

The tramp acknowledged the signal, and replied that the arrangement would be most satisfactory; then both vessels, having resumed their former course, headed for the still distant port of Le Havre.

"You managed that awfully well, sir," exclaimed Peter.

"Did I?" rejoined Mr. Armitage. "As a matter of fact it was quite an easy matter, because we were in the wake of the tramp. Supposing one of us had fallen overboard, what would you have done?"

"Thrown over a life-belt, sir," replied the Patrol Leader.

"And what then?"

"Gone astern," was the reply.

Mr. Armitage shook his head.

"Never in a light-draughted, single-screwed boat," he declared. "She'd never answer to her helm while going astern, and if the wind were abeam, she'd be blown to lee'ard of the man in the water. Now remember, if there's time, put the boat's helm over so that the boat's stern flies away from the person overboard. That is to avoid hitting him with the propeller, since men who have fallen overboard almost invariably try to swim towards the boat. Then, keeping 'easy ahead', make a complete circle and come up bows on to the man, keeping just enough way for the boat to answer her helm, and still get there quicker and with far more chance of success than by any other way."

"I'll remember that, sir," said Peter. "But I hope I'll never have to try it."

"And I, too," added Mr. Armitage fervently. "But one never knows."