CHAPTER IV

Repayment

This was the reassuring message that Mr. Armitage read. It had a great effect upon the hitherto tired, jaded, and dispirited Sea Scouts. Smiles came back to their bronzed features, and the disappointing cruise in the _Mudlark_ in search of the _Olivette_ was almost forgotten.

"The police have been active too," said Mr. Armitage. "There's been a burglary at Hordle, and a quantity of valuable silver plate stolen. The theory is that the burglars found their way to Keyhaven and embarked on the _Olivette_ with the swag. There's a reward of fifty pounds for the recovery of the missing property."

"I met a couple of fellows about midnight, sir," reported Stratton. "They were carrying a heavy sack, and didn't answer when I said 'Good-night!' Of course, the idea never entered my head that they were going to steal the _Olivette_."

"And they went westward," added Hepburn. "All the time we thought they were making for Cowes or Southampton."

"Perhaps they started in that direction purposely to deceive anyone on the look-out on shore," suggested Mr. Armitage. "If the morning were at all misty here (it was at Southampton when I came through by train) they might easily slip over to the Isle of Wight shore and through the Needles Channel."

"What puzzles me," remarked Roche, "is how they got so far with no paraffin and only a gallon or so of petrol on board."

"That is an interesting point," agreed the Scoutmaster. "No doubt we'll find out more about it later on. Now the best thing you can do is to turn in and make up arrears of sleep, because to-morrow we journey to Weymouth to bring the truant home."

At seven the following morning the Sea Scouts assembled for their long march to the railway station. Each lad carried a couple of blankets, toilet requisites, and a well-filled haversack. Somewhere in the vicinity, but making his presence as inconspicuous as possible, was Bruin. The dog, with that unerring instinct which animals possess, knew that something was on the cards, and he didn't mean to be out of it if he could help it.

Peter had left him at home in spite of the pleading look in the animal's eyes, but had not been gone five minutes before the dog succeeded in making his way upstairs and jumping through an open window on to the veranda. The ensuing eight-feet drop was nothing to him. He alighted on the ground, and was off like a young tornado, in spite of the admonition of Peter's mother to "come back like a good doggie".

Having decided that the _Olivette's_ crew were about to travel somewhere by train, Bruin took time by the forelock and preceded the Sea Scouts to the station. Then, crouching behind a pile of luggage, he awaited developments.

Upon arriving at the station Mr. Armitage took the tickets. When the train steamed in there was a rush for seats, the Scoutmaster, Roche, Flemming, and Woodleigh finding room in one compartment, and the rest of the crew in another, which happened to be immediately in front of the guard's van.

Bruin waited. He saw the carriage door being shut, but beyond stiffening himself he made no attempt to quit his place of concealment.

The guard blew a whistle and waved a green flag.

That was what the knowing dog was waiting for. With a flying leap Bruin jumped through the open window of the compartment where Peter was, landing on the knees of the astonished Patrol Leader.

"It's too late to chuck me out now," said Bruin, in doggie language. "But, after all, you don't mind, do you?"

Peter patted the dog's head with one hand, while with the other he felt for his purse, making a mental calculation of the fare for a dog from Milton (the nearest railway station to Milford) to Weymouth.

When at length the Sea Scouts detrained at their destination, they quickly realized that they were not strangers in a strange land, for they were met by a number of Scouts, whose shoulder badges announced them as belonging to the 5th Weymouth Troop.

"Awfully good of you to take charge of the _Olivette_," said Mr. Armitage to the Weymouth Scoutmaster.

"Not at all," protested the other. "All in a day's work, so to speak. No; the thieves are not yet in custody, but the police have several very good clues. The rascals apparently couldn't manage the motor, or, rather, they ran short of fuel; because they hailed a motor-boat off Christchurch Head and borrowed a couple of tins of petrol. They left the compass--your compass--as a security for payment. The crew of the boat supplying the petrol read of the robbery and the disappearance of the _Olivette_ when they returned to Poole, and they immediately reported the matter of the meeting at sea to the police."

"That solves the mystery of how they carried on so far," said Roche. "I know they had only enough petrol for about an hour's run. But our compass?"

"You'll get that back all right," declared the Weymouth Scoutmaster. "It will probably cost you the price of two tins of petrol, but it will be worth it. They left you your magneto, remember."

Scouts and Sea Scouts wended their way to the long narrow harbour. There, moored alongside a steam yacht, lay the _Olivette_, looking, outwardly at least, none the worse for her unauthorized jaunt.

"I've left the dinghy at the steps of the bridge," said Patrol Leader Rusty Rivett. "Sparrow Rogers is in charge of her. You are not starting away at once, I hope."

"'Fraid so," replied Patrol Leader Peter Stratton. "As soon as we take in enough paraffin for the run home. You see, we've started our hols, and we are planning a voyage across Channel. We may even get to Paris."

"How pricelessly topping!" ejaculated Rusty enviously. "It makes me wish I were a Sea Scout, although we Scouts don't have half a bad time. Sorry you can't stay, though we should have liked to show you round. But you must come to Weymouth again, and then we can give you a good time."

Peter went up to Mr. Armitage and saluted.

"Couldn't we invite the 5th Weymouth Troop for a trip, sir?" he asked. "We could land them at Lulworth on the way home."

"Certainly," was the reply. "That is, of course, if they don't mind padding the hoof from Lulworth."

The Scouts were quite enthusiastic over the proposal, while the Scoutmaster seemed quite keen to prolong his acquaintance with Mr. Armitage, for they had discovered that they had another thing in common besides Scoutcraft--both had held commissions during the war, one in the R.N.V.R., the other in the army.

The Weymouth Scouts hurried off to provide themselves with food: Roche and Flemming departed to interview a garage proprietor with a view to obtaining petrol and paraffin, while the rest of the Sea Scouts proceeded on board the _Olivette_ to see if anything besides the compass were missing, and to clear up and snug down before their guests came off.

Just before twelve o'clock the _Olivette_ started with her double complement on board. It was not an ideal time for a quick passage, as the tide was setting to the west'ard. Fortunately the motor started up easily, in spite of the fact that the two rascals who had stolen the boat had been too lavish in the use of lubricating oil.

"That's better than giving her too little," declared Roche the optimist. "She's running like a clock."

The day was clear and bright, with a calm sea and a hot sun shining in an unclouded sky. What little wind there was blew off the land. Provided the range of visibility held, the absence of a compass mattered but little.

The _Olivette_ kept close inshore, so that the guests could point out the interesting features of the Dorset coast, which they knew intimately; but presently some of the Weymouth lads looked rather puzzled.

They were too polite to express their perplexity at the manoeuvres of Hepburn, who was at the helm of the _Olivette_.

Alan, constantly referring to the chart, was feeling none too certain of his position. He kept looking shorewards, trying to determine the various prominent objects.

Presently Phillips, who had been sitting on the coach-roof, descended into the well, made his way past the motor, and climbed upon the raised bench in the wheel-house.

"I say," he remarked, "are you taking us straight to Keyhaven?"

"Dash it all, no," replied Hepburn. "What put that idea into your head? We are going to land you at Lulworth."

"Really," rejoined John. "Do you know you are past Lulworth already?"

On deck the two Scoutmasters were enjoying the joke, although it was rather a set-back to Mr. Armitage, who had been dilating upon the youthful helmsman's skill in coastal navigation.

To them came Stratton.

"One of the Weymouth fellows says we have overrun Lulworth, sir," he reported.

"'Fraid you have," agreed Mr. Armitage. "It's over there."

He pointed over the port quarter to what appeared to be a small rift in the cliffs.

"That's Lulworth, Peter," he added.

"Why, sir," exclaimed the astonished Patrol Leader, "it's so small we couldn't possibly take the _Olivette_ in there."

"You are not the first to make that remark," observed the Weymouth Scoutmaster. "Many yachtsmen have mistaken Mupe Bay and Worbarrow Bay for Lulworth Cove. The coastguard look-out hut on the western cliff is the best mark to distinguish it."

Meanwhile Alan had put the helm hard-a-starboard, "meeting" it when the boat's head pointed towards the entrance.

As the distance decreased, the real magnitude of the entrance became apparent. In reality, instead of being only twenty yards in width, as Peter had imagined, it was more than four times that distance. On either hand the cliffs rose sheer, with a heavy ground-swell lashing the base of the rocks.

"Keep a bit more over to the eastern side," cautioned Mr. Armitage. "Right--at that. There's plenty of water."

"Hadn't we better clear away the anchor, sir?" asked Stratton.

"Not yet," was the reply. "There'll be heaps of time when we're inside the cove. Anchor work on the foredeck with this swell on is a bit too risky, especially when it's not really necessary."

The entrance was farther away than the crew imagined, and when at length the _Olivette_ glided into the landlocked cove, they were too busy getting ready to anchor fully to appreciate their surroundings.

"Easy.... Stop.... Touch astern!" ordered Stratton. Then, "Let go!"

The anchor plunged to the bottom of the cove, and when the disturbed sand settled, the lads could distinctly see the "hook" embedded in the ground two fathoms beneath the keel.

"I say," remarked Flemming. "We're too close inshore, aren't we?"

He pointed to a pebbly beach at the base of a frowning cliff. The rounded stones appeared to be less than fifty yards away, but presently a man walking along the shore banished the deception, for the "pebbles" were really large boulders, and the size could not be estimated with any degree of accuracy unless by comparison with the height of a known object.

"It's a place for surprises," observed the Weymouth Scoutmaster. "The stupendous cliffs destroy one's sense of proportion. As a matter of fact we are quite a hundred and fifty yards from the beach. Are you coming ashore?"

"We can spare two hours for exploration," replied Mr. Armitage. "By that time we'll pick up a fair tide round St. Alban's Head. I'm thinking of putting into Poole to-night in order to recover our compass."

Three times the dinghy ferried parties of Scouts to the beach, until the _Olivette_, deserted, lay rolling heavily in the sheltered basin.

"How would you like to tumble from the top of that cliff to the bottom, Rayburn?" asked Patrol Leader Rusty Rivett, addressing the Sea Scout Tenderfoot.

"Wouldn't like it at all," replied Rayburn, throwing back his head and looking upwards. "Why do you ask?"

"'Cause it's been done," replied Rivett. "A girl fell over the cliff, a height of between three hundred and four hundred feet, and landed alive at that spot where you see a notice board. The notice tells you all about it."

"Stratton's brother jumped out of a balloon over a thousand feet up," declared the Tenderfoot, not to be beaten in the anecdote line. "He fell five hundred feet before the parachute opened, didn't he Peter?"

The lads roamed over the downs surrounding the cove, and inspected the remarkable Stair Hole, where the strata shows curious "faults", the lines resembling a series of semicircles. They climbed to the look-out hut, whence by the aid of the coastguard's telescope they could see a wide expanse of cliff, terminating at the frowning headland of St. Albans; while from the elevated post the cove looked little bigger than a bath-tub, and the _Olivette_ like a toy boat floating on it.

"Time for us to part company," announced Mr. Armitage. "You've had more than two hours."

Reluctantly the Scouts and Sea Scouts bade each other farewell. The former expressed themselves as being more than repaid for their good turn by the trip in the _Olivette_.

"And mind you come to Weymouth again when you have the chance," said Phillips. "Right-o," replied Peter. "But I hope we don't have to come for the same purpose. We had a rotten time until we knew the _Olivette_ was safe."

The Sea Scouts re-embarked in the dinghy. Bruin preferred to swim off to the boat, but before he was hauled on board he felt very sorry for himself.

The _Olivette_ was still rolling heavily in the long gentle swell. It was quite a different motion from that in a seaway--a long swing-like movement that would quickly put the most experienced seafarer on his mettle.

Watching their opportunity as the _Olivette_ rolled towards them, the Sea Scouts gained the deck. Roche made the painter fast, while Peter and Eric Flemming lay at full length on the waterways in order to haul Bruin on board.

It was a ticklish task, for the dog realized the danger of being crushed by the boat's bilge keel as she rolled. Twice the Patrol Leader made a grab at the animal's collar as the gunwale dropped to within a few inches of the water.

At the third attempt his fingers closed round the scruff of Bruin's neck.

"Got him!" he shouted. "Bear a hand, Eric."

Flemming leaned outboard to assist his chum. As he did so the _Olivette_ began to roll in the opposite direction. Peter, still hanging on to his pet with one hand, grasped Eric's wrist with the other. Bruin's weight when clear of the water considerably exceeded Stratton's expectations, with the result that the Patrol Leader lost his balance and toppled overboard, bringing Flemming with him.

A roar of laughter from the rest of the crew greeted the reappearance of the two lads. Both were good swimmers, and as they came to the surface well clear of the _Olivette's_ hull, they were in no danger. Even Peter and Eric grinned when they shook the water from their hair and eyes, while Bruin, delighted beyond measure at the idea that his master and Flemming were sharing his bath, began tugging at Stratton's sleeve.

At length Roche jumped into the dinghy and hauled Peter over the transom. Then the Patrol Leader hiked his pet over the stern and assisted Flemming into the dinghy, while Roche scrambled into the bows in a vain attempt to escape a shower-bath as the dog vigorously shook himself.

A few minutes later the _Olivette's_ motor was running. The anchor was weighed and secured, then with three ringing cheers for the 5th Weymouth Troop, who still lingered on the beach, the Sea Scouts resumed their homeward voyage.