CHAPTER VII

The New Hand

"And how did your photographs turn out, Alan?" asked Mr. Armitage, when he reappeared on deck, none the worse for his involuntary shower bath.

"I haven't any prints yet, sir," replied Hepburn. "The man at the photographer's shop said he could only develop the films in the time. Here they are, sir."

The Scoutmaster took the proferred envelope, and from it extracted six films.

"Ah, that's good!" he exclaimed. "The 5th Weymouth Scouts on board the _Olivette_. Bruin begging--that's capital. Lulworth Cove--rather a large subject for so small a film, Alan. No. 4: Old Harry viewed from seaward. You'll have a good light-and-shade effect there when the film's printed. Hello! What in the name of creation is this--and this?"

Mr. Armitage held up the fifth and sixth films, first longway and then upright. Alan watched the Scoutmaster's puzzled expression with amusement, but offered no explanation of what the negatives were supposed to be.

"I can't make either of them out," he declared. "It might represent a view of St. Alban's Race taken from the masthead, but I know that you didn't go aloft, Alan. Perhaps some of the other fellows would like to have a shot at solving the mystery."

The two films were passed round, after the general caution being given to avoid touching or scratching the gelatine face.

"Looks like a complicated contour map," hazarded Flemming, "or fancy furrows on a hill-side. Is it?"

Alan smiled and shook his head.

"Give it up, then," said Flemming resignedly.

"Finger-prints," explained Hepburn. "Greasy finger-prints on the induction pipe of the engine. I spotted them directly we came on board, so I used the double extension of my camera and took a couple of time exposures. The finger-prints are almost certainly those of one of the thieves."

"Unless some of the Weymouth fellows touched the pipe," objected Roche.

"I don't think so," replied Hepburn. "For one thing they were made by rather a big man, for the actual marks were an inch and one-eighth wide."

"If your surmise is a correct one, Alan," said Mr. Armitage, "those negatives ought to be most useful to the police."

"That's what I thought, sir," replied the young amateur detective.

"Then you had better come ashore with me and see the superintendent," suggested the Scoutmaster. "It is the duty of every citizen to assist the police; but I hope by so doing we don't have to put off our trip across Channel."

"Might we have to do that, sir?" asked Roche in awestruck tones.

"More than likely," rejoined Mr. Armitage. "Especially if the thieves are arrested. The police will certainly call us, or some of us, as witnesses. Now, then I'm going ashore to interview the harbourmaster and find out the owner of the motor-yacht who supplied the thieves with petrol in exchange for our compass. One hand will have to remain on board. The others can have leave till eleven o'clock."

Mr. Armitage's task was accomplished quicker than he had anticipated. Inquiries resulted in the information that the holder of the _Olivette's_ compass was a well-known yachtsman, who, upon hearing the circumstances under which he had befriended the two thieves, handed back the gear without hesitation. At the police-station the Scoutmaster had to sign a statement, and when he produced the negatives of the finger-prints, the station-sergeant positively beamed with satisfaction.

"These ought to work the trick, sir," he remarked. "Scotland Yard will no doubt be able to identify the criminals. It's my belief that they are not fishermen but cracksmen well known to the Yard. You'll hear from us before very long, sir, I don't doubt."

Mr. Armitage made no audible comment. Personally he was not at all anxious to have to spoil his lads' holiday by attending police courts and the assizes. Mentally he decided to hurry up matters as far as the Paris trip was concerned, since there were witnesses sufficient to prove the culprits' guilt without the Sea Scouts being called upon to give evidence.

At noon the _Olivette_ cast off and proceeded on the last stage of her homeward voyage. It was now blowing steadily from the sou'-west'ard, and with a fair tide outside the harbour the run seemed likely to be quickly performed.

With the last of the ebb the _Olivette_ made short work of the distance between Poole Quay and the Bar Buoy; then starboarding helm, shaped a course to pass a mile to the south'ard of Christchurch Ledge.

Exactly two hours after leaving Poole, the staunch little craft arrived at her moorings in Keyhaven Lake.

"Now, lads," said Mr. Armitage, "the sooner we make a proper start the better. It will take us the rest of to-day and the whole of to-morrow to get ready for our cross-Channel trip. You know your respective duties, so 'get on with it', as the Service saying goes. By the by, Hepburn, you're steward. There's one thing I want to remind you about. Don't take too many boxes of matches, or we may have trouble with the _douaniers_ on the other side. Matches are taxable articles in France."

During the afternoon Mr. Armitage cycled over to Lymington to obtain the necessary clearance papers from the Customs, and to collect a bundle of charts and sailing directions for the French coast lent him by a yachting acquaintance.

In their Scoutmaster's absence the Sea Scouts toiled hard, for there was a lot to be done before the interrupted refit of the _Olivette_ was accomplished. Fresh water, fortunately, they had in plenty, but the paraffin- and oil-tanks required replenishing, and there was a considerable amount of spare gear to be brought down from the store.

That night Stratton, Roche, and Bruin were to sleep on board. In view of previous events the Patrol Leader decided to take no risks of another postponement.

After supper Peter and Roche took Bruin ashore for a run, and on the quay they encountered old Boldrigg.

"We're off to France the day after tomorrow, Mr. Boldrigg," announced Stratton, after he had related the circumstances under which the _Olivette_ had been taken to Weymouth and back again. "We're hoping to go right up to Paris, and perhaps we may get a chance of seeing some of the battlefields."

"Don't I wish I were a-comin' with ye, Master Peter," said the old man wistfully. "My boy, Jim--him as was a corporal--lies out yonder. I'd like to see his grave, but travellin' costs a sight o' money, an' I'm no hand at speaking the Frenchies' lingo. I'd be all adrift if I found myself over t'other side, I'm thinkin'."

"Haven't you been to France, Mr. Boldrigg?" asked Roche.

"Ay, sure," was the reply. "When I was in the old _Aldebran_ on the Mediterranean Station back in the 'nineties I was ashore at Toulon. Things were a bit different to what they are now. We'd just had a bit of a tiff with Johnny Crapaud, an' he was still feeling a bit sore over it. We of the lower deck kept ourselves to ourselves, in a manner o' speaking, and didn't have no truck with the French bluejackets. That was long afore the 'Intent Cordyal', or whatever they calls it, came along. Are you taking Bruin with you?"

Peter shook his head.

"We can't, unfortunately. We'll miss him, but it cannot be helped. Well, we must be getting on board, Mr. Boldrigg, so we'll wish you 'Good night'."

Early next morning the task of provisioning and preparing the _Olivette_ for her voyage was resumed, and so quickly did the work progress that by noon everything was in readiness.

Suddenly Mr. Armitage, who had been consulting charts, navigation books, and tide tables, made an unexpected declaration.

"The wind's light and the glass steady," he observed. "I think it's a pity not to take advantage of the favourable weather conditions; so it would be advisable to make a start this evening. To my mind it is better to arrive off a strange coast soon after daybreak than just before sunset. It gives one a better chance of getting into harbour, especially as the mornings at this time of the year are generally calm. The wind, if you notice, usually pipes up about noon."

This announcement was greeted with cheers.

"And so," continued the Scoutmaster, "you had all better cut off to your respective homes and tell your parents of the alteration of plans. Don't forget to leave Bruin behind, Peter."

"Ay, ay, sir," replied the Patrol Leader. Then, after a pause, he added, "There's one other matter I'd like to mention, sir, and we all hope you'll have no objection. I've been talking about it to the other fellows, and they are all keen about it."

"Fire away, then," said Mr. Armitage encouragingly.

"It's about old Boldrigg, sir," explained Stratton. "You know he's got a son buried out in France. He'd be awfully grateful if we'd give him a passage across and back."

"That will be a very practical good turn," agreed Mr. Armitage. "Right-o; call at his cottage on your way up, and tell him to be ready and on the quay at 4 p.m. He'll have to bring his own bedding and messtraps, but we've plenty of grub, tell him."

Joyfully the Sea Scouts rowed ashore, with Bruin between the Scoutmaster and the Patrol Leader in the stern-sheets.

Bruin was the only member of the party who displayed no enthusiasm. He seemed to know that, as far as he was concerned, there was "nothin' doin'"; but a close observer would have noticed a wrinkling of the hairy brows, and a pensive look in the animal's eyes, as he pondered the possibility of getting himself included in the ship's complement for the forthcoming trip.

Having told Mr. Boldrigg the joyful news that he could accompany the Sea Scouts across Channel, the lads dispersed to their several homes.

Profiting by previous experience, Peter did not lock his pet in his bedroom. Bruin was placed in a large shed that served as a workshop at the end of the garden, Mr. Stratton promising not to let the animal out until an hour after the _Olivette_ had slipped her moorings.

"That's right, old boy," said Peter, patting his pet's head. "Stop there a bit, and be a good little dog."

Bruin looked up at his master's face and gave a piteous howl.

"Yes, I know," continued Peter. "It's rough luck, old boy, very. You know I'd like to take you, but it's impossible."

Well to time, the crew of the _Olivette_ assembled on the shore. With them was old Tom Boldrigg, clad in canvas trousers and jumper, and a blue pilot-coat over his arm.

His luggage consisted of a rolled hammock and blankets, a canvas bag containing his shore-going kit, and a bundle done up in a blue handkerchief.

"You managed to get here, then, Boldrigg," was Mr. Armitage's greeting.

"Ay, ay, sir," was the cheery reply. "I fetched up along all right with my kit. It's mighty good of you, sir, to put up with the likes o' me."

"Not at all," protested the Scoutmaster. "You've the lads to thank. And we'll make good use of you, never fear."

"Glad of that, sir," rejoined the old sailor. "It shows you don't think I'm a worn-out old shell-back, like some of 'em does hereabouts."

The dinghy had to make two trips before the crew of the _Olivette_ and their belongings were placed on board. Then, while Roche and Flemming were "starting up" the motor, the others hoisted out the dinghy, and lashed her, keel uppermost, on the raised coach-roof over the engine.

"Now," announced Mr. Armitage, "we'll work in watches in the cross-Channel run. Peter, pick three of the hands and carry on till ten o'clock. I'll give you the course, but you must act entirely on your own account. I'll relieve you at ten, and carry on till daybreak."

"Very good, sir," replied Peter.

"Take her out by the Needles Channel," continued the Scoutmaster, "and shape a course to pass about a couple of miles south of St. Catherine's. You'll take your departure from that point, steering a compass course of S. 26° W. That's making allowance for deviation. Have you got that?"

"Yes, sir, S. 26° W. from St Catherine's," repeated the Patrol Leader.

"Good; now carry on, please. I'm off duty until ten o'clock."

Feeling vastly proud in the realization of his responsibility, Stratton proceeded to carry out instructions. He chose Roche, Woodleigh, and Rayburn to be in his watch, the Tenderfoot being included so that he would escape the night-watch from 10 p.m. till dawn.

"All ready, Roche?" inquired Peter, giving the wheel a preliminary turn. "Let go, for'ard."

Phil Rayburn, in spite of being termed a Tenderfoot, was no greenhorn. He knew his part of the task of casting loose the moorings.

"All gone, sir," he shouted, as the buoy splashed into the water.

"Touch astern!"

The _Olivette_ glided more than her own length astern, until from the wheelhouse Peter could see the buoy bobbing in the water.

"Easy ahead!"

The boat quickly responded to the action of the propeller. A turn of the wheel gave her sufficient helm to avoid the buoy. Stratton was too good a helmsman to delay the start by getting his propeller mixed up with the mooring rope and chain.

"Full ahead!" shouted the Patrol Leader, in order to make himself heard above the noise of the engine. Then, with a grunt of satisfaction, Peter realized that the big adventure had actually started.

The _Olivette_ was on her way across to La Belle France.