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  He rowed away, with Nancy in the stern coiling the lead-line at her feet. In a few moments the dinghy, with Nancy and the skipper in it, was no longer even a dark blob in the mist. It had gone. Listening for the gentle splash of the oars, the rest of the crew were looking at each other as if to ask what was going to happen next.

  “We’re close in shore anyhow,” said John. “Hear that grouse again?”

  “And anchored,” said Susan. “Well, it’s much better than being at sea in a fog.”

  “We may have to shift again,” said John. “We may be too near in.”

  “Is that what they’ve gone to find out?” said Dorothea.

  “What about Peggy?” said Susan. “He forgot about her. She isn’t wanted up there now.”

  “Come along down, Peggy,” called John.

  “BELL!” A shout came at them out of the mist.

  “Ting … Ting … Ting … Ting … Ting …” came the answer. The shout had met Roger just as he came happily up from the engine room after shutting off the petrol and giving the engine a wipe over with an oily rag.

  “He said we were to keep on ringing,” said Titty, and took the rag with which Roger was wiping his fingers and used it to wipe the grease off her own.

  “All right,” said Roger, “I will,” and he kept the bell ringing, “Ting … Ting … Ting … Ting.…”

  “Quiet a minute,” said John, coming aft from the foredeck where he had been making a neat stow of the staysail so that it could be hoisted again at a moment’s notice. “Listen!”

  “Seven fathom,” they heard Nancy’s voice away in the mist.

  “Ting … Ting … Ting.…”

  “And again.” That was Captain Flint.

  “Eight fathom.”

  Aboard the Sea Bear they listened for the oars, trying to make out where the dinghy was.

  “Seven fathom.”

  “Where now?” said Titty. “That sounded as if Nancy was close by.”

  “Somewhere astern,” said Peggy. “They’ve been moving round that way. Pheeeu! It was clammy up there.”

  “Could you see anything?” asked Dorothea.

  “Not a thing,” said Peggy. “But I’ve got ears.”

  “Good long ones,” said Roger.

  “Let me get at that boy,” said Peggy.

  “Bearing about west,” said John.

  “BELL!”

  “Ting … Ting …” “Shut up Peggy, I’ve got to keep ringing.” “Ting … Ting … Ting …”

  “Eight fathom.”

  “That sounded off the port bow,” said John.

  “Ting … Ting … Ting.…”

  “Seven fathom.”

  “Amidships now,” said John. “Funny how hard it is to tell.”

  “There they are,” cried Titty. Dimly, a shadow dinghy had shown for a moment.

  “That’s a bit too near,” they heard Captain Flint’s voice. “Half a minute … Now, try again.”

  “Seven and a half.”

  “Ting … Ting … Ting.…”

  “John!”

  “Sir!” John shouted back into the whiteness.

  “Have the kedge ready.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir … Come on, Susan,” said John, and ran forward.

  “That means we’re all right,” said Titty.

  “Does it?” said Dorothea.

  “Of course it does,” said Peggy. “He’s going to put the other anchor down. We’re going to stop where we are for the night.”

  The shadow dinghy showed again, clearer now, and was presently alongside.

  “Hop out, Nancy, and give them a hand when they’re paying out the kedge rope.”

  “All ready with the kedge,” called John.

  Nancy was aboard, very wet with working the lead. Captain Flint brought the dinghy under the bows. John lowered the smaller anchor.

  “Not in the boat. Half a minute. Hold it so, while I get it slung from the stern. Good lad. That’s the way. Now, pay out rope and give a shout when you’re nearing the end. It’s made fast isn’t it?”

  “Just going to be,” said John.

  “Wouldn’t help us much to lose the lot,” said Captain Flint. “I did that once, so I know.”

  He pushed off from the Sea Bear’s side, and rowed away into the mist, passing along her side, and then disappearing astern, the grass kedge rope towing after him as John, Nancy and Susan paid it out and made sure that it should run free. Dick and Dorothea from the cockpit watched the rope sliding away like a snake on the top of the water until it vanished like everything else a few yards from the ship.

  “Three fathoms to go,” John shouted.

  There was a splash far astern, and presently Captain Flint came rowing back, climbed aboard and went forward to make the kedge rope fast to the chain of the main anchor before paying out another two fathoms of that.

  “Well and truly moored,” he said as he came aft. “She won’t hurt now.”

  “What’s the shore like?” asked Dick. “It must be quite close because of those grouse.”

  “Never got a sight of it,” said Captain Flint. “We’ve been all round the ship and saw nothing. But we’ve got a good depth and a good bottom and plenty of room to swing.”

  “Where are we?” asked Dorothea.

  “We’ll know that when the mist goes,” said Captain Flint. “It won’t last. The wind’s coming off the land. It’ll be clear enough in the morning.”

  “We’re stopping here?” said Susan.

  “We jolly well are,” said Nancy. “Shiver my timbers but that mist’s clammy.”

  “You ought to say, ‘Chatter my teeth!’” said Roger.

  “Well, they do it without my saying it,” said Nancy.

  “Mine too,” said Peggy. “Let’s have a fire in the cabin.”

  “Good idea,” said Captain Flint.

  There was a stampede down the companion ladder. Half an hour later, the cabin stove was burning brightly and the whole ship’s company were sitting in the warmth. It was hard to believe that only a few hours before they had been sailing in bright sunshine. The cabin lamp had been lit. Dorothea was thinking that a misty chapter would go well in her Romance of the Hebrides. John was writing up the log … “Closed with the coast. Thick mist. Anchored in seven fathoms. Mud bottom. Laid out kedge. Land to north.” Captain Flint was poring over a book of sailing directions. Nancy was looking yet again at the small chart on which the Sea Bear’s owner had marked the place where he had put her ashore for a scrub. Dick was looking at the big Admiralty chart that showed a lot of small sheets of water not far inland from the coast, just the place for Divers if only he were able to go ashore and look for them. Peggy and Susan were debating supper and agreeing on macaroni and tomato with poached eggs. Titty was back at her own private log … “Anchored in white mist. We may be anywhere.” Roger was fingering his penny whistle trying to think of a suitable tune to play. He grinned to himself and startled everybody by shrilling out at a good pace, “We won’t go home till morning”.

  “Oh, shut up,” said John. “If you want to play that thing, we’ll put you in the dinghy at the end of a long rope and you can go and play it in the fog.”

  Roger played a bar or two of “God save the King!” to show that he was bringing his private concert to an end, and said, “Well, if you don’t like real music, get Captain Flint to lug out his accordion.”

  “All right, Roger,” said Captain Flint. “We’ll cheer them up by playing duets.”

  “We don’t need cheering up,” said Nancy. “This is the best thing that’s happened on the whole cruise. But we don’t mind helping you to make a noise.”

  “It’ll be like being in the Arctic,” said Titty. “Nansen could make all the noise he liked, drifting in the ice, with nobody to hear except Polar bears.”

  “We’re Sea Bears ourselves,” said Roger, “and we can make all the noise we like, and there isn’t even Nansen to listen.”

  Captain Flint laughed, and took the accordion that P
eggy pushed into his hands, and presently there was a din in the cabin enough to lift the roof. They sang all their old favourites that they used to sing in the houseboat on the lake, stamping with their feet, and banging on the table. Peggy and Susan, the cooks, busy in the galley, were singing while busy with their eggs and macaroni. But Nancy, now and again, looked doubtfully at Captain Flint. She knew very well that he was not really happy.

  ‘It’s all right, Uncle Jim,” she said. “It couldn’t be righter. Mac’ll be delighted. We’re in his bay, just where we wanted to be.”

  “Are we?” said Captain Flint. “I wish I knew. If only this infernal mist would clear and we could see. She’s safe enough as things are, but we shall have to keep an anchor watch.”

  “What’s that?” asked Dorothea.

  “Somebody on deck while we’re asleep,” said Titty, “to rouse out the rest of us if anything goes wrong.”

  There was more singing after supper. Then, before turning in, everybody went on deck for a last look round. The mist was as thick as ever. Water dripped from the furled mainsail. The decks were wet. The light coming up through the skylight shone into whiteness overhead. It was very quiet, but for the distant sigh of waves. The Sea Bear lay in smooth water. They knew that those waves must be somewhere outside.

  “Even in real harbours she hasn’t lain as quiet as this,” said Nancy. “I don’t see why you shouldn’t go to bed too.”

  “Look here,” said Captain Flint, “she isn’t mine. I wouldn’t care twopence if I drowned the lot of you, but I’m not going to get Mac’s ship into trouble if I can help it.”

  “You can’t stay up all night.”

  “Not going to. You can set the alarm for three, and then, if it’s still thick, you and John can take a watch. But it should have cleared by then.”

  The crew stowed themselves in their bunks. The lamp burned on in what might have seemed an empty cabin, except that a pair of large feet showed near the top of the companion ladder where the worried skipper of the Sea Bear was sitting and smoking and, every now and then, looking uselessly round into the misty night.

  CHAPTER III

  PUTTING HER ON LEGS

  IT WAS A restless night in the Sea Bear. Steps on deck woke sleepers in their bunks. They turned over and went to sleep again only to be wakened once more by the whirr of an alarm clock, instantly suppressed. Dick lay thinking of the small lochs that were shown on the chart and wondering how long the scrubbing of the ship would take and whether he would be able to go ashore for his last chance of seeing Divers before going home. People were moving in the cabin. There was the noise of somebody slipping on the way up the companion ladder. “Jibbooms and bobstays! I wish shins were made of iron!” It must have been Nancy who slipped. There were snatches of quick eager talk up on deck. “Look! Look! That’s the place.” “Don’t shout.” “All right. But they’re sleeping like logs.” Then there was the gentle bump of the dinghy being brought alongside, the squeak of rowlocks. Silence … Then, “What’s he doing? Stamping to keep warm?” “Finding the best place to beach her.” “Why’s he shifting that stone?” “Making marks, so that we can see where to bring her in when the tide’s up.” “He’s off again.” Silence for a long time. Bump. Captain Flint’s voice outside: “Nice bit of hard. Mac knew what he was doing. Ten foot rise and fall … Low water about one … If we put our back into it we’ll have the barnacles off and the anti-fouling on with time to spare.” There were more noises in the cabin. Dick rolled out of his bunk, to find that almost everybody else had the same idea. Titty, Dorothea, Peggy and Susan were all going up to see what was happening. Dick hurried after them, but hardly had time to get halfway up the companion ladder before there was a roar of “Go to bed, you idiots! You’ve only a few more hours for sleep and a hard day ahead.” The fog had gone, high clouds were driving across, and the sky was full of light.

  “We couldn’t have done better even if we’d been able to see,” said Titty.

  “Anchored right in the middle,” said Dorothea.

  “We really had better go to sleep again,” said Susan.

  “He’s been ashore and looked at the place where she’s going to be put on legs,” said Peggy.

  “Put on legs …” Dick wanted to see how that was done, and perhaps all the crew would be needed for it, but they might not be needed all day and if the Ship’s Naturalist could be spared … Dick scrambled back into his bunk and was asleep again. He did not hear John, Nancy and Captain Flint come down into the cabin. There was quiet for an hour or two. Then more noises. Heavy bumps in the fo’c’sle. Bumps on deck. Someone was reaching into his bunk to get at something high up under the deck. The winch was clanking. There was the sudden roar of a newly started Primus stove. Dick, half asleep, heard Roger say, “Shut up!” and somebody else say, “Engine!” and Roger bounce out of his bunk with “Coming. Coming! Don’t let him start it till I get there.” Dick dozed again. It seemed only a moment later when he awoke and knew that he was the only one below decks. Bright sunshine was sweeping round the cabin. The engine was throbbing. Dick rubbed his eyes, grabbed his spectacles, scrambled out of his bunk and up the ladder to find all the rest of the crew on deck and the Sea Bear moving very slowly across the smooth water of a sunlit cove where yesterday she had lain blindfold in mist.

  The north side of the cove, towards which they were moving, was steep and rocky. A lump of rising ground, covered with heather, hid the valley that was shown on the chart. At the mouth of the cove, Dick saw the seagulls circling about the cliff that had thrown back the sound of the engine when they passed close under it in the fog. The top of the cliff sloped up to a little hill, behind which a high ridge hid the buildings they had seen from the offing. Looking astern, he saw a line of rocks, rising into a promontory that divided the cove from another to the south of it. At the head of the cove a stream was coming down over a waterfall. The Sea Bear was moving towards a little bay with rocks on either side. She was in perfect shelter, though small white clouds, high overhead, were racing seaward, and outside beyond the cliff, were white-topped hurrying waves.

  “Just ticking over,” Captain Flint was saying. “No need to ram her ashore.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” said Roger.

  “Chug … chug … chug.…”

  A lot of work had been done since, in the early morning, the mist had blown away. A great coil of rope was on the after deck, close by the cockpit, with the kedge anchor aboard again and ready for letting go from aft instead of from the bows. More coils of rope were on the foredeck, and the end of one of them went down into the dinghy which, with an anchor in it, was made fast to the starboard shrouds instead of towing astern. Susan was at the tiller. That must mean that John and Nancy and Captain Flint were going to be needed for something else, and needed at once.

  “Doing fine, Susan,” said Captain Flint. “We’re on the marks now. One white stone above another … Keep them so.”

  “Dick,” said Dorothea, “it’s too cold to be on deck in pyjamas.”

  “I’m warm enough,” said Dick. “I’ll change afterwards.”

  “It’s a lovely bit of beach,” said Nancy. “We saw it as soon as the fog went, and Captain Flint went ashore and put the marks.”

  “But where are her legs?” said Dick.

  “Look over the side,” said Nancy. “Didn’t you hear us putting the bolts through?”

  Dick looked over, and saw that heavy posts had been swung alongside, one to starboard and one to port, their forward ends pivoting on huge bolts close to the shrouds.

  “Isn’t it a gorgeous place?” said Titty. “Better than any harbour.”

  “It’s just the place for a story,” said Dorothea, looking at the blue hills far inland, and the steep cliff that sheltered the cove from the north winds.

  “Better than any harbour,” said Titty again. “It’s the sort of place where something’s simply bound to happen.”

  “I hope to goodness not,” said Captain Flint, hurrying past after
making sure that all was ready on the foredeck. “She’s a big ship and we can’t afford to let anything happen at all.”

  “Not that kind of thing,” said Titty, but he did not hear her. Already he was at the stern, looking to and fro as if to judge his distance.

  “Let go the kedge,” he said.

  There was a splash and, as the Sea Bear moved slowly on, he paid out rope.

  “John,” he called, and John was there in a moment. “Watch the kedge rope. See it runs out clear but be ready to check it and haul in fast if we have to go astern. We don’t want it fouling the propeller.”

  “Aye, aye, Sir,” said John.

  “I’ll take the tiller to put her aground,” said Captain Flint. “You’re doing all right, Susan. Stand by to take charge again. Nancy,” he called. “Ready with that bow warp?”

  “All clear to go,” sang out Nancy.

  “Chug … chug … chug.…”

  Slowly, slowly the Sea Bear was moving on towards the shore.

  “Stop!”

  “Stopped,” said Roger, pulling the gear lever half way back. The chug, chug of the engine suddenly quickened, now that it was no longer turning the propeller.

  Slowly and more slowly the Sea Bear moved into the little bay. There were rocks close ahead to port and starboard. On the starboard side they were already beginning to hide the mouth of the creek and the open sea beyond it. Another twenty yards and she would be ramming her bowsprit into more rocks above a narrow strip of curving beach.

  “Any minute now,” said Captain Flint quietly.

  Nobody breathed.

  “Scrrrunch.”

  The next second Captain Flint had left the tiller, was in the dinghy and rowing for the shore, Nancy paying out the warp as he rowed.

  “Scrunch.”

  “He’s got there,” exclaimed Titty.

  They saw him step out of the dinghy, jerk it a foot or two up the beach, take out the anchor, stagger up the shore with it and bed it among the rocks.

  “Haul in on the bow warp and make fast,” he shouted, and Nancy had it taut in a moment.