In a moment or so there was no doubt about it. The on-coming vessel was identical in design, colour, and size with the _Olivette_, so that the mistake was pardonable. There was a difference: on each bow she bore the legend "R.A.F. No. 5", while her crew were rigged out in the characteristic blue uniform of the Royal Air Force. The motor-boat headed towards the _Mudlark_, slowed down, and reversed engines. "Pretty asses we look," soliloquized Peter, "getting those fellows to stop. Jolly sporting of them, though." "What's amiss?" demanded the officer in command, as he scrambled out of the cockpit. "Joy riding and feeling sorry you came?" "Not at all, sir," replied Peter, saluting. "We've lost a boat and she's almost exactly the same as yours." "S'long as she isn't exactly the same I don't worry," replied the flying officer. "Come alongside and tell me all about It." The Sea Scouts did so. "All right," continued the officer. "If we spot the _Olivette_ we know what to do. There were about a dozen boats of this class built during the war, and no doubt yours was one of them. We're off to Studland Bay to pick up a derelict flying-boat and are taking her back to Calshot. Throw us your painter. We'll tow you back to Hurst." "Cast us off opposite Newtown, sir, if you please," said the Patrol Leader. "We want to see if our boat has put in there." It did not take No. 5 long to arrive at the black buoy marking the entrance to the complicated, five-armed estuary known as Newtown River. Here the _Mudlark_ was cast off; sail was hoisted and with a beam wind the Sea Scouts were quickly within the entrance. Inquiries at the Coastguard Station were fruitless, so, having practically cleared the little general shop of provisions, the lads reembarked, and with the last of the west-going tide managed to arrive at Keyhaven by six in the evening. "There's Mr. Armitage and Rayburn," exclaimed Warkworth. The Scoutmaster and the Tenderfoot were waiting at the edge of the quay. Judging by the expression upon his face, Mr. Armitage showed no concern over the obvious fact that the crew of the _Olivette_ had returned without bringing with them the missing craft. "Good evening, boys!" he exclaimed when the _Mudlark_ came within easy hailing distance. "Any clues?" "No, sir," replied the Patrol Leader despondently. In present circumstances Stratton felt it a matter of impossibility conscientiously to carry out the Scout maxim, "Keep smiling". It simply couldn't be done. Dead tired with their long exertions, and dispirited at their utter failure to find a trace of the stolen _Olivette_, the crew could not raise as much as a suspicion of a smile. "Buck up, you fellows," exclaimed Mr. Armitage, holding aloft a buff-coloured envelope. "I've just received a wire. The _Olivette_ is safe and sound and in good hands!" CHAPTER III A Real Good Turn