In another minute the _Olivette_ was within the influence of the race. At first she began to yaw in spite of the helmsman's efforts to keep her on her course. It seemed as if a giant hand was gripping the boat's keel and playfully shaking the hull. Then, almost without warning, a sea poured over the starboard quarter. Much of the water was checked by the coaming, but a considerable quantity found its way below, liberally besprinkling the crew. Almost immediately after, another cataract poured in over the port quarter. For a moment it felt as if the _Olivette_ were dropping vertically, then another sea, slapping viciously against her starboard bow, threw her head off a good four points. The helmsman ported helm to meet the deflection, but for some seconds the vessel refused to answer. Almost the whole of the rudder was out of water, while the propeller was racing madly in the air. The passage through the race was of short duration, but it was fairly strenuous while it lasted. Then, as suddenly as she had entered the turmoil, the _Olivette_ glided into practically calm water. "Ugh!" ejaculated Flemming, shaking the water from his clothes. "I don't like races; give me a straightforward heavy sea any old day. I expected the old boat to break her back." "It is a disconcerting motion, I admit," said Mr. Armitage. "The waves are so hollow that the boat was not evenly supported. But it would take more than that to break her back, Eric." Dancing Ledge and Anvil Point were quickly passed. The crew were deeply interested in the famous Tilly Whim Caves, where for centuries smugglers and wreckers were in almost indisputable possession. Then the lads had a clear view of the granite "globe", although they were a bit disappointed at its size. "It's not much bigger than a football," declared Woodleigh. "Isn't it?" remarked Mr. Armitage drily. "You wouldn't care to have to kick it, Will. You've lost your sense of proportion. The magnitude of the cliffs deceives you. See a buoy ahead?" "On our starboard bow, sir." "Then keep it well to port. That marks the tail of Peveril Ledge. You'll see Swanage opening out in a minute or so." A few miles farther on and the granite cliffs gave place to frowning walls of glistening white chalk, terminating in the well-known pinnacle of Old Harry. "We're getting into familiar waters now," said the Scoutmaster. "We were close--rather too close--to that point when we rescued the S.S. _Pent-y-coote_." "But we never saw the land," added Flemming. "No; but we might have hit it," remarked Mr. Armitage gravely. "Providence was kind to us that day. Hello, Peter what is interesting you--the Parson's Barn?" The Patrol Leader was gazing landwards towards a large cave close to Old Harry. "There are some people waving to us, sir," he replied.