Although all on board were by this time well acquainted with the Isle of Wight coast, none of the "watch below" had any inclination to "turn in". The fact that they were actually on a voyage of a different nature from any they had previously undertaken was sufficient to keep all hands on deck. Mr. Armitage offered no protest. He knew from experience that it was next to impossible to get the thoroughly excited youngsters to rest and sleep. With old Boldrigg it was another matter. He had volunteered to share Mr. Armitage's "trick", and he was too much of an old salt to stay on deck when there was an opportunity of a "caulk" below. Before the _Olivette_ was abreast of Hurst High Light, Tom Boldrigg had descended to the fo'c'sle, where he immediately "got busy" by slinging his hammock. Just as he was about to turn in, a faint scuffling attracted his attention. "Rats aboard this hooker," he soliloquized. "I'd best trice up my boots and gear clear of the deck or the blighters'll be nibbling 'em come morning." With this resolve, Tom Boldrigg began to collect his "duds", when he heard a decided sneeze. "Stowaway, eh?" he exclaimed. "Now, then, my hearty, whoever you be, out you come!" Boldrigg waited for about half a minute, then, having decided that the stowaway was hiding in the tapering part of the fo'c'sle abaft the chain-locker, began to investigate in that direction. Expecting to find a human being, he was considerably surprised when a moist tongue licked his hand. "Why, it's a dog!" he exclaimed. "It's Bruin." Realizing that the need for his concealment was over, Bruin emerged from his retreat, wagging his stumpy tail, but, contrary to custom, the animal made no attempt to bark. "'Ere's a proper lash-up," soliloquized the old man. "That dog can't come along with us. That's a dead cert. But what's to be done with him? I'd best inform Master Stratton." Peter's amazement at the news was too great for words. He could give no satisfactory explanation as to how his pet had escaped from the shed, evaded the crew, and succeeded in getting on board the _Olivette_ unperceived. Obviously Bruin could not have leapt from the water on to the boat's deck. "He must have pulled himself up by the cable," suggested Roche. "Plucky little beggar. Let's take him along. No one will be any the wiser. We can smuggle him ashore." It was a tempting suggestion. As Roche had said, it would be a comparatively easy matter to land Bruin in the almost unfrequented Keyhaven on their return, but---- "Can't be done," decided Peter. "For one thing, it's against the regulations; for another, it wouldn't be fair to other dog-owners. Suppose Bruin did get in contact with a French dog infected with rabies? We'll have to put back and land him." "It's bad luck to put back, sir," declared Tom Boldrigg. "Ask any sailorman and he'll tell you. Times I've been on board a ship that's put back for something or other, and, sure as fate, there's been a run of bad luck."