With the prospect of losing their present Patrol Leader the Sea Scouts had decided to have a glorious cruise before he severed his connection with the _Olivette_. It was an elaborate scheme. They were to "go foreign", taking the _Olivette_ across Channel to Havre and then up the Seine to Rouen, and possibly Paris. Scoutmaster Armitage had readily fallen in with the idea. Not only would the execution of it give his lads another opportunity of seamanship in the Channel, it would afford them a chance of seeing a country not their own--a country that, during the last few years, has been closely united in aims and sympathies with her former enemy. The Sea Scouts had received several letters from their Scoutmaster during his stay in town. In them he reported progress: how that he had already obtained the necessary charts, and had applied for passports and other forms that had to be produced before the crew of the _Olivette_ landed on French soil. Already Hepburn, the Troop photographer, had been busy on this account, taking individual photographs of each member of the _Olivette's_ crew. True to their traditions, the Sea Scouts kept smiling, and in the resultant prints the smiles appeared to be grossly exaggerated. The "rogues' gallery", as Stratton termed it, had been duly sent off to Mr. Armitage, to adorn the necessary passports. The _Olivette_ being ready for launching, the Sea Scouts turned their attention to the dinghy, until the little tender glistened with varnish and the boat-house was festooned with her various fittings all wet with "best copal ". "Bruin!" exclaimed Stratton, addressing the high-spirited animal. "Get outside. You're shaking your hairs all over the varnish. And please don't look so excited. You aren't coming this trip." "What?" exclaimed Warkworth in dismay. "Bruin not coming? Why not, Peter? It wouldn't be the _Olivette_ without Bruin." "It'll have to be," retorted the Patrol Leader. "It's rough luck on Bruin, I admit; but if we took him to France he'd have to undergo six months' quarantine when we returned. It isn't worth it, old son, is it?" The "old son" looked at his master and solemnly winked one eye. "I mean it, Bruin," continued Stratton. Bruin shut one eye again, and went outside to think things over. Early next morning the Sea Scouts reassembled at Keyhaven. First high-water--for there are double tides on this part of the coast--was at 10.15, but all preparations had to be completed well before that time. As the lads approached the _Olivette_ the Patrol Leader came to a sudden stop. He wasn't smiling this time. In fact his jaw dropped appreciably. The boat's side looked as if it had developed a marine form of scarlet fever. It was simply peeling all over. The smooth coat of grey, over the application of which Stratton had spent so much time and labour, was little better than an expanse of blistering and flaking paint.