It was six o'clock when the "liberty men" landed on the quay at Duclair. Roche, Flemming, and Tenderfoot Rayburn, who had volunteered to remain on board as watch-keepers, went off with the others in order to bring back the dinghy. "We'll be back at sunset, or soon after," said Mr. Armitage when the party had been safely landed. "Aye, aye, sir," replied Roche. "We'll keep a look-out for you." Returning on board, Roche made the dinghy fast, and hung a canvas bucket over the stern to prevent the little craft from bumping against the _Olivette's_ counter, as the wind was against the tide. "Now we're all snug, Phil," exclaimed Roche. "I'm going on deck to write letters." "So am I," added the Tenderfoot. "Then we can post them when we go ashore for the other fellows," said Roche. Having attended to their home epistles, the two Sea Scouts read books until it was nearly sunset. "Lay the table in the after-cabin, Phil," said his companion "I'll start up the stove. We'll have a jolly good feed ready for them when they return. They'll be here in twenty minutes or half an hour." An hour passed, and no sign of the returning "liberty men". Roche took the hard-boiling kettle off the stove, lit the cabin lamp, and went on deck. It was now quite dark, except for a few lights from the houses ashore and the distant gleam of the Fanal St. Paul against the sombre outlines of the Forêt du Trait. The Tenderfoot, on his own initiative, had trimmed, lighted, and hoisted the riding-light. "That's the sort!" exclaimed Roche approvingly. "You're getting quite a smart sailorman. How's the tide? Why, it's ebbing and we've swung down-stream." "What's happened to the others, I wonder?" asked Rayburn, whose notions of a foreign country included danger for man and beast. "Lost their way, perhaps," replied Roche. "'Twouldn't be the first time a Scout has done that, by any means. We'll hear them hail us very soon." "P'r'aps Hepburn's been run in again," suggested Flemming, "and the others are trying to bail him out." He looked meditatively over the side, and added: "My word, isn't the tide running hard; I wouldn't like to have to go overboard on a dark night like this." The ebb was now running at a good four knots, the water gurgling past the sides of the _Olivette_ as she rode to her tautened mooring-bridle. A tug, towing a train of barges, was laboriously creeping up-stream in an endeavour to make Rouen before morning. Farther down, the triple lights of a large steamer under way could be discerned rounding the bend abreast of Le Marais. Presently the red and green lights were extinguished. She had anchored for the night, preferring to negotiate the intricate channel by daylight. "I'll get the dinghy alongside ready to go ashore," said Flemming. "She'll lie there quietly now we're head to wind." "Don't forget to haul in the bucket," Roche reminded him, "or when we begin to row we'll be wondering what's wrong with the dinghy."