Monsieur Raoul de la Voie took his departure at Caudebec. He bade the Sea Scouts farewell and _bon voyage_, and the lads heartily thanked him for his kindness and hospitality. "He's a proper sport," commented Roche. "There was a time when I thought all Frenchmen wore stove-pipe hats, pointed moustachios, and tufts of hair on their chins. Going abroad widens one's outlook," he added sapiently. Two days were spent at Caudebec. There was much to be done to prepare the _Olivette_ for her homeward voyage. Her fuel-tanks had to be replenished, her oil-supply renewed, provisions and fresh water to be shipped on board, and various formalities to be carried out with the port authorities at Havre. "We start to-morrow, lads," announced Mr. Armitage. "The fine weather is holding, but there are indications of a break-up in the course of the next forty-eight hours. We can't afford to be held up here." "At what hour, sir?" asked Peter. "Seven in the morning at high-water," replied the Scoutmaster. "With luck, we ought to be inside the Wight before sunset." Promptly to the minute on the following morning the anchor was weighed, and the motor began its rhythmic purr. To save time, the Tancarville Canal route was to be cut out in favour of the passage of the estuary of the Seine, and, in accordance with the port regulations, a pilot had to be employed. The pilot came on board just before seven o'clock. He was a short, bow-legged, elderly man, differing very little in appearance from the seafaring fraternity on the other side of the Channel, except that his knowledge of English was rather meagre. Peter Stratton was at the helm, the pilot standing beside him. All went well for the first ten minutes or so, then a brigantine in tow of a tug appeared in sight round a bend abreast of the village of Villequier. "_Tribord tout!_" ordered the pilot. Peter, considerably astonished to receive the order, for he was aware that "tribord" was the equivalent for "starboard", promptly starboarded his helm. The little Frenchman danced with excitement. "_Tribord tout!_" he reiterated. The Patrol Leader gave the boat still more starboard helm. At that moment the tug blew a single blast with her steam whistle. The pilot, abandoning his post, ran on deck gesticulating frantically at the tug. Peter, left to his own devices, and knowing that if he attempted to port helm now there would almost inevitably be a disastrous collision, kept her helm hard over until the _Olivette_ had starboarded sixteen points and her bows were pointing in exactly the opposite direction to her former course. Then he ordered the motor to stop, and awaited the pilot's return. "P'raps he's got a pal on the tug and wants a yarn," he soliloquized. "Wonder what he is doing now?" As a matter of fact the Frenchman, with tears in his eyes, was complaining to Mr. Armitage of the wilful disobedience of the youthful helmsman.