Five minutes later the squall struck the _Olivette_ heavily. Being without way, and unable to answer to her helm, the staunch little craft lay broadside on in the trough of the rapidly rising sea. CHAPTER XX Home Waters Again The _Olivette_, although she had a light mast stepped in a tabernacle for'ard, did not carry sail, relying solely upon her excellent engine. That the motor had stopped was in no way due to the design. The best engine on the market will "konk out", if foreign matter finds its way into the fuel-tank and thence through the feed-pipe to the carburetter. Bracing themselves with their backs up against the tool-locker and their feet hard up against the engine-bearers, Roche and Flemming toiled desperately to effect a clearance in record time. In their haste they neglected ordinary precaution, and in a sudden lurch of the vessel the jet of the carburetter rolled into the bilges. Mr. Armitage, going below to see how things were progressing, found the two engineers had taken up several of the floor-boards and were groping in a foot of oily bilge-water to recover the small but highly necessary article. "Sorry, sir, but she lurched," said Eric apologetically. "We'll find the jet in half a tick." A cascade of water pouring into the open well warned the Scoutmaster that prompt measures must be taken quickly if the _Olivette_ were to escape being swamped as she lay broadside on. Assisted by Stratton, who volunteered for the hazardous task, Mr. Armitage and the Patrol Leader crawled along the slippery, heaving deck and laid out the sea-anchor. The _Olivette_, drifting rapidly to leeward, snubbed at the rope attached to the canvas bag. There was a sharp twang. The rope, apparently sound, had parted like packthread, and the sea-anchor was irrecoverably lost. "We'll have to rig up another, Peter," shouted Mr. Armitage. "A stout spar, a hammock, and a piece of ballast will do the trick. Be sharp. She won't stand many of these breakers." A hissing, white-crested wave, pouring completely over the boat, confirmed the Scoutmaster's words. Below, the Sea Scouts were plying the semi-rotary pump, but their strenuous efforts failed to cope with the steady inrush of water. Already there was a foot or more swirling over the engine-room floor, to the detriment of the task of clearing the choked carburetter. As he went below to look out the materials for the improvised sea-anchor, Mr. Armitage was confronted by old Tom Boldrigg. "Try ile, sir," suggested the ex-sailor. "Ile's an excellent thing for quietin' the waves. I'll see to that, sir, if you wish----" "Carry on, please," replied Mr. Armitage. "We're rigging up a temporary sea-anchor." Without another word Boldrigg went about his task. His canvas kit-bag served the purpose, and he sacrificed it to the common weal, although it had been his companion for years of service afloat.