Filling the water-tight bag with heavy lubricating oil, Tom secured the mouth tightly and bent a stout line to it. Then with the marlinespike of his knife he pricked half a dozen holes in the canvas. "Belay, there, lads!" he shouted, handing the rope to some of the Sea Scouts and heaving the bag over the side to windward. Although the bag offered very little resistance, the fact that the _Olivette_ was drifting rapidly to lee'ard enabled the canvas sack to run out to the full extent of the rope. The oil leaking through the small holes soon began to take effect. A triangular patch of comparatively smooth oil-covered water, with its apex at the sack and its base far to lee'ard of the boat, had the almost instantaneous result of keeping down the crested waves. The _Olivette_, rolling still, was no longer in peril, for not a cupful of spray came inboard. "How long will that last?" inquired Mr. Armitage. "Best part of an hour, sir," replied the old man. "'Sides, we can easily pull the sack aboard again and fill up with ile." But in less than twenty minutes the engine was running again with her flywheel well clear of the bilge-water. The Sea Scouts at the pump had seen to that. Slowly the _Olivette_ was brought round head to wind. With strenuous efforts the canvas bag was hauled inboard, and the order given for full speed ahead. Buffeted by the waves, with spray flying in solid showers twenty feet above the wheelhouse, the little ship resumed her dash for home. Another lift in the rain-laden mirk showed the Isle of Wight now two points on the port bow. Mr. Armitage hailed the sight with whole-hearted satisfaction. He was running for the eastern side of the island in order to get under the lee of the land. Although it was the longer course, it was far preferable to having the dangerous stretch of coast between St. Catherine's and The Needles under his lee. Nearer and nearer came Old England's shores. Every revolution of the propeller was decreasing the distance between the _Olivette_ and sheltered waters. At eight o'clock in the evening, Mr. Armitage went into the wheel-house, where Woodleigh and Warkworth were doing a double trick at the helm, for it required more than one strong lad to master the kicking wheel. "I'll take on for a spell," he said. The lads regarded their Scoutmaster curiously. Knowing the previous arrangement that Mr. Armitage was not to take any active part in the navigation of the ship, his decision rather puzzled them. "We're quite all right, sir," protested Woodleigh. "I'm stiff with doing nothing," rejoined Mr. Armitage. "A tussle with the wheel will do me good."