The youthful quartermasters stood aside, and the Scoutmaster "took on". He knew that, before the _Olivette_ gained the sheltered waters of Spithead, she would have to negotiate the shallow shoals of the eastern end of the Wight, where an error of judgment would result in disaster. He knew the approaches to Spithead by heart. There was no occasion for him to refer to a chart. An hour later the _Olivette_ passed the huge concrete tower on the Nab shoal. With a strong tide under her, she simply romped past the Warner Lightship, and turned in the direction of the yellow-and-black chequered Horse Sand Fort. "Up steaming-lights!" ordered the Scoutmaster as the sun sank, a pale yellow orb in an indigo-coloured sky. "Cooks to the galley! We're in sheltered water now." The masthead, port, and starboard lamps were lighted and displayed. Down below, the Scouts not on duty were preparing for a belated meal. Spithead and the Solent were familiar sights to them. In the well-lighted cabin they sat, ate, and yarned, while Mr. Armitage and Roche stuck to their respective tasks. Presently Peter came on deck. "I'll take on now, sir," he reported. "You must be hungry.... Why, we're past Cowes--we're nearly home!" "Yes," replied Mr. Armitage. "There's Hurst Light right ahead. Take her, Peter. I'll follow your excellent advice and get something to eat. There won't be enough water for us over the bar, so we'll have to put into Lymington for the night. Besides, we have to obtain our clearance from the Customs." Without incident the _Olivette_ made Lymington River and brought up on a vacant pair of moorings. Her crew slept like logs until they were nearly thrown from their bunks by the wash of the steamship plying between Lymington and Yarmouth. It was blowing very hard from the west'ard--half a gale, in fact. Had the _Olivette_ been caught out in mid-Channel she would have had a perilous time. She had won through by a few hours. "We've had a jolly time," declared Hepburn, surveying the scene, "but give me this side of the Channel any old day of the week. Hello, it's close on eight! I'll have to hoist the ensign." Alan was making his way aft, when Peter stopped him. "Here, you blighter!" exclaimed the Patrol Leader. "What are you up to?" Hepburn explained. "Not the ensign-staff this time," protested Peter. "Why not?" demanded the mystified Alan. "'Cause, you would-be smuggler," replied Stratton, "we've 'come foreign'. Ensign at the masthead, please. That's the recognized rule." The Sea Scouts had not finished breakfast when a boat came alongside with the representative of His Majesty's Excise and Customs. The official smiled when he boarded the _Olivette_. He knew her and her crew well, but duty is duty all the world over. "Anything to declare?" he inquired. "Tobacco, tea, spirits, eau de Cologne, lace, and what not?" "I have spirits," announced the irrepressible Hepburn. "High spirits--so I'm told."