A WELL-DIRECTED THRUST ENABLED BRANDON TO REDUCE THE NUMBER BY ONE . . . . . . . . . . . 108 THE FIERCELY FLOGGING MAINSAIL THREATENED TO SWEEP THE SEA SCOUT FROM HIS PRECARIOUS POSITION . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . 150 The Boys of the "Puffin" CHAPTER I THE DEPUTY SCOUTMASTER "ANY luck?" Sea Scout Peter Craddock had heard that question many times before. It seemed to be a stock phrase with the numerous trippers at Aberstour whenever they attempted to open a conversation with any of the amateur fishermen on the pier-head. Peter finished the task on which he was engaged--placing a plump and slippery ragworm upon a sharp, brand-new hook--before replying. Turning his head, he saw that his questioner was a young, rather prepossessing man, somewhere in the vicinity of twenty-five years of age. In one hand he held a folding kodak, in the other a towel and bathing costume. "Not yet," replied the Sea Scout. "I'm a bit too early. Tide's still ebbing, though it's close on low water." "Rummy little beasts," commented the stranger, as he looked at the wriggling worms "I shouldn't care to handle them." "You'd soon get used to that," declared Peter, "'specially if they were put in sand--takes the slimy sensation off, you know." "How do you get them?--buy them from the boatmen?" "Some people do," observed the Sea Scout. "We don't. We dig for them when the tide's out." "Really?" rejoined the stranger; then, dropping the subject, he pointed to a topsail schooner brought up outside the bar. "What's she flying that flag for?" he asked. "That's her ensign." "I thought an ensign was always flown from the back end of a ship." "The stern," corrected Peter. "Oh, no, not always. She's flying her ensign at the foremast head. Shows she's come foreign." "Come foreign," repeated the other. "What does that mean?" "She's just arrived from a foreign part," explained the Sea Scout with that touch of superiority in his tone which a seaman frequently adopts when enlightening mere landlubbers. "She's bound to keep that ensign flying until the Customs people give her clearance. They're putting off to her now." A dinghy, manned by a couple of bronzed individuals in pilot jackets and peaked caps swept past the pierhead. The one in the stern sheets gave a friendly salutation to the Sea Scout. Peter waved back a reply. "Friends of yours, eh?" continued the persistent questioner. "Sort of," admitted Craddock. "Hello! My bait's gone again. The crabs are busy. I don't fish off the pierhead as a rule, but some of our fellows have gone away in the dinghy. That's our yacht over there." He pointed to a cutter of about eight tons sitting with only a slight list on the mud. "How jolly!" exclaimed the stranger. "Do you Scouts sail her yourselves?" Peter shook his head. "No, that's the worst of it," he replied. "We aren't allowed to without our Scoutmaster on board. We can use the dinghy, though."