"He is certainly plucky," agreed Mr. Clifton. "And he has proved himself very useful on board the _Thetis_. He seems to have distinguished himself in several ways while I was off the yacht, visiting my brother, who was taken suddenly ill. Yes, young Craddock's a smart youngster, who would make a rattling good officer of the Mercantile Marine, although I shouldn't be at all surprised if his parents didn't shove him into a bank or make him cram up for the Civil Service. I've known heaps of cases like that--strong, healthy fellows condemned to a sedentary life when their one desire is to go to sea. Hullo! here he comes." Hurrying along the tow-path came Peter Craddock. The _Thetis_ was lying at Ravensholm. For one thing, a spell of very bad weather had detained her, and for another, Mr. Clifton had been compelled to make several hurried journeys to his home and could not spare time to take the yacht round to her laying-up port. Craddock had remained on board almost continuously, but his holiday was drawing to a close, and very soon he would have to bid farewell to the sea until Easter. Then, by what Peter considered to be a rare slice of luck, Scoutmaster Grant found an opportunity of coming round to Ravensholm to help Mr. Clifton take the _Thetis_ home. That meant that Craddock would have what he had long been hoping for--a long sea passage in the capable little yacht. It was Tuesday morning. Craddock had been sent into the town to purchase provisions for the voyage. The water tanks had already been filled. All that remained on Peter's return was to unmoor and set sail, then good-bye to Ravensholm and its fresh-water river, and "yo ho!" for the rolling billows of the English Channel. Even Rex, the sheep dog, seemed to have an inkling of what was in his master's mind, for he had shaken off his usual lethargy and was frisking about on deck as if to hurry on the process of getting under way. The wind was well aft going down the river, and the _Thetis_ made short work of the run. Instead of a series of short tacks, requiring constant work with the sheets, as was the case when the _Thetis_ ascended the river, there was little to be done beyond an occasional gybe when a bend in the course made such a manoeuvre imperative. In a little over an hour the _Thetis_ had crossed the bar and was responding to the gentle lift of the English Channel. "Jolly fine, sir, to taste the spray," commented Peter as a feather of foam flew in over the yacht's weather bow. "How long will the passage take?" Mr. Grant shook his head. "Can't say," he replied. "It depends entirely upon whether the breeze holds, since Mr. Clifton doesn't care to use the motor. At this rate, we ought to make Mapplewick before dark."