"We'll have to get that topsail down," declared Mr. Clifton. "I'll go aloft. Stand from under, Peter." If the truth be told, Mr. Clifton did not feel any too confident over the job. Active enough in most respects, he did not relish work aloft. On previous occasions his paid hand undertook tasks of that description. Yet he was quite ready to essay the work of sending the obstinate topsail down on deck. "I'll go, sir," volunteered Peter. Mr. Clifton looked very pleased, but the next moment he realised that the job was a dangerous one. "I'm used to going aloft," continued Craddock. "Am I not, Mr. Grant?" Scoutmaster Grant, who had relieved the owner at the helm, nodded assent. "He's as active as a monkey, Clifton. Up you go, Peter!" The Sea Scout needed no second bidding. Grasping the main halliards and using the mast-hoops as footholds he nimbly ascended to the cross-trees. There he paused to decide upon a further course of action. It was far from comfortable. Although, as Peter had declared, he was used to going aloft, the conditions were very different from those he had previously encountered. The violent motion of the yacht was considerably exaggerated at a height of thirty feet above the deck, whilst the fiercely flogging mainsail threatened to sweep the Sea Scout from his precarious position. Shinning up the bare pole above the cross-trees Peter made the discovery that the topsail halliard had "jumped" the block and was wedged tightly between it and the sheave. At present there was only one thing to be done. Drawing his sheath knife he cut the rope. The topsail yard dropped, and before Craddock could regain the deck the sail was lowered and secured by Mr. Grant. {Illustration: "THE FIERCELY FLOGGING MAINSAIL THREATENED TO SWEEP THE SEA SCOUT FROM HIS PRECARIOUS POSITION." [_P_. 150} "Well done, Peter!" exclaimed both men as Craddock, breathless with his exertions, rejoined them. "Had to cut it, sir," declared the Sea Scout apologetically. "Only what I expected," rejoined Mr. Clifton. "Take the helm while we lower the mizzen topsail and mainsail. Keep her jogging along, Peter." Still further reducing canvas occupied the next ten minutes. The _Thetis_, under staysail and mizzen, was now doing a bare three knots, while to make matters worse the wind had veered and was now dead against her. "Not much chance of making Mapplewick before dark," commented Mr. Grant. "No, but we must carry on," added his companion. "There's no harbour we can make for nearer than Winkhaven, and I don't want to retrace our course all that way." "She'll make a bad performance to wind'ard without the mainsail," remarked the Scoutmaster. "The best thing we can do is to patch the canvas and trust to luck that it will hold." "Our belated meal first," decided the owner. "We'll heave-to for half an hour."