"Kettle's boiling," announced Mr. Clifton, opening the valve of the stove. "Pass along the teapot, please." The roar of the stove died away. The two men sat down to the hurried meal. Happening to glance upwards at the tell-tale compass in the roof of the deckhouse, Mr. Grant gave an exclamation of surprise. "Hello!" he remarked. "What's Peter doing--dozing? We're four points off our course." "All right, Peter?" shouted Mr. Clifton. There was no response. "Asleep on duty," continued the skipper of the _Thetis_ jokingly. Then louder: "Peter! Wake up! You're letting her shake!" Still there was no reply. The two men exchanged glances. Each read on the other's face an unspoken fear. Simultaneously they made for the companion-ladder, colliding in their frantic rush on deck. Coming directly from the brilliantly-lighted saloon, they could see nothing at first, save the faint gleam of the binnacle lamp. That, they knew, ought to be playing upon the figure of the helmsman. It did not, merely flickering upon the gently flapping mizzen. "Peter!" shouted the Scoutmaster, vainly hoping that Craddock might have gone for'ard. "'Fraid he's fallen overboard!" exclaimed Mr. Clifton. "Haul on the mizzen-sheet, Grant. We'll put about. He can't have gone very long." The owner of the _Thetis_ put the helm hard over. The Scoutmaster fumbled for the mizzen-sheet. Only a few feet remained, one end frayed like a small mop-head. As the yacht swung head to wind before falling off on the other tack, Mr. Grant secured the swaying mizzen-boom, then going for'ard and steadying himself by the fore-stay he peered through the darkness, shouting at intervals in the hope of hearing a response from the lost Sea Scout. It was a hopeless task. Both men realised the extreme unlikeliness of the yacht retracing her course. All they could do was to make short tacks, in the hope that by so doing they might pass within hailing distance. "He's a good swimmer," declared Mr. Grant. "Ten miles from the nearest land," rejoined his companion gloomily. "Might have got a crack on the head as he went overboard. I was a fool to let him remain on deck alone." "I'm more to blame," declared Mr. Grant. "But settling the responsibility will not find him. Ahoy!" he hailed for the twentieth time. There was not even a mocking echo in reply. The waste of darkened water, where no doubt Peter was still swimming for dear life, was an impenetrable veil. For a distance of twenty yards or so the red and green navigation lamps threw their coloured rays upon the water. Beyond that sea and sky were merged into a wall of utter darkness. All the rest of that long night the _Thetis_ cruised round the spot where it was supposed the yacht had been when the catastrophe occurred; then with the first streaks of red dawn in the eastern sky the _Thetis_ bore up for Mapplewick. CHAPTER XXV SAFE AND SOUND