AT six o'clock the _Thetis_, with her ensign flying at half-mast, staggered into Mapplewick Harbour. Willing hands assisted to berth her alongside the jetty--a willingness prompted by the sight of the half-masted colours, while a crowd of curious onlookers could hardly be restrained from questioning the two grey-faced men who formed the crew of the storm-beaten yacht. Half-dazed by the magnitude of the calamity, Grant and Clifton went ashore to perform their sad duty--to report the loss of one of the crew and to telegraph the grim tidings to Craddock's parents. At noon Mr. and Mrs. Craddock arrived by train. They were met by the Scoutmaster, who fully expected to be reproached by the missing lad's parents; but not a word of that sort escaped them. They were yet to realise their loss, and were still buoyed up in the hope that Peter would yet be restored to them. For a fortnight they remained at Mapplewick. Mr. Grant remained, too. Nothing would induce him to return to Aberstour while there was a chance that the sea might give up the body of the drowned Sea Scout. But in spite of the assurances of the fisherfolk that the corpse would be washed ashore in Mapplewick Bay at any time after the ninth day, the fortnight passed without that grim event taking place. The sea, lashed into fury by a prolonged Equinoctial gale, refused to give up its secret. At length, with hope all but extinguished, Peter's parents returned to Aberstour. Mr. Grant went with them. He was utterly overwhelmed by the disaster--a prey to self reproaches that he had not taken better care of the boy. He remembered with a pang of remorse his confident assurances to Mr. Clifton that Craddock could be trusted to do almost anything. Peter had proved his resourcefulness in time of danger, yet in a comparatively light wind he had vanished. "I can never bring myself to go afloat with the troop again," he thought to himself, dreading the time when the _Puffin_ was due to be put into commission with her youthful crew. One morning the Scoutmaster was interrupted in the midst of shaving by a violent knocking on the front door. "There's Mr. Craddock to see you, sir," announced his landlady through the closed door of the bathroom, followed by a loud hammering of the caller's fists. "News--good news!" exclaimed Mr. Craddock excitedly when the two men were face to face. "Read this, Mr. Grant. Peter's safe!" He thrust a bulky envelope into the Scoutmaster's hands. "Read it!" he repeated. "Everything's all right now, but it fair puzzles me how Peter got there." With this rather vague remark Mr. Craddock sat down, breathing heavily, for he had been running. Mr. Grant read the letter. It was from Peter, and was headed, "s.s. _Boanerges_, Bahia, Brazil." It was a breezy letter, relating at some length Peter's adventures on the High Seas between Las Palmas and South America.