"Be careful," cautioned Mr. Gregory. "Never known her to do that before," declared the Patrol-leader. "Retard her still more, Peter." "Can't," was the reply from below. "Mag's as far back as it will go." Undaunted, Brandon made another attempt, with precisely the same result. "Someone's been----" began Craddock, then, reining in his thoughts, he exclaimed, "Timing's slipped, Frank. Hang on a minute, I'll see if I can adjust it." "Better not," objected the Deputy Scoutmaster. "It's a tricky business in a bad light. There's a faint breeze springing up." "I can do it, sir," persisted Craddock. "All right. Carry on, but be careful not to lose any of the parts." Lying on his side with his feet curled up, for the engine-room was cramped and awkwardly shaped, Peter tackled his self-imposed job. Altogether it took him the best part of half an hour. "We're gaining now," declared Mr. Gregory. "Tide's easing a lot. Keep your eyes skinned, you fellows, and see if you can pick up Oldbury Head Light." "Engine ought to be all right now, sir," reported Peter. "Shall we start her up and stow canvas?" "Start her up by all means, but we'll keep the sails set and beat to wind'ard with the motor to help us. One long tack to seaward ought to do the trick." This time the motor fired easily. Midnight found the _Puffin_, on the port tack at least ten miles from shore. A slight haze had completely dimmed the powerful light on Oldbury Head, while the lights of Aberstour were quite invisible. "Green light on the port bow, sir!" reported Wilson. "She keeps clear of us, doesn't she, sir?" "Think again," said Mr. Gregory. Whilst Wilson did think Phillips exclaimed: "I know, sir. She's not a steamer, 'cause there's no masthead light. We are, although we're under sail." "Quite right," replied Mr Gregory. "At sea a motor vessel rates as a steamer. Wind's dropping again. Get the canvas down, lads; we'll carry on under motor alone." The work of lowering sails was quickly performed. "Hello, sir!" exclaimed Brandon. "Signalling?" "Yes," replied Mr. Gregory. "That vessel has been signalling to us while you were lowering sails. She wants something; we'll run alongside. Mind the dinghy, one of you, if we have to go astern. Fenders out on the starboard side." The Sea Scouts obeyed with alacrity. A midnight meeting with another craft was something out of the ordinary. "What does she want, sir?" inquired Wilson and Carline. "That I can't say," replied Mr. Gregory. "She may be in distress--sprung a leak, short of water, or half a dozen other causes. We'll soon see. Stand by with the reverse gear, Phillips. Ease her down a bit." The strange vessel was now looming in the starlight. She was a craft of about fifty tons, ketch-rigged with dark sails. "Ahoy!" shouted a deep voice. "What craft is that?" "Yacht _Puffin_, of Aberstour," replied the Patrol-leader.