"Can you take letters ashore for us?" continued the man. "We're three days out from Lowestoft and are bound for Falmouth. No wind and too far to send our boat ashore," he added in support of his request. "Righto!" shouted Mr. Gregory. "We'll run alongside." In a few minutes the _Puffin_ was made fast to the stranger's lee quarter, and a small brown paper parcel and about half-a-dozen letters were handed to Mr. Gregory. "That's all, sir, and thank you," said the skipper of the big yacht. "And if we owe you anything----" "Not at all," replied Mr. Gregory. "We're Sea Scouts and only too glad to do Good Turns. Let go, please! Touch ahead, Phillips." CHAPTER III "LET ME OUT, OR----" AN hour later and the leading lights of Aberstour Harbour were sighted at a distance of about four miles. Brandon was now at the helm. Craddock was on deck for'ard thinking deeply. The rest of the Sea Scouts were either in the cockpit or seated on the cabin-top. Mr. Gregory was below making up his bunk, for he alone of the crew was to sleep on board. The others, according to previous arrangements, were to turn in at the Scouts' Hall, since it was too late for them to disturb their respective parents. The _Puffin_ was no longer alone. Several of the Aberstour fishing fleet were making for home in order to land their catches in time for market. Most of the boats were fitted with motors, and those which did not possess such a useful means of propulsion were being towed in. Fishermen, like Scouts, are members of a brotherhood in which Good Turns are the order of the day---and night. Suddenly a jar shook the _Puffin_. Peter jumped up and ran aft. "All right, you fellows!" he exclaimed and dived into the cabin. "What was that?" inquired Mr. Gregory, still struggling with blankets that obstinately refused to come out of a stiff kit-bag. "Hit something, sir," replied Craddock; "bit of wreckage. I'll look for'ard." Lighting a hurricane lamp Peter crawled through the small sliding doorway between the cabin and the fo'c'sle. "I think she must have strained a plank," he reported breathlessly. "Come and have a look, sir." Mr. Gregory dropped the kit-bag. Peter stood aside to let him gain the fo'c'sle. "Can't see or hear any water coming in," said Mr. Gregory, after a brief examination. "It must be the lap of the waves outside, or----" The thud of the sliding door being hurriedly slammed interrupted his words. He turned to find himself alone. Simultaneously the click of the lock informed him the door was not only shut, but secured. He tried the fore-hatch. Not only was it in place, but it was held down by a strong metal bar padlocked to the deck. "Brandon, come below a minute!" exclaimed Peter. The Patrol-leader, alarmed by Craddock's earnest tones, handed the tiller to Carline and gained the cabin. "I've locked him in," announced Peter. "What for?" demanded the perplexed Brandon.