“Hurrah! a breeze!” exclaimed Brandon, as the hitherto idly-playing main boom swung out and tugged gently at the mainsheet. “What course, sir?” asked the Patrol Leader, as the _Kestrel_ gathered way. “Sou’-sou’-east,” replied Mr. Grant. “It’ll mean a night afloat, lads.” “Good egg!” ejaculated Heavitree. The Scoutmaster wasn’t so sure about it. Possibly there would be half a gale of wind when the fog did disperse; and until it did the _Kestrel_ must have plenty of sea-room. To attempt to make a strange harbour in a mist and with only a few remaining hours of daylight was asking for trouble. The breeze held; but the mist, although diminishing in density, continued to hang about in irregular patches. “Keep your eyes skinned, lads!” continued Mr. Grant. “We ought to be seeing land on our port quarter.” “Sail ahead!” sang out Craddock. CHAPTER VII The Derelict “Down helm!” ordered Brandon, in his capacity of officer of the starboard watch. “At that! Keep her so!” The _Kestrel_, answering readily to a slight pressure on the tiller, changed her course to bring the other craft on her port bow. “If we pass within hailing distance they might be able to give us our position,” remarked the Patrol Leader. Quickly the stranger loomed up in the dispersing mist, for by this time visibility extended to nearly a quarter of a mile. She turned out to be a schooner. Her topsails were furled, but her fore and aft canvas was set, the head-sails being to wind’ard. Under these conditions she was “hove-to” with a decided list to port. As a precautionary measure the _Kestrel_ announced her approach by three blasts of her fog-horn, for the wind was well abaft the beam. No reply came from the schooner. “Careless look-out, what?” observed Peter. “I fancy there’s something amiss,” replied Brandon. “There doesn’t seem to be anyone on board. What shall we do, sir?” Mr. Grant, thus appealed to, shook his head. “You’re standing your trick, Brandon,” he replied. “Officially I’m not on duty. Use your own discretion.” The Patrol Leader warmed at the implied compliment. He knew the Scoutmaster’s views. As far as prudence dictated, Mr. Grant left the seamanship entirely to his youthful crew. It was the best way to enable them to gain confidence in themselves. He was merely a sort of referee, ready to assist by advice and deed should the Sea Scouts commit any serious error. Not that they often did. He had great confidence in the skill and resourcefulness of his crew. “Stand by to go about!” ordered Brandon. “We’ll run under her lee and see if anything is wrong with her.”