“Because for the present it isn’t absolutely necessary,” explained Mr. Grant. “When you’ve a fixed object to steer by, it saves the strain of peering into the binnacle-hood. You fellows have had quite enough of that to-night, or rather last night. Now, Heavitree, nip below and get the stove going. Nothing like a cup of hot cocoa in the early morning after a long trick. When it’s ready, tell Brandon to turn out. We’ll want an extra hand if we have to beat in. This wind will head us, I fancy, when we’re abreast the Homestone.” The _Kestrel_ was now so steady that Heavitree had no difficulty in lighting the stove. In about ten minutes his tousled head appeared, framed in the companion. “Cocoa’s ready, sir,” he announced, “and all the others are awake and want cocoa too.” “You want me, sir?” asked Brandon, as he edged past Heavitree in the companion. “Yes, please,” replied Mr. Grant. “Have your cocoa and a biscuit first, then tell the others to get their breakfasts when they’re dressed. We don’t want too many on deck, if we’ve to tack in. And, while you are about it, you might hand me the chart of Dartmouth Harbour.” Six o’clock was striking as the _Kestrel_, at one moment heeling to the fierce blasts that swept down from the lofty ground and at another gliding with canvas hanging idly in a flat calm, made her way between the twin castles of St. Petrox and Kingswear, and gained the land-locked harbour of Dartmouth. Fortunately the first of the flood tide was setting in, and without much difficulty the yacht gained its anchorage. “There’s a vacant buoy,” observed Mr. Grant, pointing to one a short distance astern of a small tramp steamer. “We’ll pick it up. It will be much safer than riding to a kedge. We’ll have to get another anchor some time to-day, and the sooner the better. Now, Brandon, let’s see how you come up to moorings.” Considering the Patrol Leader was as yet almost a stranger to the _Kestrel’s_ capabilities he managed remarkably well. Judging the distance to a nicety, he put the helm down and shot the yacht up into the wind. Heavitree running for’ard picked up the buoy with a boat-hook, and hauling in the buoy rope passed the mooring chain round the bitts before the yacht had time to “fall off.” “Well done!” exclaimed Mr. Grant approvingly. “Down canvas! Then breakfast and a jolly good sound sleep!” “Could do with both, sir,” agreed Craddock feelingly. But the Scoutmaster had much to do before he could enjoy an already well-earned rest. As soon as the post-office opened he went ashore in the dinghy and telegraphed to old Marner the news of his son’s safety. Also he had to report the matter to the Registrar of Shipping. He then took the opportunity of communicating with Scoutmaster Pendennis at Falmouth, acquainting him of the fact that the _Kestrel_ had arrived at Dartmouth under somewhat unusual conditions and expressing a hope that even yet the _Merlin_ and the _Kestrel_ would be able to cruise in company.