Both yachts anchored in less than seven feet of water just inside the shelter of Swanage Pier. The Cornish lads went ashore in their quest for petrol and provisions, and with them went the Sea Scouts of the _Kestrel_ with the exception of Craddock, who, with Mr. Grant and the stowaway, remained on board. Brandon was the bearer of a telegraph form on which Mr. Grant had written: “Have found a stray grandson; please wire instructions.” Having dispatched the wire, the Patrol Leader and Heavitree made their way towards Peveril Point in order to give Molly a run on a closely cropped turf. Waiting until a reply might be forthcoming, Brandon called at the post-office. There was no answer. After another half-hour had elapsed he called again, still without success. From the beach he semaphored the news to Mr. Grant. The delay was getting serious. The _Merlin_ was ready to resume her voyage. There was a fair wind and tide, but if the start were delayed much longer a strong adverse tide would be encountered in the Needles channel, which meant that perhaps the Sea Scouts would be compelled to spend another anxious night afloat. “You’d better push on, Pendennis,” suggested Mr. Grant. “We’ll follow and pick you up at Lymington.” The Cornishman fell in with the idea. As a matter of fact, he particularly wanted to give his crew a good night’s rest in some sheltered harbour within The Wight; and, having the West of England yachtsman’s typical respect for the mudbanks and erratic tides of the Solent, he did not relish the possibility of having to navigate that intricate waterway in the hours of darkness. So the _Merlin_ “carried on.” Craddock then semaphored a message to his chum telling him to remain ashore until one o’clock, but to keep the other Sea Scouts together in case they had to re-embark in a hurry. It was not until five minutes to the hour that the expected telegram arrived. It read: “Administer suitable chastisement. Return delinquent at your convenience.” The Scoutmaster made a wry face when the telegram was handed him. “That merely confirms my opinion, Brandon,” he remarked in a low voice. “The lad’s grandfather is not only very precise in his mannerisms; he is evidently a bit of a martinet. I’ll say this for Eric: he might be a queer little chap, but he’s not a sneak. It was only by quite an accident that I found out that he has been frequently thrashed for minor offences. ‘Spare the rod and spoil the child’ might be all very well if carried out with fairness and moderation—although I very much doubt the wisdom of personal chastisement, except under very special circumstances. However, since Mr. Little gives me a tolerably free hand, I’ll return the delinquent at my convenience. That is: we’ll take him along with us, and hand him over to his uncle at Chichester.” “That’s a topping idea, sir!” exclaimed the Patrol Leader. “We’ll do our best to give the lad a good time.”