“Then tell Eric the news,” continued Mr. Grant. “Or, better, send him down to me. Get under way as sharp as you can, Brandon. The _Merlin_ has a good start, but with luck we ought to rejoin her before sunset.” CHAPTER XVI The _Kestrel_ to the Rescue The Sea Scouts needed no second bidding to get under way. The remote possibility of being able to overhaul the _Merlin_ acted as a spur. By this time each lad knew his particular duty, and in very quick time main and mizzen sails were set, head-sails hoisted in stops, and the cable hove short. Then, at the Patrol Leader’s word of command, the anchor was weighed and stowed in its customary place, the jib and staysail were broken out and trimmed to catch the favouring breeze, and within five minutes from the order to get under way the _Kestrel_ was heading for the distant Solent. Already the _Merlin_ was hull-down, only her canvas showing above the skyline. She was roughly eight miles ahead. Outside Swanage Bay the wind freshened, coming offshore in irregular gusts that swept over the lofty chalk cliffs of Ballard Down. The tide was still running to the east’ard with considerable strength, but there was very little sea to speak of. Even a sailing dinghy could be out without any danger of shipping water. Presently a craft under sail and motor overtook the _Kestrel_. It was a flat-bottomed contraption measuring, perhaps, twenty feet in length, and was propelled by an outboard motor. Brandon regarded the boat critically. It certainly looked a freak. Apparently the designer had originally intended to give her plenty of beam and a broad transom; but, changing his mind, had tapered the stern until it was about nine inches in width. Consequently, and owing to the weight of the heavy engine clamped on the stern, the boat had very little bearing surface aft and a small amount of freeboard. In the stern-sheets sat a fat-faced, smug-looking individual rigged out in a peaked cap and blue reefer coat with brass buttons. His profile reminded Brandon of a parrot, for his nose was inclined to be hooked, while from underneath a pair of full lips an insignificant receding chin heightened the resemblance to a bird. The rest of the “crew” consisted of three women and two children. The sheet of the lugsail, Brandon noticed, was made fast. As this freakish craft overhauled the _Kestrel_, passing her at a distance of about twenty yards to wind’ard, the brass-buttoned helmsman favoured the Sea Scouts with a superior sort of smile. “What a comic outfit!” exclaimed Craddock to his chum. “That chap evidently thinks he’s the goods.” “He’s certainly pleased with himself at having overhauled us,” rejoined the Patrol Leader. “But wait a bit. There’s a patch of broken water ahead. Let’s see how that old orange-box will take it.”