The reply was: “Hayling Island and Bembridge lifeboats proceeding to your assistance. Have requested Government tugs to be sent from Portsmouth.” The _Lumberjack_ then wirelessed: “Must take to boats.” Followed by a warning from the shore station: “Do not attempt to land in your boats.” Then came the distressed vessel’s final and uncompleted appeal: “Send help quickly. We are——” Craddock did not wait for the Scoutmaster’s return. In fact, he rather surprised the Berwick lad by his abrupt and hasty departure. He took to his heels and ran as fast as he could to Mr. Grant and told him the news. “The _Lumberjack_ is the tramp we were lying close to at Dartmouth,” he added. “Yes,” replied Mr. Grant. “And judging by her reported position she’s aground not far from the mouth of this harbour. I don’t suppose we’ll be of much use, but we’ll see what’s to be done. Get the patrol together, Brandon. See that we’ve first aid outfits, and bring a coil of two-inch rope along. Warn any Scoutmasters you pass on your way to the store, but I think most of them will have heard of it already.” It was now nearly half-past ten. The heavy sea fog had held all the evening and was now spreading inland, promising to get thicker before very long. Overhead the stars were rapidly disappearing from view. The air was perfectly still, yet even at that distance the muffled roar of the surf on Chichester Bar and the adjoining Pole Sand could be distinctly heard. In remarkably quick time the _Kestrel’s_ crew assembled. Most of them had electric torches. Heavitree had brought a lifebelt, while Brandon had got hold of not only a long length of two-inch rope, but also a useful coil of heaving line. “Couldn’t we run the dinghy over on a trek-cart, sir?” asked Talbot. Mr. Grant shook his head. “It would be useless,” he decided. “You’ve seen the breakers on that flat, sandy shore. No boat could possibly be launched in that turmoil. All ready?” The crew set out. They were not alone, for already various Scoutmasters had called out their Troops in order to patrol the beach in case any of the _Lumberjack’s_ people were cast ashore. By this time the fog over the land had thickened considerably. It was hardly possible to see the outlines of the hedges on either side of the narrow lanes, and in the darkness the only way to find the right road was for a Sea Scout to swarm up the various sign-posts and flash his torch upon the painted directions. Unfortunately all the would-be rescuers took the same route, with the result that when they arrived on the beach they were all bunched together, instead of being spread out over a wide front. They could see-nothing; hear nothing but the thunder of the breakers in the still air. Mr. Grant realised the difficulty. Each Scoutmaster had control over his own Troop, but there was no one to exercise authority over the whole.