Chapter XXI: The Eve of the Jamboree

“I can’t see any sign of the _Merlin_,” declared Brandon, after scanning the numerous craft at anchor. Already, during the last half-hour new arrivals had taken up their berths, so that the _Kestrel_ was by no means on the fringe of the fleet.

“That’s strange,” rejoined Peter. “I wonder where she is?”

“I’ll make enquiries,” said Mr. Grant, overhearing the conversation. “I must go aboard the Chief Sea Scout’s yacht to report our arrival and will find out whether the _Merlin_ has arrived. Bring the dinghy alongside, please, Brandon.”

The three Wootton Sea Scouts had taken their departure and were alongside their parent craft when their arrival was greeted with acclamation by their chums.

Spic-and-span in their best jerseys, Brandon and Craddock manned the dinghy and rowed their Scoutmaster to the flagship, which was surrounded by a swarm of small boats and invaded by dozens of Scoutmasters attending a conference on the programme for the next ten days.

Having put Mr. Grant on board, Brandon and his chum “laid off,” keeping their dinghy clear of the yacht’s accommodation ladder. Then they got busy, “easing their jaw tackle,” to use a nautical expression, for the crews of the various dinghies were holding an informal jamboree on their own account and exchanging reminiscences.

There could be little doubt that the great gathering of Sea Scouts would turn out to be a huge success. Not only were the neighbouring Troops well represented; some came from Great Yarmouth, Lowestoft, Grimsby, and Hull, and even from far-off Aberdeen. From the West Coast, the Clyde was well represented, as well as Troops from the Mersey, Pembroke, Swansea, Cardiff, and Bristol. All these Troops were fortunate in possessing fairly large and seaworthy craft, many of them “drifters” with auxiliary motors.

Other Sea Scouts living in inland districts—it may sound strange to have to relate, but most efficient Troops have been formed at places on various rivers—had not been deterred from appearing at the Jamboree. Some of them—those from Nottingham, for example—had made the voyage by canal as far as Godalming, completing the journey by having their whalers placed on rail. Others, unable to make use of the inland waterways, had come the whole way by rail; while one enterprising Troop from Worcester had demonstrated how grit and ingenuity could surmount almost any obstacle.

Their craft was a 27-foot ex-naval whaler and was too long to be accommodated on an ordinary railway goods truck. Besides, they were not well off and could ill afford the expense. But they were determined to be present at the Jamboree, and they were. They had constructed a special carriage mounted on a pair of heavy motor-lorry wheels. This they attached to the Scoutmaster’s car, placing the whaler on the “cradle.” Some of the crew travelled in the boat; others by cycle, since the lumbering vehicle could not go more than eight or ten miles an hour. At night they slept in the boat, which was covered with a waterproof awning.

Others, possessing smaller boats, had trekked to the rendezvous; while in many cases Troops had arrived without craft of any description and were accommodated in tents.

Not only was Great Britain well represented. There were contingents from France, Belgium and Holland, and quite a strong Troop of hefty, flaxen-haired, fair-complexioned Sea Scouts from Denmark, most of whom spoke English and had already made the acquaintance of British Scouts at the recent Copenhagen meeting.

The organisation, too, was as perfect as human experience could devise. One of the chief considerations, an ample supply of good drinking water, was provided. There was an efficient transport service between the landing-place and the city of Chichester, from whence provisions and stores were obtained. Special precautions had been taken to provide a safe bathing-place under strict supervision; while a proper postal service had been instituted.

This much and more Brandon and Craddock learnt from their new-found chums, and apparently there was much forthcoming about which the lads were as yet metaphorically “at sea.”

In about half an hour, Mr. Grant appeared on deck and was rowed back to the _Kestrel_.

“The _Merlin_ hasn’t reported, lads,” he announced. “Perhaps she’s had to put in somewhere. It’s no use expecting her this evening. There’s not enough water on the Bar until to-morrow morning. Now, Eric, my lad, I suppose the next thing to be done is to hand you over to your relations.”

“Surely, sir, there is no immediate hurry,” protested the stowaway. “If you have no objection, perhaps I might be permitted to remain for part of the impending entertainment? It occurred to me, sir, that I should like very much to become a Sea Scout.”

Mr. Grant turned to his crew.

“What shall we say, lads?” he asked.

There was a unanimous response in favour of Eric being allowed to stop on board. In spite of his old-fashioned ways, the boy had made himself well liked.

“Very well, then,” agreed the Scoutmaster. “I’ll run into Chichester to-morrow morning and see your uncle. But I’m afraid we can’t make you a Sea Scout. You’re not old enough, Eric; but there’s no reason why you shouldn’t become a Cub, and then when you are old enough you can become a Scout. Now, lads, who’s for the shore? A good sharp tramp is the thing. One of you must remain on board. Who’ll volunteer?”

Talbot said he would.

“Good man!” exclaimed Mr. Grant. “Keep a smart look-out for signals from the Chief Sea Scout’s yacht. That’s about all, I think. By the by, we’ll have to patch up the dinghy’s gunwale to-morrow. It looks a bit of a wreck.”

With the exception of the volunteer ship-keeper, all hands went ashore, leaving the dinghy on the hard. Proceeding between the avenue of tents where swarms of Sea Scouts were in various stages of “getting all ship-shape,” they gained the open country—a flat but rather pleasing bit of Sussex lying between the harbour and the open sea.

“How firm the sand is!” exclaimed Carline when the lads gained the seashore. “Look! There are fellows riding bicycles on it.”

“And isn’t the tide out?” added Wilson. “When we came in there weren’t any shoals showing.”

“That’s why we had to choose high-water,” remarked Mr. Grant. “Those shoals, although consisting of sand, are quite as dangerous as rocks. A vessel might be pounded to bits in a few minutes if she chanced to get ashore in heavy weather. There’s hardly any wind this evening—it’s almost a flat calm—but you can see the rollers breaking on the exposed edge of the shoals. This harbour happens to be the worst beaconed on the south coast, and in some respects one of the most dangerous ones. If it comes on to blow for any length of time, we might be kept here for a month.”

“How jolly that would be!” exclaimed Wilson.

“I’m afraid you’d feel rather fed-up before the month had passed,” observed the Scoutmaster. “Any place, however much it appeals to you at first, becomes positively irksome if you’re kept there against your inclinations. Well, there’s no sign of the _Merlin_ in the offing. It’s a pity, because it looks as if she won’t be able to take part in the opening sailing race to-morrow afternoon for the Silver Cup.”

“Are we racing, sir?” asked Craddock eagerly.

“Rather.”

“Good egg, sir!” exclaimed Peter.

“Time to be on our return journey,” observed Mr. Grant, consulting his wristlet watch. “We must be on board before sunset.”

His listeners wondered why. They soon found out; for on returning to the _Kestrel_ they noticed the Sea Scouts on the various craft mustered on deck. A bugle sounded. Everyone stood at the Alert, while a forest of burgees and ensigns fluttered to their respective decks. Then in the gathering gloom innumerable riding-lights were hoisted in position.

It was the eve of the Jamboree.