rdingly despatched.

"That's better," said Tommy with a sigh. "Now we're on the safe side.
There's many a good yachtsman died of cold through neglecting these
simple precautions." Then jumping up and looking round he added
cheerfully: "We shall be able to sail the whole way up; the wind's
dead east and likely to stay there."

"I suppose you'll take her out on the engine," I said. "This is a nice
useful ditch, but there doesn't seem to be much water in it for fancy
work."

Tommy nodded. "You go and get in the anchor," he said, "and I'll see
if I can persuade her to start. She'll probably break my arm, but
that's a detail."

He opened a locker at the back of the well, and squatted down in front
of it, while I climbed along the deck to the bows and proceeded
to hand in several fathoms of wet and slimy chain. I had scarcely
concluded this unpleasant operation, when with a sudden loud hum the
engine began working, and the next moment we were slowly throbbing our
way forwards down the centre of the channel.

The Ray runs right down to Southend Pier, but there are several narrow
openings out of it connecting with the river. Through one of these
Tommy steered his course, bringing us into the main stream a few
hundred yards down from where we had been lying. Then, turning her
round, he handed the tiller over to Joyce, and clambered up alongside
of me on to the roof of the cabin.

"Come on, Neil," he said. "I've had enough of this penny steamer
business. Let's get out the sails and shove along like gentlemen."

The _Betty's_ rig was not a complicated one. It consisted of a
mainsail, a jib, and a spinnaker, and in a very few minutes we had set
all three of them and were bowling merrily upstream with the dinghy
bobbing and dipping behind us. Tommy jumped down and switched off the
engine, while Joyce, resigning the tiller to me, climbed up and seated
herself on the boom of the mainsail. She had taken off her hat, and
her hair gleamed in the sunshine like copper in the firelight.

I don't think we did much talking for the first few miles: at least I
know I didn't. There is no feeling in the way of freedom quite so fine
as scudding along in a small ship with a good breeze behind you; and
after being cooped up for three years in a prison cell I drank in the
sensation like a man who has been almost dying of thirst might gulp
down his first draught of water. The mere tug of the tiller beneath my
hand filled me with a kind of fi