As occasionally happens on exceptionally fine days in late spring, the perfect clearness of the afternoon was gradually beginning to give place to a sort of fine haze.  It was not thick enough, however, to bother me in any way, and under a jib and mainsail the Betty swished along at such a satisfactory pace that I was in sight of Gravesend Reach before either the light or the tide had time to fail me.

I thought I knew the entrance to the creek well enough by now to run her in under sail, though it was a job that required a certain amount of cautious handling.  Anyhow I decided to risk it, and, heading for the shore, steered her up the narrow channel, which I had been careful to take the bearings of at low water.

I was so engrossed in this feat of navigation that I took no notice of anything else, until a voice from the bank abruptly attracted my attention.  I looked up with a start, nearly running myself aground, and there on the bank I saw a gesticulating figure, which I immediately recognized as that of Tommy.  I shouted a greeting back, and swinging the Betty round, brought up in almost the identical place where we had anchored on the previous night.

Tommy, who had hurried down to the edge of the water, gave me a second hail.

“Buck up, old son!” he called out.  “There’s something doing.”

A suggestion of haste from Tommy argued a crisis of such urgency that I didn’t waste any time asking questions.  I just threw over the anchor, and tumbling into the dinghy sculled ashore as quickly as I could.

“Sorry I kept you waiting, Tommy,” I said, as he jumped into the boat.  “Been here long?”

“About three hours,” he returned.  “I was beginning to wonder if you were dead.”

I shook my head.  “I’m not fit to die yet,” I replied.  “What’s the matter?”

He looked at his watch.  “Well, the chief matter is the time.  Do you think I can get to Sheppey by half-past nine?”

I paused in my rowing.  “Sheppey!” I repeated.  “Why damn it, Tommy, I’ve just come back from Sheppey.”

It was Tommy’s turn to look surprised.  “The devil you have!” he exclaimed.  “What took you there?”

“To be exact,” I said, “it was the Betty”; and then in as few words as possible I proceeded to acquaint him with the morning’s doings.  I was just finishing as we came alongside.

“Well, that’s fine about the powder,” he said, scrambling on board.  “Where’s Gow?”

“Joyce sent him off for a holiday,” I answered, “and he hasn’t come back yet.”  Then hitching up the dinghy I added curiously:  “What’s up, Tommy?  Let’s have it.”

“It’s Latimer,” he said.  “I told you I was expecting to hear from him.  He sent me a message round early this morning, and I’ve promised him I’ll be in the creek under the German’s bungalow by half-past nine.  I must get there somehow.”

“Oh, we’ll get there all right,” I returned cheerfully, “What’s the game?”