"now, you fellows, avast yarning," cautioned scoutmaster armitage. "you'll all be as limp as rags when it comes to turning out to-morrow."
the buzz of voices from the crowded fo'c'sle ceased. ten boys, packed, like sardines in a triangular compartment twenty feet by ten, had had considerable difficulty in turning in. each of the iron cots on either side had its blanketed occupant; two sea scouts were lying on the floor. it was "sleeping rough" with a vengeance; but, as these conditions were "for this night only ", the youngsters made the best of things and rather enjoyed the situation.
"i hope your cot-lashing's strong enough," said desmond drowsily, addressing woodleigh, whose hefty person was barely a couple of feet above the speaker. "if that carries away you'll flatten me out, old son."
"it's all right," rejoined woodleigh with a yawn. "night-night, old thing."
in less than a minute woodleigh was asleep, his example being quickly followed by the rest of the olivette's crew. but not so the three supernumeraries. in strange surroundings they could not help keeping awake.
"what's that noise, desmond?" whispered hayes. "it sounds like water pouring in. is she leaking, do you think?"
"no," replied the patrol leader. "it's the tide rippling past the boat's side."
five minutes later hayes declared that there was another weird noise.
"mooring chain rubbing against the boat's forefoot," explained desmond. "for goodness' sake don't keep on chattering. i want to get to sleep."
"it's not that i mean," persisted the lad. "there's a sort of gnawing sound. can't you hear it?"
"rats!" ejaculated the patrol leader.
hayes kept silent for a considerable time. he was not altogether sure about the sense in which desmond had used the word "rats". he might have meant it as a deprecatory ejaculation. he hoped that he had, because he was afraid of rodents. it was a fear that he had never yet been able to conquer, although in other respects he was a plucky little youngster.
the gnawing sound began again. hayes, who was sleeping, or rather lying on the floor on top of a number of blankets, realized the possibility of the rat gnawing a hole through the panelling of the fo'c'sle. in that case he being on the floor would be the one to be favoured with the brute's attention.
doubling his fist hayes tried to thump the floor in the hope of scaring the rat. unfortunately he forgot that the olivette's tenderfoot, little willis, was occupying a made-up bed close to him. so instead of smiting the board hayes dealt his opposite number a hefty whack in the ribs.
"what's that for?" demanded the astonished willis, only half awake in spite of the blow.
"rats," whispered hayes hoarsely.
"silly owl!" retorted willis. "if you are trying to be funny——"
"i'm not," interposed the other seriously. "there are rats on board. sorry, i didn't mean to biff you. i was trying to scare them away. listen."
both lads listened. beyond the occasional rasp of the mooring-chain and the steady ripple of the wavelets there was silence.
"you've scared it," said willis at length. "we get a rat on board occasionally—when we are lying alongside a quay. it's nothing to make a song about. you'll soon get used to it. it's in the bilges if it's anywhere. no chance of getting in here. 'sides, the poor blighter would be scared stiff."
the last sentence trailed off almost into an incoherent whisper. willis was asleep again.
hayes lay awake listening for quite another half-hour; then, dimly conscious once or twice that the intermittent gnawing was going on, he too fell into a deep sleep.
suddenly the silence of the confined space was rent by a frenzied yell, followed by a heavy double crash. in an instant every sea scout was awake, and a scene of utter confusion followed as the lads barged into each other and tripped over the writhing bodies of their comrades on the floor.
roused by the uproar the two scoutmasters hastened from the after-cabin, mr. armitage going through the engine-room and by the sliding door leading to the fo'c'sle, while mr. graham gained the deck, went for'ard, and reached the hatchway to the sea scouts' sleeping quarters.
simultaneously both scoutmasters flashed their electric torches upon the scene.
"pull yourselves together, lads!" exclaimed mr. armitage firmly, although he was quite at a loss to account for the chaotic state of the fo'c'sle. "patrol, alert!"
the order had the desired effect. the scouts' equivalent to the military "'shun" was obeyed with an alacrity that would have earned the approbation of the strictest regimental sergeant-major. promptly the lads "sorted themselves out" and stood still, blinking solemnly at the dazzling cross-rays of the two scoutmasters' torches.
"tell me what you know of this business, woodleigh," continued mr. armitage, addressing the patrol leader.
"i hardly know anything, sir," replied woodleigh, conscious of a steadily rising bump on his forehead and a pair of barked elbows. "something disturbed me. i sat up and barged my head on the deck-beam. then my hammock gave way and i cannoned off desmond on top of somebody else."
"it was my fault, sir," declared desmond. "some of us were talking about rats before i went to sleep, and i must have dreamt that a rat was nibbling my toe. i remember sitting up and shouting out and bumping the under side of woodleigh's cot with my head. then woodleigh's cot-lashings carried away, and he rolled out on top of me."
"i should hardly have expected to find that you were subject to silly nightmares, desmond," observed mr. graham, who was beginning to shiver in the night air as he hung over the open fore-hatch.
"i don't think it was a nightmare, sir," protested desmond. "a rat bit me."
in support of this assertion he held up a bare foot. there was blood oozing from a double puncture on the big toe.
mr. armitage examined the injury.
"you've knocked your toe against something, my boy," he said. "a nail perhaps. wash your foot in lysol and fresh water and put some lint to it."
he glanced at his wristlet watch. it was half-past three.
"i don't suppose you fellows will get to sleep again," he remarked briskly; "so get dressed and have something to eat. we'll make a start and get under way as soon as possible. come on, graham, it's a bit draughty up there, and you look shivery. let's get dressed."
the two scoutmasters returned to the after-cabin.
"that lad desmond wasn't dreaming, graham," remarked mr. armitage quietly. "i didn't want to alarm him, but it was a bite right enough. we'll have to smoke that rat out as soon as it gets light enough."
desmond's assertion was not lacking in supporting evidence. a few days previously flemming had invested in a pair of shoes, and, having walked a good distance in them, had galled one of his heels. to relieve the sting and to soften the tough leather flemming had rubbed russian tallow on the heel of his stocking.
tallow being a delicacy to which rats are particularly addicted, it was not so very surprising to learn that the rodent, who had taken up his temporary abode on board the olivette, had been attracted by flemming's sock. not only had the tallow disappeared but four square inches of wool had gone the same way.
then hayes discovered a gnawed hole in his haversack, and woodleigh noted with considerable misgivings that one of his shoes looked a bit ragged. mr. rat had been quite impartial in his attentions, and had he not nibbled desmond's toe he might have taken toll from every sea scout on board.
while breakfast was being prepared findlay engaged upon a tracking stunt in the fo'c'sle. it did not take him long to find the rat's mode of entering. there was a hole through the side of one of the lockers, the ragged edges bearing testimony to the sharpness of the animal's teeth. from the for'ard partition of the locker another hole communicated with the chain-locker. here the trail ended. it was impossible for the rat to have got into the chain-locker through the narrow metal-bound aperture that allowed the "ranged" cable to run out. the only explanation of the rat's method of getting into the locker was that at some recent time the lid must have been left open.
the next step was to find out the rodent's hiding-place. there was no other hole between the fo'c'sle and the engine-room. all the lockers were examined. the floor fitted too well to allow the animal to find a refuge in the bilges.
"i don't think we need try smoking the rat out," decided mr. armitage. "the only feasible conclusion we can come to is that the brute made its escape through the open scuttle. in all probability the rat has rejoined his brothers and sisters in a hole under the piles of the quay, and is regaling them with a story of wondrous adventures with the sea scouts of the olivette."
