‘The trouble was the same in both cases,’ I explained: ‘no member of either crew had thought of finding out how to stop the engine. When the first crew reached their home bay, they were sure only of one thing: when the petrol was all used up the engine must stop. So round and round and round the bay they sailed her, all through the night and into the morning, while the folk on shore kept watch, until the strange brute stopped at last, and they rowed to land.’

‘That’s not true?’

‘But the second crew, going to a different place, were not so patient. They surveyed the hot whirling roaring mass with cold unfriendly eyes. Moreover, what if the thing never stopped? What if it never stopped at all? They considered the matter gravely, for if they touched some little sticking-out thing, what guarantee had they that they wouldn’t get some awful shock or that the whole thing wouldn’t whirl into flying bits that would sink her? After all, they knew it was as strong as sixteen horses. And even fourteen horses are no joke, as we know. So it was a very real problem to them. And in the end they solemnly decided the only thing to do was to smother the whole sixteen at once. “We’ll try it whatever,” said the skipper calmly, and when each man had his suit of oilskins bunched against his stomach, he gave the word to fall on, and the five of them fell bodily upon the mechanism, jamming home the oilskins as they did so. The sixteen horses gave one gasping cough and died. The men stood back. “That seems to have settled them,” said the skipper. “You can get out the oars.”’

‘Did Eoin tell you those stories?’ asked the Crew.

‘Well, maybe he did,’ I admitted.

She kept on laughing, but half in excitement, for here we were at Ardtreck Point (as in Admiralty chart; but Ru aird Tearc in Sailing Directions), and now we were round it, and there in front of us—the bay and the very pier itself.

The Clyde Cruising Club had worked its big magic!