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PALGRAVE STUDIES IN
EDUCATIONAL FUTURES

Ahuman Pedagogy
Multidisciplinary
Perspectives for Education
in the Anthropocene
Edited by
Jessie L. Beier · jan jagodzinski
 Palgrave Studies in Educational Futures

Series Editor
jan jagodzinski, Department of Secondary Education, University of
Alberta, Edmonton, AB, Canada
The series Educational Futures would be a call on all aspects of education, not
only specific subject specialists, but policy makers, religious education leaders,
curriculum theorists, and those involved in shaping the educational imagination
through its foundations and both psychoanalytical and psychological investments
with youth to address this extraordinary precarity and anxiety that is continually
rising as things do not get better but worsen. A global de-territorialization is
taking place, and new voices and visions need to be seen and heard. The series
would address the following questions and concerns. The three key signifiers of
the book series title address this state of risk and emergency:

1. The Anthropocene: The ‘human world,’ the world-for-us is drifting

toward a global situation where human extinction is not out of the ques-
tion due to economic industrialization and overdevelopment, as well as
the exponential growth of global population. How to we address this
ecologically and educationally to still make a difference?
2. Ecology: What might be ways of re-thinking our relationships with the
non-human forms of existence and in-human forms of artificial intelligence
that have emerged? Are there possibilities to rework the ecological imag-
ination educationally from its over-romanticized view of Nature, as many
have argued: Nature and culture are no longer tenable separate signifiers.
Can teachers and professors address the ideas that surround differentiated
subjectivity where agency is no long attributed to the ‘human’ alone?
3. Aesthetic Imaginaries: What are the creative responses that can fabulate
aesthetic imaginaries that are viable in specific contexts where the emergent
ideas, which are able to gather heterogeneous elements together to present
projects that address the two former descriptors: the Anthropocene and
the every changing modulating ecologies. Can educators drawn on these
aesthetic imaginaries to offer exploratory hope for what is a changing globe
that is in constant crisis?

The series Educational Futures: Anthropocene, Ecology, and Aesthetic Imag-

inaries attempts to secure manuscripts that are aware of the precarity that
reverberates throughout all life, and attempts to explore and experiment to
develop an educational imagination which, at the very least, makes conscious
what is a dire situation.

More information about this series at

https://link.springer.com/bookseries/15418
 Jessie L. Beier · jan jagodzinski
Editors

Ahuman Pedagogy
Multidisciplinary Perspectives for Education in the
Anthropocene
Editors
Jessie L. Beier jan jagodzinski
Horizon Postdoctoral Fellow Department of Secondary Education
Concordia University University of Alberta
Montreal, QC, Canada Edmonton, AB, Canada

Palgrave Studies in Educational Futures

ISBN 978-3-030-94719-4 ISBN 978-3-030-94720-0 (eBook)
https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-94720-0

© The Editor(s) (if applicable) and The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer
Nature Switzerland AG 2022
This work is subject to copyright. All rights are solely and exclusively licensed by the
Publisher, whether the whole or part of the material is concerned, specifically the rights
of translation, reprinting, reuse of illustrations, recitation, broadcasting, reproduction on
microfilms or in any other physical way, and transmission or information storage and
retrieval, electronic adaptation, computer software, or by similar or dissimilar methodology
now known or hereafter developed.
The use of general descriptive names, registered names, trademarks, service marks, etc.
in this publication does not imply, even in the absence of a specific statement, that such
names are exempt from the relevant protective laws and regulations and therefore free for
general use.
The publisher, the authors and the editors are safe to assume that the advice and informa-
tion in this book are believed to be true and accurate at the date of publication. Neither
the publisher nor the authors or the editors give a warranty, expressed or implied, with
respect to the material contained herein or for any errors or omissions that may have been
made. The publisher remains neutral with regard to jurisdictional claims in published maps
and institutional affiliations.

Cover illustration: © jan jagodzinski

This Palgrave Macmillan imprint is published by the registered company Springer Nature
Switzerland AG
The registered company address is: Gewerbestrasse 11, 6330 Cham, Switzerland
 This book is dedicated to the many teachers that have informed and
impacted the pedagogical queries and preoccupations that continue to
compel and inspire us. For jan, the book is dedicated to his teacher and
friend Harry (Zvi) Garfinkle (1922–2021): “He showed me what it means
to be a teacher. The only true genius I ever met.” And for Jessie, this book is
dedicated to her mom, Maureen Beier (1955–2013),
and dad, Paul C. Beier (1951–2018): “They showed me how to learn, even
when it hurts.”
 Acknowledgments

This book would not have been possible without the generosity and
insight of the numerous thinkers that contributed to its instigation and
development. We are grateful to all of the friends and colleagues that
contributed to both the lecture series that prompted this edited book and
those that devoted time and energy to the development of the proposals
for ahuman pedagogy offered within. Thank you to all who traveled to
Edmonton to share and scheme and those that connected with us from
afar: to Katherine Behar, Delphi Carstens, Andrew Culp, Patricia MacCor-
mack, Petra Mikulan, Vicky Osterweil, Sean Smith, Nathan Snaza, and
Jose Rosales. Thank yous are also due to our local colleagues: to Christina
Battle, Adriana Boffa, Marc Higgins, Cathryn van Kessel, Natalie Love-
less, and Jason Wallin, who continue to push the bounds of what is
possible even, and perhaps especially, as the institutions within which
we work and think become increasingly prohibitive to doing weird work
together. We would also like to express gratitude for the funding and
other support provided by the Kule Institute for Advanced Studies (KIAS;
University of Alberta), the Arts-Based Research Studio (University of
Alberta), and the Faculty of Education at the University of Alberta, each
of which helped to catalyze these experiments in ahuman pedagogy by
providing the means and spaces to think and unthink together.

vii
 Contents

1 Introduction 1
Jessie L. Beier and jan jagodzinski

Part I Conjuring an Ahuman Pedagogy

2 Ahuman Occult Pedagogy in Practice 17
Patricia MacCormack
3 The Literacy Situation: Education and the Dispersal
of Politics 35
Nathan Snaza
4 Educational (Im)possibilities During the Necrocene:
Ontological (In)securities and an Ahumanist
Existentialism? 55
Cathryn van Kessel
5 Toward an Unsettling Hauntology of Science
Education 77
Marc Higgins

Part II Machinic (Re)Distributions

6 Mapping Entanglement: Mobilizing the Uncanniness
of Machine-Vision 99
Delphi Carstens

ix
x CONTENTS

7 Transversing Digi-Spaces and Newcomer Youth

Encounters: Considering a Minoritarian Politics
Online 123
Adriana Boffa
8 Practicing the Future Together: Power, Safety,
and Urgency in the Distributed Model 149
Christina Battle

Part III Non-Pedagogies for Unthought Futures

9 “Against” Education: A Roundtable on Anarchy
and Abolition 167
Andrew Culp in Conversation with Jessie L. Beier,
Vicky Osterweil, and Jose Rosales
10 Terminal Protagonism: Negation and Education
in the Anthropocene 191
Petra Mikulan and Jason J. Wallin
11 The Cosmoecoartisan: Ahuman Becomings
in the Anthropocene 213
jan jagodzinski
12 Ahuman Manifestations: When There Is No Outside
(or, a Long, Good Sigh) 275
Jessie L. Beier

Index 295
 Notes on Contributors

Christina Battle is an artist, curator, and educator based

in amiskwacîwâskahikan, (also known as Edmonton, Alberta), within
the Aspen Parkland: the transition zone where prairie and forest meet.
Battle’s work focuses on thinking deeply about the concept of disaster
and the ways in which it might be utilized as a framework for social
change. Much of this work extends from her recent Ph.D. dissertation
(2020) which looked closer to community responses to disaster: the ways
in which they take shape, and especially to how online models might help
to frame and strengthen such response.
Jessie L. Beier is a teacher, artist, writer, and conjurer of weird pedago-
gies for unthought futures. Working at the intersection of philosophy,
artistic production, and radical pedagogy, Beier’s practice experiments
with the potential for weird pedagogy to mobilize a break from orthodox
referents and habits of repetition, toward more eco-logical modes of
thought. Beier is a recent Ph.D. graduate (Department of Secondary
Education, University of Alberta), an artist-researcher with the collabo-
rative research-creation initiative Speculative Energy Futures (University
of Alberta), and an artist-philosopher-in-residence with an educational
network located in amiskwaciwâskahikan (Edmonton Public Schools,
Alberta). She is currently a Horizon Postdoctoral Fellow at Concordia
University and her most recent projects and publications include “Tracing
a black hole: Probing cosmic darkness in Anthropocenic times,” “Ped-
agogy of the Negative: Pedagogical Heresy for ‘The End Times’”

xi
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xii NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

(with Jason Wallin), and the soon-to-be published, collaboratively-created

Energy Emergency Repair Kit (E.E.R.K.). For more information, visit jes
siebeier.com.
Adriana Boffa is a teacher, researcher, writer, mother, and transversal
thinker. She recently defended her PhD in the Department of Secondary
Education at the University of Alberta on Amiskwacîwâskahikan, Treaty 6
territory. Her work intercepts and thinks with the philosophies of Deleuze
and Guattari in order to explore what it might mean to engage with
place and difference differently in a digi-techno society that is everyday
restricting both notions of place and belonging in contemporary public
and educational spaces.
Delphi Carstens is a lecturer at the University of the Western Cape
with an interest in feminist new materialisms, Deleuze-Guattarian theory,
uncanny science fictions, and the apocalypse. He has published widely
on the relevance of these matters to Anthropocene-appropriate HE
(higher education) pedagogy, most recently in Somatechnics, Parallax,
and Philosophy Today.
Andrew Culp is a professor of Media History and Theory at the Cali-
fornia Institute of the Arts, teaching in the M.A. in Aesthetics and
Politics program and the School of Critical Studies. His first book Dark
Deleuze (University of Minnesota Press, 2016) proposes a revolutionary
new approach to the work of Gilles Deleuze to confront today’s compul-
sory happiness, forced visibility, and decentralized control. It has been
translated into over a half-dozen languages. His most recent book is A
Guerrilla Guide to Refusal (University of Minnesota Press, 2022) and
offers a field guide to a nonfascist life at the end of the world as we know
it.
Marc Higgins is an assistant professor in the Department of Secondary
Education at the University of Alberta and is affiliated with the Faculty
of Education’s Aboriginal Teacher Education Program (ATEP). Higgins’
research work is an extension of a longstanding involvement with, in, and
across the fields of Indigenous education, science education, and media-
technology education. Higgins’ research investigates the complexities and
complications that occur through negotiations of Indigenous and Western
modern ways-of-knowing (i.e., epistemology) and ways-of-being (i.e.,
ontology) within educational spaces. In order to work within and against
systems that render these encounters a form of pedagogical violence
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xiii

and/or (fore)closure, Higgins works in the methodological space within

and between Indigenous, decolonizing, post-colonial, and post-humanist
theories in order to think and practice education and educational research
differently around contested curricular concepts (e.g., what “counts” as
science) toward ethical forms of Indigenous–non-Indigenous relationality.
jan jagodzinski is a professor of Visual Art and Media Education at the
University of Alberta in Edmonton, Alberta, Canada. He is series editor
for Educational Futures (Palgrave-Springer) and the author of 17 books,
including recent titles: The Deconstruction of the Oral Eye: Art and Its
Education in an Era of Designer Capitalism (Palgrave, 2010), Arts-Based
Research: A Critique and Proposal (with Jason Wallin, Sense Publishers,
2013), Schizoanalytic Ventures at the End of the World: Film, Video, Art
and Pedagogy (Springer-Palgrave, 2019) and Pedagogical Explorations in
a Posthuman Age: Essays on Designer Capitalism, Eco-Aestheticism, Visual
and Popular Culture as West-East Meet (Springer-Palgrave, 2020).
Patricia MacCormack is a professor of Continental Philosophy at Anglia
Ruskin University Cambridge. She has published extensively on philos-
ophy, feminism, queer and monster theory, animal abolitionist activism,
ethics, art, and horror cinema. She is the author of Cinesexuality (Rout-
ledge 2008) and Posthuman Ethics (Routledge, 2012) and the editor
of The Animal Catalyst (Bloomsbury, 2014), Deleuze and the Animal
(EUP„ 2017), Deleuze and the Schizoanalysis of Cinema (Continuum,
2008), and Ecosophical Aesthetics (Bloomsbury, 2018). Her new book
is The Ahuman Manifesto: Activisms for the End of the Anthropocene
(Bloomsbury, 2020).
Petra Mikulan currently teaches educational foundations, curriculum
theory, and educational ethics in the Department of Educational Studies
at the University of British Columbia, where she completed a SSHRC
and Killam funded postdoctoral fellowship. Her work addresses transdis-
ciplinary intersections between ideas of vitalism and life as they pertain to
ethics, feminist race theory, biopolitics, and post-qualitative reading. She
has published in leading interdisciplinary journals, such as Educational
Theory, Educational Philosophy and Theory, ZDM , Philosophy of Mathe-
matics Education Journal, Delta: Journal for gender studies and feminist
theory, Sodobna Pedagogika. She is the Book Reviews Editor for Studies
in Philosophy and Education.
xiv NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS

Vicky Osterweil is a writer, editor, and agitator based in Philadelphia.

Her book In Defense of Looting (Bold Type Books, 2020) is a history of
rioting and looting as an anti-police, anti-white supremacist tactic in the
US. She is the co-host of Cerise and Vicky Rank the Movies, a podcast
where they are ranking all the movies ever made.
Jose Rosales is a researcher, writer, and editor based in Queens, NYC.
Their work can be found in publications such as Unworking (August
Verlag, 2021), Deleuze and Guattari Studies Journal, La Deleuziana,
Identities Journal, Blindfield Journal, and Riot. Theorie und Praxis der
Kollektiven Aktion (Laika/NON, 2018). They are co-editor of Diversity
of Aesthetics, a forthcoming series of conversations relating to the themes
of Infrastructure Critique, Human Strike & Destitution, and Looting,
featuring friends and accomplices such as Sheyllene Rodriguez, Michael
Rakowitz, Stevphen Shukatis, Vicky Osterweil, Andreas Petrossiants,
Claire Fontaine, and Iman Ganji among others.
Nathan Snaza teaches English literature, gender studies, and educa-
tional foundations at the University of Richmond, USA. He is the author
of Animate Literacies: Literature, Affect, and the Politics of Humanism
(Duke UP, 2019) and co-editor of Pedagogical Matters: New Materi-
alisms and Curriculum Studies (Peter Lang, 2016) and Posthumanism
and Educational Research (Routledge, 2014).
Cathryn van Kessel is an associate professor in the Department of Coun-
seling, Societal Change, and Inquiry in the College of Education at Texas
Christian University. She has been engaging with different conceptual-
izations of evil as well as human existential situations in the context of
education, especially social studies curriculum, among other topics and
contexts. Cathryn is the author of An Education in “Evil”: Implications
for Curriculum, Pedagogy, and Beyond (Palgrave Macmillan, 2019), an
associate editor for the journal Canadian Social Studies, and manages The
Grim Educator open educational resource with information and lessons
for educators.
 NOTES ON CONTRIBUTORS xv

Jason J. Wallin is a fictional character that appears throughout Season 1

of the Canadian sci-fi horror series “Halfsharkalligatorhalfman” (1975–
1976). Created by showrunners Bessie I. Jere and Janka Jodi Zings,
Wallin was brought to screen through the elaborate practical effect
of combining naturally occurring fungal masses and Aerogel. Wallin’s
“sound palette” was created by foley artist Karlie Putnam by boiling
moon rocks in Vantablack cookware. Throughout his run on the series,
Wallin was portrayed as an amateur teratologist and sometimes curriculum
theorist maligned for his pessimistic attitude toward life. Wallin was part
of a running gag established throughout Season 1 in which he would
spontaneously disassemble at the sight of himself.1

1 Jason J. Wallin is a professor of Media Studies and Youth Culture in Curriculum

at the University of Alberta, Canada. He is the author of A Deleuzian Approach
to Curriculum (Palgrave Macmillan) and Arts-based Inquiry: A Critique and Proposal
(Sense Publishers), and co-producer of the extreme music documentary BLEKKMETAL
(Grimposium, Uneasy Sleeper).
 List of Figures

Fig. 6.1 0rphan Drift, 1999, Xes Avatar wall collage, SYZYGY
multi-media installation at Beaconsfield Arts London 104
Fig. 6.2 0rphan Drift, 2017, Husher Avatar (video still),
GREEN SKEEN. single channel HD video collaboration
with Plastique Fantastique. running time 45:00 110
Fig. 6.3 0rphan Drift, 2018, Synthetic (video still), MIASMA.
single channel HD video for Chrominance, Alembic II
at Res Gallery, London. running time 15:00 112
Fig. 6.4 0rphan Drift, 2019, If AI were Cephalopod. 4 channel
HD video installation at Telematic Gallery San Francisco.
running time 11:00 113
Fig. 7.1 Rishma Shariff, 2021, @rishmashariff (with permission).
Voicing her critique of the term “newcomer”
in the NewLearnAlberta Curriculum 2021 draft 126
Fig. 11.1 jan jagodzinski, 2021, earth-representation-
world-for-us-analogue 222
Fig. 11.2 jan jagodzinski, 2021, planet-non-representation-
world-without-us 227
Fig. 11.3 jan jagodzinski, 2021, grasping the cosmological
implications 242
Fig. 11.4 jan jagodzinski, 2021, Lacan’s three diagrams 243
Fig. 11.5 jan jagodzinski, 2021, magnifying the event 244
Fig. 11.6 jan jagodzinski, 2021, possibility of an extinction event 255

xvii
 CHAPTER 1

Introduction

Jessie L. Beier and jan jagodzinski

All-Too-Human Problems
While it is apparent, especially in these times of viral contagion, that
the “human” is not the bounded individual it is so often imagined
to be, there is a danger lurking in the increasingly common claim in
contemporary curricular and pedagogical thought that what is needed is
a decentering of all-too-human forms of subjectivity. While this claim has
catalyzed alternative research methods and conceptual approaches, such
as those within what is often called post-qualitative and/or post-human
studies in the field of education, this claim must also contend with the
ways in which such decentering and fragmentation is not immune, so to
speak, to the imperatives of neoliberal education and its demands for a

J. L. Beier (B)
Horizon Postdoctoral Fellow, Concordia University, Montreal, QC, Canada
e-mail: [email protected]
j. jagodzinski
Department of Secondary Education, University of Alberta, Edmonton, AB,
Canada
e-mail: [email protected]

© The Author(s), under exclusive license to Springer Nature 1

Switzerland AG 2022
J. L. Beier and j. jagodzinski (eds.), Ahuman Pedagogy, Palgrave Studies
in Educational Futures, https://doi.org/10.1007/978-3-030-94720-0_1
2 J. L. BEIER AND j. jagodzinski

fully-automated, dividuated and dividuating, machinic subjectivity. This

is especially the case given the way in which many purported expansions
or dilations of subjectivity today remain subtended by practices and proto-
cols wherein the “human,” even in its decentering, is reinstalled through
racist, gendered, ableist, and classist conceptions of education. Such a
concern is at play when it comes to issues of “diversity” within educational
domains. Where “diversity” is most often promoted as the prolifera-
tion and inclusion of specific forms of identity, it has become a fulcrum
for reproducing the categories used not only for cultural industries to
sell their products, but for political power to target specific populations
in order to promote ideological ends. Here, the educational subject as
“dividual” (Deleuze, 1992) becomes a composite slate of affects, desires,
genders, social class, race, disability, etc.…, where the number of vari-
ables appears as seemingly endless selections (from a drop-down menu,
for instance) that are nevertheless used to code algorithms and target pre-
determined identifiers. Within such examples of educational “diversity,”
the human, and its potential decentering, offers yet another “figure” of
technology, one wherein ongoing self-modulation, dividuation and thus
affective manipulation is seen as central to becoming-educated. Where
liberation and democratic practices have become correlated to what is
deemed “freely chosen,” no company, political party or educational insti-
tution, it seems, can act differently if it continues to operate under
fantasies of diversification that nevertheless reproduce the same. The
“human,” a figure whose very history has been based on a series of neces-
sary exclusions, is what now becomes dispersed in its particularity so as to
uphold and reproduce identitarian politics and their education.
Where, within the field of educational studies, new versions of
phenomenology and hermeneutics, including autobiographical research
characterized by a third person perspective that (often) pretends to non-
objectivity (rather than subjectivity), proliferate alongside post-qualitative
work that draws on philosophers such as Deleuze and Guattari, albeit
in manners often stripped of their radical struggles against, for instance,
the pervasiveness of fascism, the call for a pedagogy that decenters the
“human” must face up to its own unquestioned assumptions and commit-
ments, its own inheritances, lineages, and trajectories. In this sense,
perhaps, the term neo-qualitative research is a much better descriptor
of the purportedly post-oriented directions that now populate the field
of education and its research. Deployments of many educational new
materialisms, such as those that draw on Barad’s (2007) “diffraction
 1 INTRODUCTION 3

methodology,” for instance, forward a neo-Derridean poststructuralism

that remains tethered to anthropocentric visions of life, while many so-
called post-human approaches, such as those that draw on an “affirmative
Deleuze,” do away with Guattari’s more militant ecosophy, thus over-
looking the destructive forces and intensities that constitute anorganic life.
While such examples point to the vexing difficulties of thinking “beyond”
the human and its given forms of education, the claim that education
(and its reasons) must come to terms with today’s transformed and trans-
forming planetary realities—what is sometimes called (with contention)
the Anthropocene—nevertheless persists.
The anthropos of the Anthropocene is founded on illusions of
dominion and control that stem from its very formation through, for
instance, the Gnosticism of the New Testament and its imagining of the
“Primeval Man.” Within this narrative, the “human” has been dreamt up
as the son of “Man,” where Adamas (Hebrew for earth) ends up as the
“first human being,” reinstating or vivifying the very values of destructive
anthropogenic productive labor that must now be mitigated and curbed
so as to, at the very least, delay and stave off the extinction of the genus
Homo. The pervasive narrative that “Man” forwards continues to reign
supreme through, for instance, the trajectories of (interstellar) coloniza-
tion, the first step already taken by billionaire tourist-astronauts where
the rocket (appropriately named New Shepard1 ) does it “all” for you,
not unlike an electric car that drives itself. This shepherding of “Man”
and his desires for endless expansion are concomitant with various forays
into biomimetic innovation, transhumanist evolution, and questionable
forms of accelerationism, all of which must exploit “Nature” in the name
of saving it, or more accurately, in the name of saving “us.” Nature, in
these examples, becomes the “wise” teacher, seen as that which holds
the secrets of sustainable design and de-extinction programming. Tran-
shumanism speaks for itself in its attempts to harness the achievements
of the fourth industrial revolution by converging nano-bio-info-cogito
(NBIC) innovations in order to supersede what is currently perceived as
“human” limits. There is a fatalism to such ambitions, a recognition that
to stave off extinction would require complete body modification so as

1 Owned and led by Amazon CEO Jeff Bezos, New Shepard is a vertical-takeoff,
vertical-landing crew-rated suborbital launch vehicle developed as a commercial system for
space tourism. The name makes reference to the first American astronaut in space, Alan
Shepard, but is also, notably, homophonic with the word “shepherd.”
4 J. L. BEIER AND j. jagodzinski

to survive the changing conditions of today, and tomorrow’s, planetary

realities. These fatalistic trajectories are supplemented by all kinds of old
and new machinic self-learning technologies that lay claim to a knowl-
edge paradigm based on the archives of big data and its potential to
be extracted and employed toward supposedly customizable ends. Like
biomimetic and transhumanist proposals, this appeal to a customizable,
self-managed and self-managing, knowledge paradigm is far from libera-
tory, aimed instead at reinvigorating global capitalism and the ongoing
exploitation of the Earth for economic expansion even as the sky darkens.
Indeed, today’s global pandemics, the drift toward autocracy, ongoing
wars over resources prompted by drought and (so-called) scarcity, the
plastic toxicity of the oceans, increases in volcanic activity, but also
hurricanes and tornadoes, migration by asylum seekers fleeing war-
torn countries, global-supply chain malfunctions on all fronts, and the
change of the Earth’s resonance, point to a very real “phase change”
of natureculture, one that might provoke yet unthought pedagogical
questions and orientations. With this disastrous scenario in mind, alter-
native or “better” attunement to the non-human or more-than-human
relations that characterize life today have been central to the rallying
cry of what might be identified as post-human pedagogies, or pedago-
gies that attempt to extend and apply human inclusivity to all “things.”
Within many post-human proposals lies a vitalism that works to resurrect
and reanimate matter, albeit in ways that remain beholden to all-too-
human forms of life and living. Animals, waterways, trees, and land are
given newfound “rights,” in some cases even treated as people, offering
numerous examples of weak and strong forms of prevailing panpsychism
where human forms of reason and agency are downloaded on to all
“things.” Amidst these animations, process philosophies, such as those
offered by Deleuze and Whitehead, abound, as does the performative
fictioning of mythopoetics, mythotechnics, occult speculations, and the
myth-science of Gnosticism as it has been added to an array of Indige-
nous cosmologies. The potentiality of such pedagogies, however, has yet
to be fully realized as evidenced by various forms of environmental educa-
tion that attempt to incorporate what has become the centering trope of
“ecology” as an all-encompassing word that nevertheless gets distilled as a
“network of things” (not unlike the “internet of things”). While various
forms of open-system thinking are entertained, from complexity theo-
ries to the powerful notion of the negentropy of dissipative structures,
many post-human pedagogies remain beholden to what amounts to a
 1 INTRODUCTION 5

fundamental redemptive narrative where the magical words “ecology” and

“organicity” are asked to do the heavy lifting of “saving the earth.”
Further, while many post-human pedagogies necessitate a recogni-
tion of (digitalized) technologies and their relations with analogical
thinking, as practiced, for instance, through science, technology, and
society studies (STS), they have become hijacked by those advocating
for an ecomodernist manifestation of a “Good Anthropocene.” A “Good
Anthropocene,” as laid out by the optimism of the Breakthrough Institute
and the many references to it in educational TEDTalks, sees “sustain-
ability” initiatives and “green” educational projects as the most “realistic
pathways” forward given current planetary trajectories. Within this opti-
mistic narrative, which now pervades mainstream educational policies and
practices, the different possible futures through which education might
proceed all end with “green” capitalism as the “best” possible outcome.
In all of these articulations of “good” educational futures, which proceed
and proliferate in spite of today’s deleterious trajectories, the theodicy
of the “beautiful soul” (Hamilton, 2016) seems to be a dominant posi-
tion. Central to this is a biophilic preoccupation, or an “innate love
for nature,” which was introduced and popularized now decades ago
by thinkers such as Edward O. Wilson (1984), and has now become
a centralizing narrative for a sector of environmental education and its
accompanying typology of human attitudes toward nature grounded in
biology. Along these biophilic lines, Stephen Kellert (1993) has devel-
oped nine perspectives or valuations of nature, which have had consistent
“staying” power within educational domains where nature is framed as
utilitarian (practical and exploitive), naturalistic (satisfaction from contact
with nature), ecologistic-scientific (systematic study of nature), aesthetic
(physical appeal), symbolic (expressive thought), humanistic (emotional
attachment, strong affection), spiritual (moral and ethical reverence),
dominionistic (mastery), and negativistic (fear, alienation, aversion). All
of these narrative devices are “classically” anthropocentric and are seen as
being “essential” to nurturing childhood in one form or another, espe-
cially when it comes to projecting “Good” Anthropocene futures for
“us.”
While the biophilia hypothesis has no actual “scientific” grounding
(unlike biophobia where there is genetic [DNA] evidence for the fear of
snakes, spiders, or carnivores), it is not without its merits as there is wide-
ranging evidence that shows the psychological benefit of pets (especially
dog and cats) and horses for mediating and relieving stress. The same
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Exploring the Variety of Random
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 It took a great amount of careful handling to avoid the numerous
boats anchored off Duclair. Beyond was the steamer that had
brought up earlier in the evening.

The Olivette swept past within fifty yards of her. Not a soul was
visible on deck, so it was safe to assume that the derelict barge had
drifted past her without colliding with that vessel—otherwise there
would have been great commotion on board.

Rayburn was beginning to think that in the darkness he had

overtaken the barge without sighting her, when he heard a faint
shout, just audible above the noise of the motor. There was no
mistaking that shout: it was one of the Patrol cries of the Milford Sea
Scouts.

A hundred yards or so on the Olivette's port bow was the barge,

drifting broadside on to the current. Not so very far down-stream
were three masthead lights, denoting that vessels were at anchor.
Unless the derelict were promptly secured and towed out of the
fairway there seemed no way of preventing the barge from crashing
disastrously across the hawse of at least one of the three vessels.

"Stop!" ordered Phil, putting the helm over gently. "Touch astern."

In spite of his efforts the Olivette bumped heavily against the side
of the barge. In a trice Hemming jumped and gained the Olivette's
deck but not to stay. He too realized the danger of the heavily laden
barge drifting upon the anchored ships. Picking up the bow-warp
and taking a turn round the bitts, he jumped upon the deck of the
barge and made the end of the warp secure to a bollard.

"Come on, you fellows," he shouted. "Bear a hand."

"Can't," replied Rayburn. "There are only two of us on board.

Roche is at the motor and I at the wheel."
 Making his way aft, Flemming took another warp on board, so that
the Olivette was secured alongside the derelict.

"All fast!" he shouted as he regained the Olivette.

"Easy ahead!" ordered Phil. The initial excitement over, he was now
as cool as the proverbial cucumber.

Very gently Roche let the clutch in, throttling well down so that the
strain on the two hawsers would be taken up gradually and evenly. A
sudden jerk might result in both ropes carrying away, in which case
the barge would be foul of the anchored vessels before she could be
again secured.

By this time the look-out on board the nearmost of the stationary

craft realized that something was amiss. He began hailing in French,
keeping up a torrent of exclamations until the Olivette and her tow
were clear.

"What are we going to do with her?" asked Roche.

"Tow her clear of the fairway, I suppose," replied Flemming. "We

can't stem this tide; that's a cert. She has an anchor on board, but
it's too heavy for me to drop overboard single-handed, or I'd have
done so long ago."

Slowly the Olivette with her tow moved towards the right bank,
then, starboarding helm, she only just held her own against the swift
current.

"Keep her like that!" shouted Flemming to the helmsman. "Now,

Dick; you can leave the motor for a brace of shakes. Come and bear
a hand with the mud-hook. Mind where you tread, old son; the
barge is bunged up with things to trip you up. I've had some."

Even with their united efforts the two Sea Scouts were only just
able to topple the ponderous mass of iron over the bows. Then,
having paid out twenty fathoms of cable, the lads cast off both
warps and jumped on board their own craft.

Roche immediately made his way to the engine-room. The clutch

had not slipped, and the engine was still running in neutral, but the
sight that met his eyes took him completely by surprise and filled
him with dismay. The heavy flywheel was throwing up showers of
water, and the engine-room looked as if one of the fountains of
Trafalgar Square had suddenly been transplanted into the confined
space.

"I say, you fellows!" he shouted. "One of you come down here as
sharp as you can. She's sprung a leak."

CHAPTER XV
All Hands to the Pumps

Leaving the Tenderfoot at the helm, Flemming leapt into the well
and thence into the engine-room.

"It must have been that biff when the barge fouled us!" he
exclaimed. "Look! the floor-boards are awash!"

Eric went to the semi-rotary bilge-pump and began working the

lever desperately. Meanwhile Rayburn had shouted for "Easy ahead."

The moment Roche put the engine in gear the Olivette "squatted",
as she always did when under way; in other words, her bows rose
and her stern dipped correspondingly. The result was that a lot of
water that had found its way into the boat ran aft and the flywheel
no longer gave an aquatic display, but subsequent examination
found that the level of the bilge-water rose nearly six inches above
the floor of the after-cabin.

Flemming kept on pumping for nearly twenty minutes, but the

semi-rotary failed to "suck air". It seemed positive that the pump
was unable to cope with the inflow of water.

"Where are we now?" he asked breathlessly.

Roche passed the question on to Phil Rayburn.

"Nearly there," replied the Tenderfoot. "It's slow work against the
stream."

"We'll have to beach her, I'm afraid," said Flemming.

"No good doing that now," objected Roche; "she'd fill on the rising
tide. Besides, if there's much of a bore here, she'd be damaged still
more. You stand by here, old thing, and I'll give you a spell at the
pump."

"We're nearly there," announced the Tenderfoot. "Who's going to

pick up the moorings?"

Leaving Flemming at the reversing-lever, Roche "knocked off"

pumping and went on deck. Boat-hook in hand, he waited to make a
grasp at the mooring-buoy, to which was attached the water-logged
planks and timbers of what had been a smart, serviceable dinghy.

"I bet that kid makes a bog of it," soliloquized Roche, who knew
from personal experience how easy it is to blunder in picking up
moorings.

But his fears were groundless. With a confidence inspired by

previous success, Phil brought the Olivette to a standstill within a
couple of feet of the mooring-buoy.

"Got it!" yelled Dick as he fished the cork float on board and took a
turn round the bitts with the chain-bridle.

"Finished with the engines," shouted the Tenderfoot.

Flemming cut off the ignition. The motor clanked into a state of
somnolence; then, having turned off the feed to the carburetter, Eric
devoted his attention to the bilge-pump once more.

Presently Roche came below.

"There's not a sign of the others," he announced. "What on earth

can have happened to them, I wonder? It's nearly half-past one."

He caught sight of Rayburn, who was stifling a yawn.

"You did jolly well, Phil!" he exclaimed. "We would have been in a
pretty kettle of fish if you hadn't been here. But you're tired. How
about turning in?"

"I'm not tired, really," protested the Tenderfoot. "I'll take a turn at
the pump if you like."

"Right-o," agreed Dick. "We may have to have spells at it all night;
but I think I'll try to find out where it's coming in and have a go at
stopping it."

Switching on his electric torch, Roche squeezed through the small

doorway between the engine-room and the forepeak. He could hear
an ominous trickle coming from the neighbourhood of the chain-
locker.

Investigations resulted in the discovery that the Olivette's bows had

been badly damaged in spite of the partial protection afforded by the
"pudding" fender. Several planks had been started on either side of
the stem, and although most of the damage was above water-line,
there was a considerable leak where a seam or two had burst.

Procuring some grease and cotton-waste, Dick proceeded to caulk

the faulty seams, but his efforts in that direction were rewarded with
poor success. It was impracticable to use any degree of force,
because the fastenings of the planks were in such a weak state that
the planks themselves began to give; and without ramming the
caulking well home, the cotton-waste would not remain in position.

"Better let well alone," decided Roche. "It's jolly tedious work
manning the pump, but we'll keep the old hooker afloat."

Having reported the result of his investigations, Roche proposed

that each of the three Sea Scouts should take fifteen-minute tricks at
the pump.

"That will give each of us half-an-hour spells," he added. "One or

both of the others can stop on deck to keep a look-out for the liberty
men."

"P'r'aps they are not 'liberty men' any longer," remarked Flemming.
"It's jolly rummy that they haven't shown up before this. Right-o,
Dick; I'll take on with the pumping."

Roche and the Tenderfoot went on deck. The tide was still ebbing.
The wind had dropped, and hardly a sound disturbed the stillness of
the night except the ripple of the water against the Olivette's bows,
and the monotonous chug-chug of the semi-rotary pump.

A steamer's navigation lights appeared up-stream. She was

heading towards the anchored Olivette. Rayburn glanced at his
companion.

"It's all right," said Dick reassuringly. "She's coming round a bend;
that's why she appears end on. She'll starboard her helm in half a
tick."
 But the vessel held on until even Roche began to think that there
would be a collision. He glanced aloft to make sure that the
Olivette's riding-lamp was burning brightly.

The steamer reversed engines, and lost way within twenty yards of
the Olivette. A hoarse voice hailed in an unintelligible patois. Dick
caught but two words, "gabare" and "abandonnée".

"A l'ancre.... A l'autre côté.... Sept kilomètres en bas," replied

Roche, guessing that the strange craft was the tug they had seen
earlier in the night, and that, having missed one of her charges, had
returned in search of the derelict barge.

To his no small satisfaction, Roche found that his halting reply was
understood, for, with a "Merci beaucoup, m'sieu", the skipper of the
tug rang for full speed ahead.

Barely was the steamboat out of sight when the Olivette began to
rock violently. It was not the swell of the tug that had caused the
commotion; it was the turn of the tide and the tail-end of the bore in
a succession of waves of about four feet in height.

The erratic rolling and pitching alarmed Flemming considerably, for

the water in the bilges gushed between the floor-boards and swirled
ankle-deep from side to side.

"She's leaking fast," he shouted.

Roche went below. Already the water was subsiding into the bilges,
but it was evident that, in spite of continuous work at the pump, the
leak was not being kept under.

"It'll be as much as we can do to keep going till daylight," declared

Flemming as he "handed over" to his chum. "The best thing we can
do is to get a bucket going. I'll bale, and pass the bucket up to Phil
for him to sling overboard."
 "Good idea," agreed Roche, turning up his sleeves and grasping the
handle of the pump. "We'll keep her afloat, old thing, even if it
snows ink."

CHAPTER XVI
The Adventures of the "Liberty Men"

The "liberty men" had rather overdone things. Their ramble

through the Forest of Jumièges was too much of an undertaking for
the short space of time at their disposal.

Twilight overtook them almost before they were aware of the fact,
and long before they were clear of the forest it was pitch dark.

"If we keep on in a straight line," declared Mr. Armitage, "we'll

strike the river somewhere. Now, you woodcraftsmen, lead on, or
we'll get no supper to-night."

It was easy to say "Keep in a straight line", but the accomplishment

was difficult. Not only was the ground thickly covered with trees—it
was hilly, and in places rugged. The recognized methods failed. The
Sea Scouts knew that the wind was an easterly one, but in the depth
of the forest there was no appreciable air-current. The foliage
overhead hid the stars, so another guide was denied the benighted
lads.

"Moss and lichen always grow on the north side of a tree-trunk,"

quoted Hepburn. "Where's your torch, Peter? Shine it this way."
 An examination not only of one, but of many tree-trunks, resulted
in the discovery that mosses and lichen were not in evidence. The
third clue had also let the Sea Scouts down.

"Carry on, then," suggested Mr. Armitage, "until we find a path. It's
bound to lead somewhere."

It took twenty minutes' steady progress through the undergrowth

before they found a path. It was narrow and apparently
unfrequented. Once a big animal—about the size of a bullock,
declared Warkworth—crashed through the brushwood about ten feet
ahead of the lads.

"We must have tramped miles," declared Woodleigh. "I believe

we're going round in circles."

"I fancy we're nearly out of the wood," said the Scoutmaster. "I can
feel a breeze. Yes, I thought so."

The edge of the forest at last. It was now nearly eleven o'clock. Far
below could be discerned the sinuous course of the River Seine.
Nearer, and at a fair distance down the hill, lights gleamed from a
small village.

"That must be Le Mesnil," decided Mr. Armitage, after he had

consulted a map by the aid of an electric torch. "It's all plain sailing
now. We'll follow the river bank. It's only six miles to Duclair. Come
on: Scouts' pace, forward."

Encouraged by the Scoutmaster's example, the tired and hungry

lads bucked up considerably. Alternately walking and running fifty
paces they covered the intervening distance in an hour and twenty
minutes, arriving at the landing-place at a quarter past twelve. Old
Boldrigg, now sure of his bearings, followed at a leisurely pace.

"Olivette ahoy!" shouted Peter.

 There was no reply save the mocking echoes of his voice from the
opposite bank. He hailed again, giving the Patrol cry.

"The lazy blighters have turned in," he declared, and hailed for the
third time.

"Where's her riding-lamp?" asked Alan. "I believe she's gone—

broken adrift, or something."

Mr. Armitage already had his doubts on the subject. Bringing out
his night-glasses, he focused them on the spot where the Olivette
ought to have been moored. With difficulty he located the vacant
buoy, to which was attached something low in the water and
straining in the strong tide-way.

"The Olivette isn't there," he declared. "I don't think she's broken
adrift, or the mooring-buoy would have gone with her. I hope Roche
hasn't got into a panic about our late arrival and gone off in search
of us."

"He couldn't expect to find us in the river, sir," remarked

Woodleigh.

"S'pose not," admitted Mr. Armitage. "But to get down to rock-

bottom facts, the Olivette's not on the moorings and we're
benighted."

"Perhaps she was in a prohibited anchorage, sir," suggested Peter,

"and the River Police have shifted her."

"No, I inquired if she would be all right there," replied the

Scoutmaster. "She can't be very far away. Roche would have
dropped the anchor when he found her adrift. Anyone too tired to
join in the search? How about you, Mr. Boldrigg?"

"I am a bit, sir," admitted the old man, who had just rejoined the
others. "But it ain't no good hangin' on to the slack when there's a
hammock waiting for me on board. So the sooner we find the
hooker the better for everyone, says I."

The Sea Scouts retraced their way, keeping to the bank of the river.
There were a few craft under way, but in the darkness it was
impossible to distinguish what they were.

It must have been soon after 2 a.m. that the search-party arrived
at the village of Jumièges. Here, fortunately a rowing boat
containing a belated fishing-party had just returned.

In answer to Mr. Armitage's inquiry, the four people who had just
landed—they were Parisian art-students on holiday—all replied at
once.

"Yes, monsieur, we did see a motor-boat. She passed close, very

close, to our little boat. She was towing a large lighter."

The Scoutmaster felt disappointed.

"I am afraid that is not the motor-boat we are looking for," he said.
"Did you happen to notice any of the crew?"

"I did, monsieur," declared one of the men. "There was but one
visible. He wore a blue blouse and a white hat—so. Like these
messieurs here. The light shone from below upon him, understand;
therefore I could discern. She was going towards Duclair."

"A white boat with a deck-house, sir," corroborated one of his

companions, tracing an outline with his finger. "Towards the front
one little mast but no funnel. Monsieur is benighted? Then perhaps
he would care to accompany us to our lodgings for refreshments."

Mr. Armitage demurred, but the students were pressing in their

invitation. Accordingly the whole party went into the village, and the
Sea Scouts found themselves in strange surroundings—a cabaret.
 The landlord rose to the occasion. The sight of a couple of grown
Englishmen and four English Sea Scouts provoked no comment. In
five minutes the hungry search-party were sitting down to hot coffee
and biscuits, a long roll, and plenty of fresh Normandy butter.

"That is our affair, monsieur," protested one of the students when

Mr. Armitage offered to pay for the refreshment. "When I was a poilu
of the 141st Regiment we were once on the left of an English
battalion. We were hungry and they were well fed—merely a matter
of commissariat, monsieur—and when they found out we were
famished, half their rations were passed into our trench. Monsieur
has served, of course?"

Greatly refreshed, the Sea Scouts bade their hospitable hosts

farewell, and set out to retrace their way back to Duclair.

"Guess we know the way by this time," remarked Peter. "Three

times in one night is about the limit. Do we turn out at seven to-
morrow—or rather, to-day, sir?"

"We're not on board yet, Peter," rejoined the Scoutmaster. "But I

think I'm safe in saying that we'll keep to our hammocks till noon."

But Mr. Armitage's surmise was out, absolutely out. Grey dawn was
showing in the north-eastern sky when the footsore party arrived on
the quay at Duclair. There in the dim light was the Olivette riding to
the flood-tide. In the stillness of the early morning could be heard
the regular pulsations of the hand-pump, while at intervals one of
her crew—it was not light enough to distinguish who it was—was
toppling pailfuls of water over the side.

"Olivette, ahoy!"

This time the hail was answered promptly. Out of the deep, open
well clambered Roche and Flemming slowly and laboriously, for they
were pretty well done up with their night of strenuous toil.
 "They seem in no hurry to come for us," observed Warkworth,
"after we've trudged all the blessed night."

"Ahoy, there!" shouted Roche. "Can you find someone to put you
off? We've no dinghy."

"Then they have had a mishap," declared Warkworth. "I believe I

can see the dinghy astern. She's waterlogged."

The difficulty that now arose was how to get on board. There were
dozens of small boats off Duclair, but no one was about.

"We'll take French leave," decided Mr. Armitage. "Since we are in

France, I take it that in the circumstances it is permissible. Find a
boat with detachable bottom-boards. We can paddle her out all
right, and return her when the owner shows up."

This suggestion was acted upon. The "liberty men" crowded into
the borrowed boat and made their way to the Olivette with but little
difficulty, for the flood-tide was easing off considerably.

The Sea Scouts looked grave when the nature of the damage was
pointed out to them. Would it be possible to continue their trip with
a boat in that condition?

"But we've kept her afloat, sir," declared Flemming triumphantly, as

he displayed his blistered hands. "We've done enough pumping to be
excused duty for the rest of the voyage."

Roche, from below, added:

"We're keeping the leak under and no more, sir. If we knock off for
even a minute the water rises over the floor boards."

"Then it's about time we came," rejoined Mr. Armitage. "We're

nearly on the top of high water. Directly it's slack tide, we'll cast off
and warp into that shipbuilder's yard at the head of the quay. Until
the Olivette is high and dry we cannot see the full extent of the
damage."

An hour later the Olivette was safely placed upon the slipway. Two
very serious-looking Frenchmen conferred between themselves,
shaking their heads and gesticulating as they examined the
damaged bows. The stem-piece was fractured in two places, the
cracks extending diagonal fashion. Four of the planks above water-
line and two below had been "started", and from the bows to a
distance of ten feet aft the caulking had been forced from the
seams. Had it not been for the big "pudding" fender, the Olivette
might have sunk within a few minutes of the collision.

Mr. Armitage anxiously awaited their verdict, so did several of the

crew, but Roche, Flemming, and Rayburn were sleeping the sleep of
utter exhaustion.

"It is a bad business," declared one of the Frenchmen. "We have

not the material for executing repairs here. It will be necessary to
proceed up to Rouen, where, at the chantier of Declos et Cie., the
work can be executed in a proper manner. Meanwhile we ourselves
will stop the leak temporarily, so that your little vessel will, with
safety, make the passage to Rouen."

He was as good as his word. Procuring some white lead, canvas,

and a sheet of zinc, he contrived to patch up the gaping planks, so
that they no longer let in the water; for, when the Olivette was
launched again, it was as tight as a boat could be.

When Mr. Armitage asked for the bill, the little Frenchman
shrugged his shoulders.

"I am but a poor man, monsieur," said the latter, "and these are
hard times. Nevertheless, I, who have been a sailor, would not gain
my bread by overcharging foreign sailormen in difficulties. It is but a
small thing that we have done, monsieur, merely a matter of white
lead and canvas. I therefore charge you twenty francs."
 The Scoutmaster looked at him in astonishment. Allowing for the
present value of the franc, the cost was a little over ten shillings.
Mentally he contrasted the sum with the extortionate bills for
shipwright's work on the other side of the English Channel, and he
no longer wondered why the British merchant ships cross over to
French ports to be "reconditioned".

He paid up willingly, adding five francs as a pourboire, and, with

the wreckage of the dinghy hoisted on deck, the Olivette resumed
her eventful pilgrimage.

CHAPTER XVII
Monsieur Raoul

As it was only a distance of thirty-five kilometres, or, roughly, 23

miles, Mr. Armitage decided to bring up on moorings off Duclair until
the tide changed. This would enable the crew to make up arrears of
sleep, or, at any rate, go a long way towards doing so, while, with
the favourable tide, the boat ought to arrive at Rouen early in the
afternoon.

The Scoutmaster was dubious as to what would happen when the

Olivette did arrive there. It looked as if the cruise would have to
terminate abruptly, while to repair the damage would probably eat
up the whole of the Troop's finances.

He said nothing of this to the lads under his care.

 He was content to let events shape their course, and not to meet
trouble half-way. The youngsters were enjoying themselves, and he
would not place their pleasures under a cloud by as much as hinting
that the cruise of the Olivette would be drastically curtailed.

It was a picturesque stretch of the river that confronted the Sea

Scouts when the voyage was resumed. The Seine made a huge U-
shaped bend, almost encircling the Forest of Roumare on the port
hand, and skirting the Forests of Mauny and du Rouvray to
starboard. On either bank were numerous villages, while
occasionally small islands were passed.

The Olivette was abreast of the Obelisk at Le Val de la Haye, when

her crew noticed a weird sort of craft approaching at tremendous
speed. At first the Sea Scouts could not make head or tail of it.
There was hardly anything to be seen but a triangular girder
appearing above the apex of a double crest of spray, but the noise
the quaint craft made was terrific.

"It's driven by an aerial propeller," declared Peter. "I can see the
glint on the blades as they revolve."

Approaching at a rate of about forty-five miles an hour, the vessel

passed the Olivette "like a streak of greased lightning". That was
Hepburn's definition.

As she passed, the Sea Scouts saw that she was a hydro-glisseur,
her hull composed of three rectangular floats in line ahead and
supporting an aluminium cabin. Right aft was the motor with a triple
chain-driven air propeller. In the bows a tiny Tricolour stood out
stiffly in the breeze. Her crew consisted of two people—one, a
bareheaded mechanic, wearing a blue overall, the other, a youngish
man, the outstanding features of his costume being a velour Alpine
hat, with a tuft of feathers, and a pair of light-yellow kid gloves.

Noticing the Red Ensign flying on board the Olivette, the

Frenchman took off his hat and made an elaborate bow. Not to be
outdone in politeness, the Scoutmaster gave the order, "Alert!" and
while the crew stood to attention he saluted the owner of the
glisseur in scout fashion.

"We ought to have dipped our ensign, I suppose," remarked

Stratton.

"There wasn't time," rejoined Woodleigh. "He passed before you

could count five."

"He's turning!" exclaimed Alan. "I say, what a heel! Oh, look! she's
over!"

Hepburn's exclamation directed the attention of all hands aft. Even

Flemming, who was in the wheel-house, allowed the Olivette to
swing a couple of points out of her course as he looked astern.

The air-propelled craft, extremely sensitive to her helm, had made

too sharp a turn, or perhaps the mechanic had not slowed down the
motor sufficiently. In any case she capsized. For a moment, quite
two-thirds of the under-surface of the floats was exposed. Then,
with a rending crash, the rapidly-revolving propeller blades hit the
water and were shattered into splinters. The next instant the
violently racing engine dipped beneath the surface. A cloud of
steam, as the water came into contact with the hot cylinders,
momentarily hid the scene of the disaster.

Flemming acted promptly. Spinning the wheel hard over, and

shouting to his chum, Roche, to slow down, he brought the
Olivette's bows on to the spot where the glisseur had disappeared
on an unpremeditated submarine excursion.

The owner of the vanished craft was with difficulty swimming

towards his mechanic, who, unable to keep afloat, had sunk for the
second time.
 The Frenchman was obviously handicapped, because he made no
attempt to use his left arm, but, arriving over the place where the
air-bubbles marked the presence of the unfortunate mechanic, he
dived to the latter's rescue.

The pair reappeared together, the mechanic desperately grasping

his master round the neck. With a sudden wrench the latter shook
himself partly clear, then, with a short quick jab with his right fist,
the Frenchman hit the struggling man a stunning blow on the left
temple, grasped him by the collar of his overalls, and waited the
arrival of the Olivette.

Quickly the pair were hauled on board. Three of the Sea Scouts
immediately set to work to resuscitate the half-drowned mechanic,
while the others, in their imperfect French, offered their services to
the owner of the lost craft.

The Frenchman bowed. He had lost his hat.

"Permettez-moi, messieurs!" he exclaimed, and gravely produced a

saturated visiting-card on which were the words "Raoul de la Voie,
Chevalier de la Légion d'Honneur".

Mr. Armitage suggested to his involuntary guest that perhaps the

crew of the Olivette might conduct salvage operations. The boat had
stopped, with her engines running well throttled down, close to the
place where the hydro-glisseur had disappeared, a ready clue being
afforded by the oil rising in a steady, far-spreading stream to the
surface.

Monsieur de la Voie listened with perfect gravity to the

Scoutmaster's halting attempt to put his thoughts into words in the
French language. Mr. Armitage "stuck" badly. His vocabulary was
usually good, but at the present time he had the greatest difficulty in
finding his words, and his dictionary was in one of his portmanteaux
in the after-cabin.
 "Excuse me," remarked the Frenchman, with an almost perfect
English accent, "but if you will kindly talk in English, no doubt I will
be able to follow you better."

"Thanks awfully," replied Mr. Armitage, falling back upon his

mother-tongue. Then he added gravely, "I hope you are feeling quite
chirpy now."

"Chirpy?" queried the Frenchman.

"Chirpy—bucked," prompted the Scoutmaster.

Monsieur de la Voie's face wore a puzzled expression. But he would

not admit defeat, for, producing a saturated pocket-dictionary, he
looked up the perplexing words.

"Ah, yes," he continued, with a smile. "I'm feeling absolutely top-

hole, thank you, notwithstanding an unusual style of bathing in the
Seine. Salvage? Hardly necessary to trouble you, sir; you've done
quite enough for us as it is, but if you will buoy the spot, one of my
barges will conduct the operations. If you will be good enough to
give my mechanic and me a passage to Rouen?"

Monsieur Raoul was little worse for his immersion, but the
condition of the luckless mechanic gave rise to grave misgivings. Not
only had he swallowed a liberal quantity of water: his knee had been
hurt by coming in contact with the girder supporting the aerial
propeller, while, to make matters worse, his master had been
compelled to stun him in order to free himself from his dangerous
clutch.

The owner of the hydro-glisseur was greatly interested in the Sea

Scouts and their craft. He plied the lads with innumerable questions,
and complimented them upon their sound knowledge of
seamanship.
 Very little escaped the notice of the mercurial Frenchman, and
when he caught sight of the scars upon the Olivette's bows he asked
how the damage had been caused.

"And this happened last night, then? It is just possible that I know
who is the owner of the barge that caused the mischief."

"He is a careless blighter, sir, whoever he is, to let a barge break

adrift," declared Hepburn.

"Yes," assented Monsieur de la Vole solemnly. "He is."

CHAPTER XVIII
Shore Quarters

In spite of the delay occasioned by the rescue of the crew of the

hydro-glisseur, the Olivette's run up to Rouen was accomplished by
four o'clock in the afternoon. The historic old town, viewed from the
river, interested the lads beyond measure, while the sight of the
transporter-bridge, a structure one hundred and seventy feet above
the water, and supporting a travelling car that served as a ferry,
appealed to their mechanical instincts.

"Where do you propose going to for repairs?" asked Monsieur de la

Voie.

"We were recommended to the Chantier Declos," replied Mr.

Armitage.
 The Frenchman smiled. "You could not have been better
recommended," he remarked. "It happens that I keep my private
boats in that yard. There it is: on your left hand just beyond that
crane."

The Olivette was safely berthed, and the French mechanic, who
was able to walk with assistance, was sent ashore. His condition
excited a fair amount of sympathy and curiosity on the part of the
workmen; but when Monsieur de la Voie jumped on to the quay his
reception was exuberant.

"One would think they were all touched," remarked Roche.

The workpeople were crowding round and literally mobbing de la

Voie, talking so quickly that the Sea Scouts were unable to
understand a single sentence.

Presently the owner of the hydro-glisseur obtained a certain

amount of silence, and, beckoning to one of the men, led him aside.
For some minutes the pair conversed heatedly, Monsieur de la Voie
smiting the open palm of his left hand with his fist, while the other
man shrugged his shoulders and extended his hands. At length the
latter, evidently unable to hold his own, changed his tone completely.
He appeared to be pleading and expressing regrets. Monsieur de la
Voie dismissed him, and returned to the quayside, where the
Olivette lay.

"I have found out for you who is the cause of your misfortune.
That man is the captain of the tug drawing the barges, and the
rearmost barge broke her tow-rope and ran into your yacht."

"Then he is the careless blighter, monsieur," said Hepburn.

Raoul de la Voie shook his head.

"No, no," he remarked emphatically. "He asked for a new tow-rope

two weeks ago, and the owner neglected to supply him with one. So
it is the owner who is the careless blighter, n'est-ce pas?"

"I should think so, monsieur," agreed Alan. "Do you know who he
is?"

De la Voie laughed.

"Mais oui," he replied. "C'est moi—I am the careless blighter."

Hepburn coloured up and said nothing. The Frenchman eyed him

curiously for some minutes, and then slapped the lad on the
shoulder.

"There is no harm done," he exclaimed. "It is a joke. Let me

explain. I am the actual owner of the Chantier Declos, and these are
my barges. Therefore I am responsible for the damage done to your
Olivette, and I must needs make reparation. I have sent for my
foreman to come and make a report, and put the work in hand at
once."

"Awfully sporting of you, monsieur," said Roche.

"It is a duty," declared Monsieur de la Voie.

Presently the foreman arrived, and at his suggestion the Olivette

was placed in a cradle and hauled up the slipway. Raoul de la Voie
received his subordinate's report and translated it for the benefit of
the crew.

"Your yacht will require a new stem-piece, breast-hook, and seven

new planks forward," he announced. "There will also be several
seams to require caulking, and, of course, painting and varnishing.
My foreman says he hopes to complete the repairs in a week or ten
days."

The news was received with mixed feelings by the Sea Scouts.
They were delighted to know that the grim shadow of a very heavy
bill had vanished, since the genial Frenchman had willingly
acknowledged his liability. But a week or ten days! That meant a
drastic curtailment of the cruise. It would be impossible, in view of
the delay, to carry out the programme.

"We'll have to cut out the Paris trip, lads," said Mr. Armitage.

Poor old Tom Boldrigg looked very much down in the mouth. The
decision meant a lot to him. The opportunity of paying a visit to the
grave of his soldier son was now denied him.

"Paris?" echoed Raoul. "Why not? Is it absolutely necessary that

you proceed by water?"

"Yes, if we went at all," replied Mr. Armitage. "By living on board

we could manage the visit without much expense. Living at an hotel
in Paris is beyond our means. However, we are more fortunate than
I expected. We might have had to return home with empty pockets."

"But you cannot well live on board your yacht while the repairs are
in hand," said Monsieur de la Voie.

"I suppose that's so," agreed Mr. Armitage. "With planks out, and
wet paint about, life on board wouldn't be exactly comfortable.
Perhaps we might hire a fairly large tent and camp out somewhere
away from the town?"

"I think it could be arranged," replied Raoul. "Since I am greatly in

your debt for saving the life of my man Pierre, and for pulling me
out of the Seine, it would be a great pleasure to me if you would be
my guests. My home is at Tourville-la-Rivière, about ten kilometres
up the Seine. There I can provide a tent, and if the weather be
unpropitious there is plenty of room in the house."

The Scoutmaster gratefully accepted the invitation on behalf of the

lads and himself.
 "And," continued his host, "there is no reason why you should not
visit Paris. Although I cannot well afford the time to go with you, I
can arrange for my car to take you to the city, and perhaps you
might like a tour of the battle-fields."

"Which ones, please, sir?" asked Tom Boldrigg eagerly.

"The Aisne and the Marne," replied Monsieur de la Voie. "Why do

you inquire so?"

"Because, sir," replied the old seaman, "I lost a lad on the Marne."

The demonstrative Frenchman grasped Tom's hand.

"And I lost my only brother," he said. "We were on the right of a

British division. Their dash was magnificent. Yes, I remember the
crossing of the Marne. It was there that I gained this and lost that."

With a quick, almost apologetic gesture, he touched the ribbon of

the Legion d'Honneur and then his arm. For the first time the Sea
Scouts saw that he had an artificial hand.

"So now," he continued briskly, "all is practically arranged. If you

will collect what baggage you require, my car will be here at six
o'clock. Meanwhile, excuse me; there are certain business matters to
which I have to attend."

Punctually at the hour, Monsieur de la Voie arrived in a magnificent

touring-car. He had changed his saturated clothes, and was dressed
in a suit of British cut and material.

Behind the car came a workmanlike equipage—a Daimler with a

commercial body. Into the latter the Sea Scouts piled their kitbags
and other gear, Roche and Rayburn being told off to act as baggage-
guards.
 "A low-down trick to do us out of a ride in a top-hole car," declared
Dick, laughing. It was an enjoyable journey, but the thing that
impressed the lads most was the fact that the traffic kept to the
right-hand side of the road. They had noticed this—the Continental
rule—before, but it was the first time that they had been in a vehicle
in France.

"If I had to ride a push-bike out here," declared Warkworth, "I'd

barge into everything, 'cause I'd simply have to keep to the left. And
don't the motors look weird with the left-hand drive?"

The journey was over only too soon, for in less than ten minutes
from the time the car left the shipyard, Monsieur Raoul pulled up
outside a large house standing in extensive grounds that sloped
towards the river.

"There is your tent," he said, pointing to a fairly spacious marquee

pitched on high ground about two hundred yards from the house. "I
telephoned to my steward to have it pitched at once. But first let us
have dinner."

Somewhat awed, the Sea Scouts filed into a big, gorgeously

furnished room, where they were introduced to Madame de la Voie
and Madame Ledoux, Raoul's belle-mère.

Dignified-looking men-servants handed round the various courses,

the nature of most of the dishes being utterly strange to the Sea
Scouts. But even their unfounded misgivings failed to blunt their
keen appetites. Stolidly, and almost in silence, they applied
themselves to the food, while Mr. Armitage chatted to his host and
hostess.

When at length the Sea Scouts proceeded to their shore sleeping-

quarters, they found that there was a camp-bed provided for each of
the crew, and that their kit had been stacked ready for their use.

"We've fallen on our feet," declared Woodleigh, as he turned in.

 "You speak for yourself, young fellah-me-lad!" rejoined Roche. "It
isn't usual to fall on your feet when you sleep. This is the proper way
—on one's side."

Deftly Dick dived between the sheets; the camp-bed tilted

sideways, and the next instant Roche was lying on the grassy floor
of the tent.

Shrieks of laughter arose from his companions, even Mr. Armitage

joining in the mirth at the expense of the discomfited exponent of
the art of "turning in". Without a word Roche picked up his blankets
and remade the bed, then, exercising great caution, he got in again.

"Someone must have capsized me," he soliloquized. "If it weren't

for the fact that we're not in our own quarters, I'd get my own
back."

Ten minutes later most of the lads were asleep. Roche drowsily
turned over, when to his surprise the camp-bed again deposited its
occupant upon the ground.

This time all lights were out, and no one saw Dick's
unpremeditated tumble. Mystified, he groped for his bedding and
once more turned in.

At seven the lads were aroused by the old sea-cry of, "Show a leg
and shine!" Already the sun was pouring down upon the dew-
covered canvas. In the woods near by the birds were singing
blithely.

"Been digging yourself in, Dick?" asked Hepburn.

"No—why?" asked Roche.

Alan pointed to Dick's bed. The wooden trestles had sunk a good
foot into the ground. The mystery of Dick's double eviction was
solved. The camp-bed had been placed immediately above a mole's
tunnel, and, as the earth gave way, the bed had tilted sufficiently to
deposit its occupant upon the ground.

"I thought that you had had a hand in it," declared Roche. "But
come-back-all-I-said. Who's cook? Where's the galley?"

No one knew. The mess-traps had been brought ashore, but

apparently their host had made no provision for cooking breakfast.

"We're in France, remember," said Mr. Armitage, "and in France we

must to a certain extent do as France does. The first meal of the day
—petit dejeuner it's called—is a very light repast—usually coffee,
roll, and butter."

"Oh, I say!" ejaculated the Tenderfoot ruefully. He had a typical

British appetite, and always went all-out for a good breakfast. "And
I'm so hungry."

The Sea Scouts washed and dressed with special care. Somehow
they felt that they must appear "extra smart" as the guests of
Monsieur Raoul. By eight o'clock the interior of the marquee was
cleaned up and the bedding aired and folded; but no signs of a
galley-fire were forthcoming. The lads were reconciling themselves
to a cold meal of bread and tinned beef when a man-servant
appeared and announced:

"Ze breakfast: he is served in ze house, messieurs."

Monsieur de la Voie was not one who did things by halves, for
when the Sea Scouts trooped into the house they found their host
awaiting them and the table spread with an appetizing meal
consisting of coffee, new steaming rolls, fresh butter, eggs, and a
large piece of delicious ham.

Bidden to "tuck in", the lads obeyed with the greatest zest, to the
undisguised astonishment of the servants, to whom the sight of half
a dozen healthy young Britons devouring large quantities of food so
early in the day was a decidedly novel one.

"What is your programme for to-day?" inquired Monsieur Raoul. "As

matters stand, the position is this: you are my guests for ten days,
but I want you to have full liberty of action. You will, of course, want
to watch the progress of the repairs, and no doubt will want to
explore the surrounding country. I assure you it has its good points.
Then, again, there are the projected visits to Paris and to the Marne.
These will take at least three days. It is for you to say when you will
go."

Mr. Armitage warmly thanked his host.

"The weather seems settled," he added; "perhaps it would be

advisable to take advantage of it while it is fine. So if your chauffeur
could run us into Paris——?"

"Certainly," rejoined Monsieur de la Voie.

CHAPTER XIX
Homeward Bound

The crew of the Olivette had a splendid time in Paris, but, since
they met with no adventures and had no scouting, their visit can be
lightly passed over.

They were two days in the French capital, and enjoyed every
minute of the time. Their programme was an ambitious one, carried
out at high pressure. So much so that the Sea Scouts were so
excited and tired upon their return to Tourville-la-Rivière that they
were compelled to "slack" for the whole of the following day.

Then came the long-looked-for tour of the battle-fields.

The day was warm and sultry, but the ride in the powerful car as it
rushed at high speed along the tree-bordered roads was simply
exhilarating.

Old Tom Boldrigg, rigged out in his shore-going kit, was tightly
grasping the bundle done up in the blue handkerchief that he had
brought on board at Keyhaven. Except on the occasion when the kit
was transferred from the Olivette to Tourville-la-Rivière, no one had
set eyes on the bundle until now. It rather puzzled his companions,
and certainly aroused their curiosity; but Tom offered no solution to
the mystery, and the lads refrained from questioning him about it.

At Senlis traces of the Hunnish invaders were apparent, although

much had been done by the industrious inhabitants to rebuild their
shattered dwellings and efface the devastating traces of war. From
that town right on to Château-Thierry the countryside was fast
recovering from the effects of four and a half years' desolation.
Those of the shell-torn trees which had not been uprooted were
hiding their scars under new foliage. The gaunt expanse of crater-
pitted land was covered with ripening corn. Only in places was it
possible to follow the sinuous course of the trenches, while here and
there a system of dug-outs had been left practically intact as a
reminder of the period when that part of France was under the heel
of the Prussian invader.

It was a soul-stirring episode for the Sea Scouts. They were shown
the spot where the British engineers built bridges, under a terrific
fire, to enable the remnants of the Old Contemptibles to cross the
Marne and deal von Kluck's army corps a staggering blow. The line
of advance of General Gallieni's army, rushed up from Paris in a
motley collection of taxi-cabs in the nick of time to stem the Prussian
advance upon the capital, was pointed out to them.

Then to the huge cemetery, where thousands of British lads are

laid to rest, in French soil that is British by sentiment. Here the
Olivette's party was met by a courteous official, who, in answer to
old Boldrigg's inquiry, led the way to a remote portion of the vast
burial-ground.

"Perhaps, Mr. Boldrigg," suggested the Scoutmaster, "you would

like us to leave you for a few minutes."

"No, no, sir," replied the old man. "What I'm going to do isn't
anything to be ashamed of."

He was visibly affected, although he tried to conceal his emotion.

He had completed a pilgrimage that had been the wish of his
declining years, and which might never have been accomplished but
for the assistance of the Sea Scouts.

Standing bareheaded, the lads saw their old friend slowly untie the
blue handkerchief from the bundle. Then he produced a small plant,
its roots carefully protected with damp moss and straw.

"Straight from the garden at home," he said. "An' my boy was that
fond of flowers."

"It will be watered carefully," promised the cemetery official.

"Thank you, sir," replied old Boldrigg gratefully, and, his mission
accomplished, he turned slowly away.

*****

On the ninth day of her compulsory detention at Rouen the Olivette

renewed her acquaintance with her natural element.
 The work of repair had been performed smartly and well, and the
bows were as sound as ever. She had been given a complete coat of
paint that glistened in the bright sunshine.

"Now, lads," began Mr. Armitage, when the crew had re-embarked
and stowed away their gear, "we have to go into matters pretty
closely. By next Saturday Stratton will have to be home if he's to
keep that appointment with the Steamship Company on Monday
week. We have five clear days to spare. What is to be the
programme?"

"Take advantage of the weather while it is fine, sir, and return by

easy stages."

"Quite a good idea," concurred Mr. Armitage. "It often happens

that, when a cruise has to be completed by a certain time, a
homeward start is deferred until the last possible moment. Then the
weather may be boisterous, and the crew are 'in the soup'. Either
they have to overstay their time, or else they've got to make a dash
for it, at great inconvenience and possible risk."

"After all, sir," remarked Peter, "although we haven't carried out our
programme exactly as we planned, it has been a rattling good
holiday."

"And it's not over yet," added Hepburn.

At two in the afternoon the Olivette got under way. On the coach-
roof over the engine-room she carried a new "twelve-foot" dinghy—a
gift from Monsieur Raoul to replace the one they had lost in collision
with the barge.

Their host came on board to wish them bon voyage, and, at the
Sea Scouts' invitation, he agreed to go as a passenger as far as
Caudebec.
 "I am hoping," he said, "to raise a troop of Sea Scouts at Rouen.
The only difficulty that presents itself is the time it occupies to carry
out the work properly. I quite understand that an inefficient troop,
run by a Scoutmaster who does not, or cannot, devote sufficient
time, is worse than useless. However, I am serious about it, and if
the scheme matures, then some day you might see a French yacht,
manned by French Sea Scouts, sailing into your Keyhaven."

"If they do, sir," said Peter, "they'll be sure to meet with a hearty
welcome, although, I'm afraid, I won't be there to join in," he added
regretfully.

With the strong current, the Olivette made a quick run down to
Caudebec, anchoring under the lee of the Dos d'Ane before sunset.
It was now close upon the neap tides, and the bore was not so
much in evidence.

"We've been done out of a little excitement," was Hepburn's

comment after the Olivette had encountered the comparatively mild
tidal wave.

"You speak for yourself, old thing," rejoined Roche. "I've still a lump
on my forehead where I bashed my head against the deck-beam as
the old boat stood on her head. In my opinion, bores are a nuisance,
whether they are of the human variety or otherwise."

Monsieur Raoul de la Voie took his departure at Caudebec. He bade

the Sea Scouts farewell and bon voyage, and the lads heartily
thanked him for his kindness and hospitality.

"He's a proper sport," commented Roche.

"There was a time when I thought all Frenchmen wore stove-pipe

hats, pointed moustachios, and tufts of hair on their chins. Going
abroad widens one's outlook," he added sapiently.
 Two days were spent at Caudebec. There was much to be done to
prepare the Olivette for her homeward voyage. Her fuel-tanks had to
be replenished, her oil-supply renewed, provisions and fresh water
to be shipped on board, and various formalities to be carried out
with the port authorities at Havre.

"We start to-morrow, lads," announced Mr. Armitage. "The fine

weather is holding, but there are indications of a break-up in the
course of the next forty-eight hours. We can't afford to be held up
here."

"At what hour, sir?" asked Peter.

"Seven in the morning at high-water," replied the Scoutmaster.

"With luck, we ought to be inside the Wight before sunset."

Promptly to the minute on the following morning the anchor was

weighed, and the motor began its rhythmic purr. To save time, the
Tancarville Canal route was to be cut out in favour of the passage of
the estuary of the Seine, and, in accordance with the port
regulations, a pilot had to be employed.

The pilot came on board just before seven o'clock. He was a short,
bow-legged, elderly man, differing very little in appearance from the
seafaring fraternity on the other side of the Channel, except that his
knowledge of English was rather meagre.

Peter Stratton was at the helm, the pilot standing beside him.

All went well for the first ten minutes or so, then a brigantine in
tow of a tug appeared in sight round a bend abreast of the village of
Villequier.

"Tribord tout!" ordered the pilot.

Peter, considerably astonished to receive the order, for he was

aware that "tribord" was the equivalent for "starboard", promptly
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