The captain's bronzed face paled, as the full significance of the news burst upon him.
"Come along and show me the place where you can see the schooner," he commanded, and started to run, followed by the whole party.
They had not far to go. At a place where the earthquake had rooted out a monster tree, a clear view could be had of the entire lagoon.
There lay the Bertha Hamilton, straining at her cable in the commotion of the waters that had been stirred up by the earthquake. And there was the small boat tossing about like a chip. But the captain wasted not a second glance at these. He had seized his binoculars and his gaze was fixed upon the reef. As he looked, his visage became ashen.
The passage through which the ship had come into the lagoon was entirely closed!
A barrier had been thrown up from the ocean floor, and this completely landlocked the lagoon in which the schooner rode at anchor. The lagoon had welcomed the ship as though with extended arms. Now those arms were closed and the hands were interlocked.
The captain groaned at the magnitude of the disaster.
"Oh, Daddy, dear!" cried Ruth, darting to his side. "Don't take it so hard! There'll be some way out!"
"Never!" cried the captain. "The Bertha Hamilton is done for. There's no way to get her out. She'll lie there now until she rots."
"And we're prisoners on this island," gasped Drew.