"No, I don't," replied his chum bluntly.
"We must hang on till daybreak, then," said Armstrong. "At dead-low water there may be a trifle less swell."
"Yes," assented Denbigh. "We'll land on the lee side of the reef. Gently with her; we don't want to be stove in against a sharp branch of coral."
Without accident the landing was accomplished. The adventurers found themselves on a broad part of the reef that was barely three feet above the surface. Seaweed and driftwood had already accumulated, showing that the coral was now only occasionally invaded by the sea. Fifty yards away the surf broke heavily, but fortunately they were out of range of the falling spray.
Almost in silence the three chums sat until the sun rose in a grey sky above the horizon. Overhead a few large birds flew seaward—both circumstances presaging a fine day.
The tide had now fallen, and, although there were several feet of water in the channel, a detached reef about a hundred yards from the main coral ledge, which had uncovered as the tide fell, completely broke the breakers for some distance on either side of its seaward end.
"All aboard!" ordered Denbigh. "With luck we'll fetch Latham Island well before sunset."
Broad on the port bow rose Ras Kimbiji, which Denbigh recognized by a peculiarly-rounded and isolated hill rising two miles beyond the point.
From this cape, he knew, Latham Island bore 23 miles due east.
"Step the mast, Pat!" he exclaimed. "The breeze is well in our favour. One thing, we are not over-canvassed."