[Illustration: THE GERMANS WERE DUMFOUNDED]
The Titania moored in nine fathoms, with her main anchor laid out in the direction of the reef, at about two hundred and fifty yards from the sandy shore of a small bay. At its northern extremity the bold headland of the bay almost touched the reef, there being a passage of about fifty yards leading to the next section of the lagoon.
"A south-easter is the only wind likely to trouble us," observed Villiers. "The reef will keep a lot of the sea down, but it's so low that there's bound to be a fairly-heavy tumble."
"What sort of bottom have we?" asked Harborough.
"Mud and pieces of coral rock," replied Villiers. "If the wreck's anywhere about we'll find the water pretty muddy. But it's good holding ground. The sandy part of the lagoon is clear enough, but I wouldn't care to trust the fluke of an anchor in it."
"Let's hope the wreck is on a sandy bottom," rejoined Harborough. "However, that remains to be proved. We'll breach that case of champagne now, lads; after that it's general leave ashore. There'll be time for a stretch before sunset."
This programme was duly carried out. The boats were lowered and armed merely on the principle that it was wise to take precautions—and with the exception of Merridew, who volunteered as ship-keeper, all hands landed on the sandy beach.
"Look at that young brother of yours!" remarked Trevear, drawing Bobby's attention to Dick's rolling gait. "The champagne's got into his upper story."
"He didn't have any," declared Bobby; then, overtaking his erratically-moving relative, he asked:
"What's the matter, Dick?"