The first cast of the lead gave fifteen and a half fathoms. Working shorewards, they found, contrary to their expectations, that the lagoon grew deeper, the soundings increasing to seventeen. Then, without warning, the depth decreased to eight.
"Lower a small grapnel," suggested Swaine. "Bend a stout line to it, and we may drag up something."
This they did, and very soon the barbed point of the grapnel engaged.
"Something pretty tough," declared Bobby, as the transom of the dinghy was drawn almost level with the water under the efforts of her crew of four, "We've lost that grapnel."
"In a good cause," added Claverhouse.
"We'll get the cutter to bear a hand at hauling it up," continued Bobby.
For some minutes it seemed as if the united strength of eleven strong men was of no avail. The cutter, in spite of her relatively greater buoyancy, was well down aft under the terrific strain.
"Belay and go for'ard," ordered Beverley.
The eleven men were crowded uncomfortably in the fore part of the cutter when suddenly the strain on the grapnel relaxed. The boats' bows dipped. Volumes of water poured in over her bows and under she went, leaving her crew struggling to clear each other.
Almost before the men in the dinghy could grasp the situation properly, there was a terrific swirl in the water and a large greenish-white object shot up to the surface.