"We're wasting time," continued Harborough. "Claverhouse may be drifting farther and farther away every moment. We'll weigh and run a hundred miles to leeward, if necessary. I won't throw away a single chance of getting him back."
He went on deck and gave orders for the cable to be hove in. Under the action of the powerful capstan twenty fathoms came on board easily and rapidly; then came a decided check.
"Foul bottom," declared Villiers, as he leant over the cathead and peered into the clear water. "The fluke's caught in a rock, I'm afraid. We'll try tripping the hook."
Accordingly, the nun-buoy was fished on board, and the slack of the stout hempen rope that led between it and the crown of the anchor was hauled in until the yacht's bows were right over the anchor.
Every available man tailed on to the rope, but even with the aid of a tackle the anchor stubbornly refused to leave the bed of the lagoon.
"And we haven't a diving-dress on board," lamented Swaine.
"I'm not going to borrow one from the Zug, in any case," said Harborough resolutely. "Avast heaving and slack away. I'll get power on the ship and see what that will do. Something's bound to go."
Something did. With both engines running at full speed, the yacht forged ahead until the cable snubbed and her bows dipped a good two feet below the water-line. Then with a heavy lurch the Titania held on, the fluke of her anchor grinding on the coral bottom.
Getting way off the ship Harborough ordered the cable to be hove-in. This time the links came in steadily but slowly. There was more than the weight of the anchor at the end of the massive chain.
Suddenly Villiers gave a shout of astonishment.