His surmise was correct. The Titania was three miles off the N.E. extremity of the island, when the lofty peaks were lighted up with the blush of a new-born day. The Zug, marking time off the entrance to the lagoon, promptly took the narrow channel through the reef, rolling heavily as she passed the jagged fringe of surf-swept coral. Then, with a rush and a roar, her cable tore through the hawse-pipe and she came to a standstill, head to wind, off the Island of Ni Telang. Harborough smiled grimly.
"You've hit the wrong island this time, old son," he exclaimed contentedly. "But it was a narrow squeak for us."
CHAPTER XVII
Nua Leha
Twenty minutes later, conned by Swaine from the fore cross-trees, the Titania followed her duped rival into the lagoon. It was as yet too early to pretend to abandon the enterprise. The deception had to be maintained until von Giespert was fully convinced that he was on the right track.
A cast of the lead gave fifteen fathoms.
"Let go!" ordered Harborough. "Fifteen fathoms will give those fellows plenty to do to search for an imaginary wreck. Give her fifty fathoms of cable, Mr. Villiers; then we'll pipe all hands to breakfast."
Meals on board the Titania were always plenteous repasts, for Harborough realized that a well-fed crew meant efficiency and capacity for work; but upon this occasion the breakfast was a sumptuous one. There was no hurry; the primary object of the night's vigil had been accomplished, and the Zug had been enticed a full fifty miles away from the golden cargo of the sunken Fusi Yama. So all hands breakfasted in style, after which the watch below turned in and the duty watch began the customary routine.
Harborough was enjoying a cigar in the after-cabin when he heard a hail from on deck, "Boat ahoy!"