"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." Therein he was mistaken, for the small spread of sail was more than sufficient to endanger the stability of the canoe. Since there were no reef points recourse had to be made to a "Spanish reef", which consists in gathering in a generous amount of one corner of the canvas and tying it into a knot. Even then the little craft literally bounded over the water. Before the S.W. monsoon Denbigh calculated her speed at seven or eight knots. At the end of three hours the breeze increased, and the sail had to be still further reduced. Not daring to stand upright, the sub's range of vision was considerably limited. He was beginning to think that a slight error in the compass course had taken them past the low-lying and almost invisible sandbank for which they were steering. "Breakers ahead!" shouted Armstrong. For nearly five minutes the gaze of all three men was directed upon a patch of white foam in the midst of the dark-blue waters. Then Denbigh broke the silence. "We can finish off that soda-water now," he said. "That's Latham Island." They drained the bottle. There was now no need to husband their scanty resources. Ahead lay the sandbank on which were hidden provisions in plenty. "Down rag and out paddles!" ordered Denbigh. The sail was quickly stowed and the mast unshipped. Under paddles the canoe was urged towards the lee side of the island, where a landing was easily effected. Dragging the canoe above high-water mark the three chums, wellnigh "baked" by the heat, sat down upon the hard ground. Shelter there was none. The whole of the white surface simmered in the rays, both direct and reflected, of the tropical sun. "Honestly I don't feel like work," remarked O'Hara. "It's too beastly hot. Besides, we've anticipated our time-table considerably. The sun's not crossed the meridian yet." "It's a toss-up whether we set to at once or wait. In any case we stew," said Armstrong. "I vote we dig for an hour and knock off for the early afternoon." "Yes," assented Denbigh. "That will, I think, be the better way. So bestir yourself, Pat." "Where's the spot?" asked the mate. "Almost at the other end of the island," replied Denbigh. "I can recognize it from the position of that jagged reef. Bring the paddles, they'll make excellent sand scoops." Across the glistening sand they made their way until the three men came simultaneously to a dead stop. Other diggers had preceded them, for where the whaler and the stores had been hidden was a large, partly-silted-up cavity.