When they had finished, Phil's watch--the only one of six which had neither run down for lack of winding or been incapacitated by immersion in salt water--gave the hour as twenty minutes past seven. Comforted by food and drink, they warmed themselves at the fire and waited for the tide to recede far enough to allow a survey of the _Adventurer_. The comfort was too much for Perry and he fell asleep with his feet almost in the embers and his head on a rock and slumbered emphatically. At last the line of breakers was well astern of the cruiser and the boys, leaving their stockings to dry by the fire and rolling their trousers up, began their investigation. On the whole the _Adventurer_ had so far come off easily. Her planks had been strained in several places, but there were no breaks. Steve, hanging over the stern, tried to get sight of the propeller but failed, as the sand had settled about it. Joe, wading out into the water, had better success when he investigated. He came up, dripping, with the welcome announcement that the blades were intact and that, so far as he could ascertain by feeling, the shaft was not bent. But things looked pretty dismal below-decks. The forward cabin was awash, as was the engine-well, and the after stateroom was knee-deep. They gathered on the bridge deck and held council. "We can plug her seams, all right," said Steve, "and by keeping a pump going get to port, _if_ we can only get her off the beach. But I can't, for the life of me, see how we're going to do that. Her bow's settled a foot deep in sand and it's piled up along this side of her. Even her propeller's buried!" "Not very much," said Joe. "If we start her she'll kick it away in a minute." "But there isn't any use starting her," said Steve thoughtfully, "unless she's afloat a good deal more than she was this morning. If only we had something to fix a line to astern we might pull her off with the windlass." His gaze ran seaward and in an instant he was on his feet gazing intently through the mist. "What's that back there?" he demanded eagerly. "Isn't it a rock, fellows?" CHAPTER XX THE DERELICT It was a rock whose brown head was thrust barely two feet above the water. "It's the ledge we grazed last night," cried Joe. "Could we get a rope to that, Steve?" "Why not? We'll have a go at it, anyway. Help me with the tender, someone!"