A Good Night's Work The _Cormorant_ sea-plane flew for the best part of an hour, covering practically every square yard of the lagoon, and it was not until the sandy bottom began to grow dim in the increasingly-slanting rays of the sun that Claverhouse and Trevear came down. "Not a sign, sir," replied Trevear. "We could see the wreck of the frigate plainly enough. There are a couple of foul patches, one a little to the south-west of the entrance to the lagoon, and another off the south-eastern point of the island. The _Fusi Yama_ might be lying on the weeds on one of them." "I don't think so," replied Harborough. "In his yarn Williams mentioned that the German cruiser towed her prize into the lagoon and ported helm when she got inside. So I take it that the object of our search lies northward of a line drawn between the entrance and our shore-station." "We'll tackle it again to-morrow morning," said Claverhouse. "A little after eleven o'clock is the best time." "Very good," agreed Harborough. "We'll rig awnings on the boats, and that will give us a chance during the heat of the day." Dick Beverley was tremendously excited over the news of the discovery of the frigate. It appealed to him almost as much as if the _Fusi Yama_ had been located. "Think my ankle will be well enough for me to go afloat, Bob?" he asked that evening, just as Bobby was "turning in". "That's for you to say," replied his brother. "It's your ankle, not mine." "I felt fit to get about yesterday," declared Dick, "only the skipper wouldn't let me get out of my bunk. Do you think Swaine will let me have a diving-dress and go down? It must be frightfully exciting." "You'd better ask him," replied Bobby diplomatically. "What was she like?" asked Dick. "The frigate, I mean." "Smothered in seaweed, and as rotten as a ripe pear." "And yet Trevear saw her lying on the mud and weed," said Dick thoughtfully. "I suppose the two vessels weren't lying close together?" "By Jove, Dick!" exclaimed his brother. "That looks like business. Well, good-night. I'll speak to Harborough to-morrow, and see if he'll let you go in one of the boats." Bobby altered his plans. Instead of "turning in"--he had been sleeping on board the _Titania_ since his brother's accident--he went on deck and dropped into the skiff dinghy, which was lying at the lower boom. Then, taking to the oars, he rowed silently towards the shore. It was a calm, moonless night. Overhead the stars blazed like points of fire, their reflections scintillating on the smooth surface of the lagoon. He landed on the coral beach, dug the fluke of the boat's anchor firmly into the ground, and made his way toward the encampment. A hurricane-lamp was still burning in the tent shared by Claverhouse, Trevear, and Swaine. "Hallo!" exclaimed the former in some surprise. "What brings you ashore this time o' night?" "Shop, old bird," replied Bobby.