Eleven men put off from the beach, four in the skiff-dinghy, the rest in the cutter. Expectations ran high, and everyone was in good spirits. "Not so much noise there," cautioned Beverley, "or you'll wake the Old Man." "We'll wake him right enough, if we find the ship," rejoined Swaine. "Port helm a bit, Bobby; I can see the mark-buoys." The first cast of the lead gave fifteen and a half fathoms. Working shorewards, they found, contrary to their expectations, that the lagoon grew deeper, the soundings increasing to seventeen. Then, without warning, the depth decreased to eight. "Lower a small grapnel," suggested Swaine. "Bend a stout line to it, and we may drag up something." This they did, and very soon the barbed point of the grapnel engaged. "Something pretty tough," declared Bobby, as the transom of the dinghy was drawn almost level with the water under the efforts of her crew of four, "We've lost that grapnel." "In a good cause," added Claverhouse. "We'll get the cutter to bear a hand at hauling it up," continued Bobby. For some minutes it seemed as if the united strength of eleven strong men was of no avail. The cutter, in spite of her relatively greater buoyancy, was well down aft under the terrific strain. "Belay and go for'ard," ordered Beverley. The eleven men were crowded uncomfortably in the fore part of the cutter when suddenly the strain on the grapnel relaxed. The boats' bows dipped. Volumes of water poured in over her bows and under she went, leaving her crew struggling to clear each other. Almost before the men in the dinghy could grasp the situation properly, there was a terrific swirl in the water and a large greenish-white object shot up to the surface. It was a ship's boat, green with weed. Its copper air-tanks still retained their buoyancy, and the additional strain imparted by the grapnel had wrenched the boat from the lashings that secured it to the chocks. Fortunately, in its violent ascent to the surface the boat missed the evicted crew of the cutter. The water was warm and there were no sharks about, or if there were the unusual splashing had scared them off. The cutter, being provided with air-compartments, floated with her gunwale a couple of inches above the surface, so that with the aid of a brace of buckets and a baler the water was soon thrown out and the men regained their craft. This done the dinghy and the cutter started in pursuit of the unknown boat, which, in the grip of the current, was drifting towards the entrance to the lagoon. Holding on to the "horse" of the recovered boat, Beverley scraped the slimy deposit of weed from a portion of the transom. Underneath, in faded letters that were still legible, was painted the name _Fusi Yama_. "Good enough!" declared Bobby triumphantly. "Let her go. I don't think she'll drift out of the lagoon. If she does, it is of little consequence. Now, you blighters, pull for the _Titania_."