Aided by the frequent flashes of lightning and the now dying glare of the kerosene, the rest of the late occupants of the store-house extricated themselves and each other from their awkward and dangerous predicament, and in the blinding rain they made for the shelter of the palm groves, never halting till they had placed a full hundred yards between them and the outpost of trees that held out against the hurricane. Even now the position of the shore-party was far from enviable. Every man was soaked to the skin; most bore cuts or bruises, while Bell and Merridew were both badly knocked about by one of the packing-cases as the barricade gave way before the blast. "Think the _Titania_ stood it?" asked Merridew. There was no reply. Every man had his doubts. Bobby was regretting the fact that he had refused to let Dick come ashore the previous afternoon. For another hour the men sheltered in the palm grove. Here it was comparatively calm, although the trunks were trembling with the effect of the gale upon their verdant tops. To attempt to leave their place of refuge and go down to the beach meant striving to attain the impossible. No one could face the full force of the blast in the open. At half-past two in the morning the wind died away as suddenly as it had started; the stars shone in an unclouded sky, and only the debris scattered in the glades and the unusually loud roar of the surf remained. "It's all over," declared Beverley. "Let's make for the beach." They arrived to find that the breakers were already being subdued by the reef, on which the mountainous rollers were hurling themselves in sullen fury. Pitching heavily as she rode with open hawse to the waves was the _Titania_, standing out clearly against the starlit sky. "I don't think she's dragged a yard," declared Bobby. "Jolly lucky----" "What's that?" interrupted Griffiths, pointing to something rolling in the undertow of the surface at a distance of a hundred yards from the beach. The men rushed to the spot to find that the _Titania's_ cutter had been torn from the davits and had been dashed ashore. Watching his opportunity, Claverhouse waded waist-deep into the water and secured the painter. All hands succeeded in hauling the boat beyond the rush of the waves, but the mischief was already done. Her keel, kelson, and garboards smashed, the boat was beyond repair. "I'm off to have a look at the sea-planes," decided Alec. "Nothing like keeping on the move when you're soaked to the buff. Come along, Trevear, old son." The airmen departed. The others, unable to communicate with the ship, thought that activity was the best antidote to saturated clothing, and proceeded to set things in order.