But nothing of a hostile nature occurred, and at length, after a tedious two hours' march, we emerged from the wood and reached the beach; and it is doubtful whether Xenophon's Ten Thousand hailed the sight of the sea with greater delight than we did. For there lay the "Fortuna," riding easily to her anchor. In obedience to a signal the two men who had been left on board manned the whaler and pulled for the beach, and ten minutes later the boat, heavily laden, was making its way back to the yacht. Worn out with the effects of our terrible experience, we spent the rest of the day in idleness. For my part, after a good lunch, I turned in and slept till next morning, although once or twice I woke up in a bath of perspiration, the outcome of that horrible night. Half an hour later we were over the scene of operations, and the divers immediately descended. It was a slow, tedious task, the clearing away of the weed and silt over the deck of the wreck, but before we could use a blasting charge it was necessary to thoroughly explore the hull, in order to make sure that the wreck was not too rotten to withstand the explosion. Two hours elapsed, and the divers ascended, reporting good progress, but a lot of work lay before them, the tendrils of seaweed proving stubborn guardians of the hidden treasure; still, already they had made a passage to within a few feet of where the main hatch should be. After the midday meal down went the divers again for another two hours, and to me, sitting in the whaler, the monotony was most trying. Seeking for rich cargoes is all very well when one is taking an active part in the search, but when it comes to sitting in an open boat all day, literally with arms folded, and not knowing what is taking place beneath you, the enforced idleness soon palls even on the most sanguine spirits. Next day came the same round of comparative idleness, save for the divers, who laboured incessantly, and the men at the pumps. Another trying day came, and then, just before sunset, we were startled by hearing a terrific shouting on the beach. Bringing glasses to bear on the spot, we found that the natives had rejected their idol, which was indeed the figurehead of the "San Philipo," and had dragged it down to the sea shore, believing it to belong to the white men. However that may be, there it lay in the sand. The pater there and then determined that he would carry it home with him. As with the treasure of the sunken ship, he felt he had a certain proprietary right in the "San Philipo" and all belonging to her. Chapter XVI TOUCH AND GO "I DON'T like the look of it," remarked my father, lightly tapping the barometer with his little finger. "A rapid rise, then up and down like a see-saw, followed by a still more rapid fall."