THERE was not much time for reflections; work, and pressing work too, had to be done. Under the bos'n's orders a party of men set about repairing the damaged gig and the broken rail, while on examination it was found that the broken mizzen-mast was practically unstrained beyond the actual fracture, so that, by cutting through and restepping the longest portion, a serviceable though somewhat stumpy mast would do duty until we could obtain a new spar at the nearest port. Three men under the orders of the quartermaster went off in the whaler to take soundings in the vicinity of the yacht's berth in order to become acquainted with the position of any fresh shoals or reefs; while the divers prepared to descend to try and recover the lost anchor and cable.

"I've just seen poor old Barnes," said Dr. Conolly, as he came on deck and joined us. "He's had a nasty time during the storm, and what I was afraid of has come about. He shows symptoms of blood-poisoning, and I must operate at once."

"Poor fellow! Poor fellow!" ejaculated my father. "I suppose he'll pull through?"

"He has a fighting chance, but you can rely upon me to do my very best. We must perform the operation on deck; so will you give orders for the awning to be rigged, and a screen placed athwart ship. We have plenty of fresh water, I think?"

"Yes, plenty. I'll have the awning rigged at once."

This news startled me, for when last I saw the wounded man he seemed on the fair road to recovery. But no time was to be lost. The awning was rigged, a rough table placed on the fo'c'sle, and a bucket of water, an array of surgical instruments (which the doctor had bought during our stay at Malta), and boxes of surgical dressing and linen completed the hasty preparations.

The divers were told to divest themselves of their diving-suits, and, after selecting three men to assist the doctor, my father ordered the rest away in the whaler, giving them instructions to sound carefully between the ledge of rocks and the shore, though this was merely an excuse to clear the ship during the actual operation.

Presently Barnes was brought on deck on a rough stretcher, the task of getting him through the fore-hatch proving one of great difficulty to the bearers and painful to the patient. They laid him on the table, and a nauseating smell that reminded me forcibly of old Dr. Trenoweth's surgery at Fowey seemed to fill the air.

"Clear out of this, Reggie!" said my Uncle Herbert peremptorily. "Go below and read a book, or do something. This is no place for you."

I went, but my thoughts were full of the poor sufferer lying on deck. Even the saloon reeked of the sickening odour, while through the open skylight I could hear every sound: the short, quick orders of the doctor, the splashing of the water, the convulsive movements of the insensible patient, the clatter of the instruments and even the sharp, rasping noise of the saw, and finally the distressing groans of the man as he recovered consciousness.

Then I heard the signal for the whaler, and presently the sound of the oars splashing alongside.

"Come along, my boy," exclaimed my father; "we are going off to the wreck." Gladly I left the cabin and got into the boat. Barnes still remained on deck, a bed being prepared for him under a square of canvas formed into a small tent. Dr. Conolly remained with his patient, but my father and uncle went in the whaler.

"There's a place where we can land, just on the other side of the wreck," said the bos'n; "but it's an awkward job."

This indeed it seemed, for the side of the newly made island was as steep and as smooth as polished rock, save for a few crevices and longitudinal cracks, so far apart as to be useless for climbing. A few strokes, however, brought us to the spot indicated by the bos'n, where the shattered bows of the "San Philipo" almost overhung the cliff. Here a flight of natural steps led up to within fifteen feet of the summit, but the whole of that fifteen feet was as smooth as a sheet of glass.

"Another fifty feet and the old hooker would have tumbled over the edge," observed the bos'n. "The whole place is one mass of ups and downs. Do you know, sir, that between the 'Fortuna' and the little reef astern of her—the new one, I mean—we found the bottom at a hundred fathoms, and between the reef and the shore, where there used to be from four to six fathoms, we found as much as sixty?"

"It's been a most tremendous upheaval," replied my father; "and I'm not surprised at anything after this. However, the question is: How are we to land?

"That's what I was thinking of, sir," replied Wilkins, knitting his brow. "How would bending the whaler's anchor on to a line and heaving it up do?"

"I am afraid that throwing up a twenty-four-pound anchor to a height of over twenty feet would be beyond the strength of most of us," observed my uncle, with a smile.

"Then heave the line over the wreck."

"The lead-line would not be strong enough to bear a man," objected my father. "The only thing to be done is to get a spar—the yard of our square-sail, for instance."

"A couple of young trees would do better, I'm thinking," said the bos'n. "We've plenty of lashing in the boat, and a ladder could be knocked up in a jiffey."

"The very thing, Mr. Wilkins. Make for the shore as fast as you can."

The whaler's bow grounded on the beach, and, making our way with difficulty through the debris that lined the seaward side of the grove, we selected a couple of young palm-trees. These were felled and cut to lengths of twenty feet, and the rungs firmly fastened, making a serviceable ladder. This we towed behind the boat, and on landing on the rock we scaled the perpendicular height with comparative ease.

The ladder was then hauled up and placed against the towering, weed-covered sides of the "San Philipo," and, led by my father, we all ascended and gained the deck of the wreck.

"Be careful, sir," cautioned the bos'n; "the deck may be rotten in places."

"All right, Mr. Wilkins," replied my father. "I see the divers have been hard at work, for the waist has practically been cleared."

But before attempting to go below, my father made his way aft, and, clambering cautiously over the successive breaks of the tiers of decks, reached the towering poop. Here the stump of the mizzen-mast still projected a couple of feet above the deck, while a litter of rotten rope trailed across the poop from the mizzen chains, and a rusty mass of iron alone remained to denote what had at one time been the three poop lanterns.

It was not, however, to this scene of desolation that my father's attention was directed. From the commanding position we had, for the first time, a complete view of the results of the upheaval, and to our consternation we found that the lagoon was converted into a land-locked sheet of water, huge rocks forming a massive semi-circular barrier from shore to shore. The "Fortuna" was a prisoner, and, to all intents and purposes, seemed doomed to lie within the lagoon till she rotted and sank at her moorings.

The original entrance had, as I have already mentioned, been closed up by lofty masses of rock, while throughout the whole length of the newly formed reef there was not, as far as we could see, any part less than twenty feet above the level of high water.

For several minutes my father stood looking at the scene with absolute dejection written on his face. It seemed as if all his hopes were shattered at one blow.

"Cheer up, old fellow," said his brother sympathetically, though he, too, was keenly alive to the extent of our misfortune. "It might be worse; we've got the yacht intact, the treasure under our feet, and, what is more, our lives have been miraculously preserved."

"Our lives, 'tis true. But what is the use of the treasure when the yacht is hopelessly imprisoned?"

"There's a saying, 'Don't holler till you're out of the wood'; it could have very well been added: 'Don't cry till you've tried to find a way out'; so don't worry till we've made a careful exploration of the reef. I suppose people at home have read a report in the daily papers before now, a telegram from Professor Milne to the effect that a great seismic disturbance has been recorded, the probable area affected being approximately eleven thousand miles away."

"Oh, yes," replied my father, with a slight suspicion of sarcasm. "............