he bridge and
fastened a strap round his waist.

"We're on the Santa Marta shelf, but I'm four miles off the course I
set," Mayne remarked. "I want to work out the angle from the first
bearing I got."

Kit went with him into the chart-room, for he knew something about
navigation. They had taught him the principles of land-surveying at the
agricultural college, and this had made his studies easier. When he
came back the moon was getting bright, but the haze had thickened on
the low ground and the heights behind had faded to a vague, formless
blur. The trail of smoke had vanished, there was no wind, and the
smooth swell broke against the bows with a monotonous dull roar as the
_Rio Negro_ went on. She was alone on the heaving water and steaming
slowly, but the noise of her progress carried far. By and by a light
twinkled ahead, leaped up into a steady glow that lasted for some
minutes, and then went out.

"That's a relief," remarked Adam, who had struck a match and studied his
watch. "The ground's clear and Don Hernando has somebody he can trust
waiting at the lagoon. You can let her go ahead, Captain."

Mayne rang his telegraph and Kit went into the pilot house. The dim light
of the binnacle lamp touched the compass, but everything else was dark
and the windows were down. Kit could see the quartermaster's dark form
behind the wheel, and the silver shining of the sea. There was a splash
as the man on the platform released the whirling hand-lead. When he
called the depth Mayne gave an order and the quartermaster pulled round
the wheel. The swell was not so smooth now. It ran in steep undulations
and in one place to starboard a broad, foaming patch appeared between the
rollers. Kit knew the water was shoaling fast as the _Rio Negro_ steamed
across the inclined shelf. It was risky work to take her in, because the
fire had vanished and there were no marks to steer for. Mayne must trust
his compass and his rough calculations.

"Tide's running flood," he said to Adam. "She'd have steered handier if
we'd gone in against the ebb; but there's a better chance of coming off
if she touches ground."

"You don't want to touch ground and stop there with the B.F. goods on
board," Adam replied.

After this, there was silence except when Mayne gave an order. White
upheavals broke the passing swell on both sides of the ship. She rolled
with violent jerks and at regular intervals the bows swung up. When they
sank, a dark mass with a