e squall held at its high pitch, and under her small canvas the
_Willi-Waw_ still foamed along. Again the two men stood for'ard and
vainly watched in the horizontal drive of rain.

"We're all right," Griffiths said. "This rain won't last. We can hold
this course till we pick up the lights. Anchor in thirteen fathoms.
You'd better overhaul forty-five on a night like this. After that get
the gaskets on the mainsail. We won't need it."

Half an hour afterward his weary eyes were rewarded by a glimpse of two
lights.

"There they are, Jacobsen. I'll take the wheel. Run down the
fore-staysail and stand by to let go. Make the niggers jump."

Aft, the spokes of the wheel in his hands, Griffiths held the course
till the two lights came in line, when he abruptly altered and headed
directly in for them. He heard the tumble and roar of the surf, but
decided it was farther away--as it should be, at Gabera.

He heard the frightened cry of the mate, and was grinding the wheel down
with all his might, when the _Willi-Waw_ struck. At the same instant
her mainmast crashed over the bow. Five wild minutes followed. All hands
held on while the hull upheaved and smashed down on the brittle
coral and the warm seas swept over them. Grinding and crunching, the
_Willi-Waw_ worked itself clear over the shoal patch and came solidly to
rest in the comparatively smooth and shallow channel beyond.

Griffiths sat down on the edge of the cabin, head bowed on chest, in
silent wrath and bitterness. Once he lifted his face to glare at the two
white lights, one above the other and perfectly in line.

"There they are," he said. "And this isn't Gabera. Then what the hell is
it?"

Though the surf still roared and across the shoal flung its spray
and upper wash over them, the wind died down and the stars came out.
Shoreward came the sound of oars.

"What have you had?--an earthquake?" Griffiths called out. "The bottom's
all changed. I've anchored here a hundred times in thirteen fathoms. Is
that you, Wilson?"

A whaleboat came alongside, and a man climbed over the rail. In the
faint light Griffiths found an automatic Colt's thrust into his face,
and, looking up, saw David Grief.

"No, you never anchored here before," Grief laughed. "Gabera's just
around the point, where I'll be as soon as I've collected that little
sum of twelve hundred pounds. We won't bother for the receipt. I've your
note here, and I'll just return it."

"You did this!" Griff