CHAPTER SIXTEEN.
"BROKEN UP!" Early next morning, after their usual matutinal swim, Bob and Dick accompanied the Captain for a stroll along the beach to the coastguard- station on the eastern side of the Castle, near to which the ill-fated _Bembridge Belle_ had been run ashore.
Of course, Rover formed one of the party; carrying, equally as a matter of course, his young master's towels in his mouth and wagging his fine bushy tail with even more energy than he generally evinced when performing that function, in order to express his proud exultation at the trust reposed in him.
At the coastguard-station they found Hellyer standing by the flagstaff, with his telescope under his left arm and evidently on duty.
"Not much damage done to her hull yet, sir," said he, touching his hat, as he thus anticipated the Captain's inquiry.

"She were all awash, though, sir, at high-water this morning!" "Indeed!" cried Captain Dresser.

"Then, that forward bulkhead must have started when the fore compartment got full." "No doubt o' that, sir," agreed Hellyer.

"Why, the tide covered her after-deck at Six Bells; and the cushions of the settees and a lot o' dunnage were floating about in the saloon below and washing through the ports astern." "Her fo'c's'le, however, keeps high and dry." "Aye, now it do, sir," replied Hellyer.

"But, not for long!" "You're right, my man," said the Captain, after having a good squint at the object of their commiseration.