“Not a very lively place,” commented the captain. “Still, it will do all right if we have to land the cargo.”
The anchor was dropped and then all there was to do was to wait for the fire to be extinguished.
The boys remained on deck, looking at the scenery about them. Back of the bay, rising almost from the edge of the water, were a series of steep cliffs, of bare rock for the most part, but studded, here and there, with clumps of bushes and small trees, that somehow, found a lodgement for their roots on little ledges.
“It’s a lonesome sort of place,” remarked Fenn. “Not a soul within sight.”
Hardly had he spoken than there was seen on the face of the cliff, as if by a trick, the figure of a man. He seemed to come out, as does a magic-lantern picture on a sheet, so quickly did he appear where, before, there had been nothing but bare brown rock.
“Look!” exclaimed Fenn, pointing.
“A Chinaman!” exclaimed Bart. “One of the smugglers!”
The boys jumped to their feet, and approached closer to the ship’s rail, to get a better view.
As they did so the Chinese vanished as though the cliff wall had opened and swallowed him up.