The sun by this time was high overhead. Bored by inactivity, the Scouts returned to their hotel for lunch.
Throughout the afternoon, they waited for Mr. Livingston. Twice he sent word that he had been delayed longer than expected.
“The expedition’s run into a snag,” Willie remarked in discouragement. “We may never get out of this hole!”
By dinner time, the Explorers were thoroughly disturbed by Mr. Livingston’s long absence. A note assured them that he would be at the hotel without fail by nine o’clock.
“I’ve run into unexpected difficulties,” he wrote. “Hope to have everything ironed out so we can leave Cuertos within forty-eight hours.”
After eating, the Scouts strolled to the market, and then to the water front. In the fast gathering shadows, they could dimly make out the Shark riding at anchor.
“Let’s go aboard,” Willie suddenly proposed.
“How’ll we get there?” Ken asked. “Swim? No, thanks! I’m not offering myself as shark bait.”
Willie, however, had sighted a fisherman whose motorboat was tied up nearby. “Let’s make a deal with him to take us out there,” he suggested.
“Captain Carter may not like it,” Jack reminded him. “He wouldn’t let us go aboard once before.”