“But don’t think we’ve heard the last of him,” Mr. Livingston predicted. “He’ll pop up when we least expect him and make trouble! I’ll be glad when we’re well away from this village.”
Intent upon making a start on the trip inland, the Scout leader absented himself from the hotel most of the morning. He conferred for several hours with Father Francisco, obtaining maps and a great deal of useful information.
As for the Explorers, they whiled away their time at the village and the waterfront. Always, the Shark drew their eyes like a magnet. The vessel remained at anchor, rolling in the swells, but there was no evidence of activity aboard.
“Wonder what Captain Carter will do now that we’ve turned down a deal with him?” Willie speculated.
No one answered. In fact, the attention of the others had been diverted to the narrow strip of beach. The tide was very nearly at its high point, coming in strong.
Jack halted abruptly, staring at a pile of debris which had been washed up some distance away.
“Wow! Are we in a jam!” he exclaimed in dismay. “See what’s lying on the beach!”
“Where?” demanded Warwick, squinting into the bright sunlight.
Jack pointed up shore to a pile of rocks, against which giant greenish-blue waves were smashing.
“I still don’t see anything.”