During the night the sea went down a great deal, and in the morning the harbor could be plainly distinguished. A boat was lowered, and Captain Marshall went ashore, taking Dave and Phil with him.
It was an easy matter to beach the rowboat on the sands, and the boys leaped ashore quickly and ran up to the nearest of the palm trees. A look around showed all how the gigantic tidal wave had torn and twisted everything growing near the water's edge. In some spots the sand lay a foot thick on beds of grass and moss and small brushwood.
"We can be thankful that our ship was not cast up high and dry on the shore," remarked Captain Marshall, as he gazed around. "That wave must have done the shipping for hundreds of miles around great damage."
The party walked up and down the beach for almost a mile, but without seeing the first sign of inhabitants of any sort. The shore was full of dead fish and overturned turtles, and the sailors took some back to the ship with them for eating purposes.
It was nearly midday when they returned to the ship, and the boys were so hungry that a mess of fried fish was particularly appetizing to them. At noon the captain made some observations and got out his charts, and finally announced that they must be at a small island, one hundred and sixty miles to the southward of Sobago.
"The island is not of great importance," said he. "It is shaped a good deal like the letter B, and this harbor is formed by the double curve on one side. The interior of each of the two portions is mostly marsh land—a good place for tropical fevers. The reef outside of the harbor is well defined on the chart, and extends in a semicircle for many miles."
"Isn't there any opening at all?" queried Dave.
"For small vessels, yes."
"But not for a bark the size of ours?"
"That remains to be found out. I shall go this afternoon and make some soundings."