“Yes, but if we can’t go ahead we’ll have to go back.”
For ten minutes the two youths searched around, and then managed to find a split between two of the rocks and beyond this a rocky slope leading still farther upward.
“We might as well try this,” said Randy. “If it doesn’t lead to anywhere we can go back.”
The rocky slope ended in something of a plateau. The boys were now at one of the highest points on the island and could see in almost all directions, the heavy jungle cutting off only a small part of the coast line in the southwest. To the north and the east, as well as the southeast, rolled the mighty Atlantic, flashing in the rays of the declining sun. To the eastward on the island were innumerable rocks, some of them fantastic in shape and forming a sort of bowl, the bottom of which was now shrouded in shadows.
“My gracious! this whole end of the island is nothing but rocks,” declared Randy.
“Look!” exclaimed Jack, pointing to the coast southward. “Unless I’m greatly mistaken there is the wreck of the Coryanda!”
“It’s the old steam yacht just as sure as you’re born!” answered his cousin.
“No wonder I didn’t see the wreck from the top of that palm tree,” went on the young major. “See how she’s wedged in between the rocks.”
“Yes, and it looks to me as if her backbone was broken, Jack. Anyway, she’s split bow and stern. No wonder the animals got loose. Smashing up on the rocks that way must have loosened everything.”
“Maybe most of the animals were killed by the shocks.”