“Yes,” said Fitz; “I was thinking about that. There is only one left, now, over yonder, with the sun glowing on it still.”
“That’s not the sun,” said Poole quietly.
“Yes, it is. I mean there, that soft dull red. Look before it dies out.”
“That’s the one I was looking at, and it won’t die out; if you like to watch you will see it looking dull and red like that all night.”
“Oh, I see,” cried Fitz mockingly; “you mean that the sun goes down only a little way there, and then comes up again in the same place.”
“No, I don’t,” said Poole quietly. “What you see is the glow from the volcano a few miles back behind the town.”
“What!” cried Fitz. “Then we are as close to the port as that?”
“Yes. We are not above a dozen miles away. It’s too dark to see now, or you could make out the mountains that surround the bay.”
“Then why couldn’t we see them before the sun was set?” cried Fitz sceptically.
“Because they were all hidden by the clouds and golden haze that gather round of an evening. Yes, yonder’s San Cristobal, and as soon as it is a little darker if you use the glass you will be able to make out which are the twinkling electric lights and which are stars.”