“Should I be able to obtain a good, uninterrupted view of the harbour from the point you name?” I demanded.
“First-rate, sir; couldn’t be better,” answered Hoard. “The harbour ’ud be spread out like a map below ye, and you’d see from one end to t’other of it; ay, and you’d see the galleon herself, lying in the small inner harbour.”
“Then I’ll risk it,” exclaimed I decisively. “There is a new moon coming on in about a week’s time, so that the nights will be dark, and therefore favourable to our adventure. Thank you, Hoard; that is all I want with you now. I will have another chat with you when we reach the coast.”
Chapter Twenty Three.
I plan a most daring and hazardous enterprise.
Our run across to the Main was uneventful, and on the sixth morning out from Port Royal we made Point Gallinas, arriving off Cartagena some twenty hours afterwards.
By great good luck the weather happened to be favourable for our immediate embarkation upon our adventure, so after a further and final chat with Hoard, the schooner was headed in for the land. The night was dark as pitch, the sky being overcast, and there was a gentle breeze blowing off the land, affording us smooth water for the delicate operation of landing. But there was no time to be lost, it wanting only four hours to daylight, by which time it would be necessary that the schooner should have secured a good offing; so, having under Hoard’s pilotage stood in until the lead gave us twenty-one fathoms—at which point Hoard informed us that we might consider ourselves half a mile from the land—the gig was lowered, and, with her crew armed to the teeth, we shoved off, the second mate being in charge, with Hoard and myself sitting on either side of him in the stern-sheets, the former still acting as pilot. We paddled gently in, with muffled oars, and in the course of about ten minutes the boat gently grounded on a narrow strip of smooth, sandy beach at the base of a low, rugged cliff in a shallow bay. Here Hoard and I landed, the second mate receiving instructions to be at the same spot with the boat and a small supply of cooked provisions every night at midnight, and to remain a couple of hours, when, if he saw nothing of either of us, he was to return to the schooner until the next night.
We stood on the beach until the boat had shoved off again and was lost in the darkness, when we turned away, and, Hoard leading, proceeded to climb the face of the cliff, which was by no means a difficult matter, as the ground, although somewhat precipitous, was grass-grown and thickly dotted with low, sturdy bushes. Five minutes sufficed us to reach the top, when we found ourselves facing a hillside, rising on our right to a very respectable height. This, however, was not the hill to which Hoard had alluded in his conversation with me. To reach the latter we should have to walk about a mile, he informed me; so, having paused for a minute or two to get our breath after our unwonted exertions, we struck inland, passing over the spur of the hill on our right and dipping down into a shallow valley, along which we passed, steering a southerly course for a pair of steep, lofty hills, the summits of which were within half a mile of each other. The more southerly of these two was the one for which I was bound, and an hour’s steady climbing carried us to the top of it, when we lay down in the long grass among the bushes, and, regardless of insects and possible reptiles, snatched a catnap while we waited for daylight.