“As safe as on any other desert island,” Ben had answered.
It seemed impossible that anything could happen in that lonely, quiet place, which was like a deserted paradise to the girls and boys that beautiful afternoon. There was nothing about the locality or the weather to arouse uncomfortable suspicions. The patch of sky, which was revealed to them just overhead between the tall, straight pine trees, was like a beautiful deep blue canopy. Even the watchful Ben could not have told that the cloud, so short a time ago no larger than a man’s hand, now stretched itself across the horizon in a long, thick line of black.
“The caves are the most fun of all,” said Percy, leading the way to the cliffs overlooking the ocean. “There are dozens of them, some little and some very large. The lower ones fill up at high tide, but the upper ones are safe enough.”
The cliff was honeycombed with small rocky chambers, and as they clambered, Indian file, along the narrow path which nature had so thoughtfully cut in the rocks they heard the boom of the incoming tide thundering through the caves on the beach.
“I suppose people could live in these little caverns,” Percy continued, “if it wasn’t so all-fired lonely and inconvenient; but wait until you see Smugglers’ Cave. It has as many natural conveniences as a real house built by human beings.”
“Here it is,” he cried at last, to the others who had run all the way down a steep embankment to see this romantic place.
Certainly it might well have been a favorite spot for smugglers and robbers on the high seas. Too high for the tide to reach and still well hidden from above by a thick growth of scrubby pine and oak trees, the cave was as secret and safe a place as could be imagined. Rock-hewn steps led up from the smooth pebbly beach below and the curve of the coast made a charming little haven for ships and a natural landing place for small boats. The eight friends stood in a row on the beach.
“This is called ‘Pirates’ Cove,’ you know,” went on Percy. “They say the pirates used to anchor their ships in this little haven and come ashore and have pirate tea parties on the beach.”
“Here comes a sea rover now,” called Merry, scanning the entrance to the harbor where a ship could be seen outlined against the blue.
“Oh, she isn’t coming this way, Old Tar,” answered Percy. “It’s too late in the season, for yachts and ships rarely come in here unless there is a storm. There’s nothing to come for and it takes them out of their course.”