A moment later, the strokes of the sweeps were almost under them.
"Que venga," hailed the Captain.
The oars were immediately stopped and a trembling voice answered in
Spanish:
"Fishermen, fishermen; don't shoot."
Seeing nothing more formidable than a couple of poor fishermen who were willing to brave the vigilance of the Chileans for the sake of a catch, the crew at once became very brave and bustled about as though they were willing to sail right into the entire fleet of the enemy.
In a short time the breakers were heard booming in on the rocks of Frouton and the sloop was run to a safe anchorage under the cliffs, in smooth water. Paul prepared for the trip to San Lorenzo and ordered the crew to remain by the sloop until three o'clock in the morning as that would give them ample time to reach the mainland before the Chileans could sight them. Launching the two torpedoes, he paddled across the narrow but rough channel, intending to plant the torpedoes for future use. He struck under the towering cliffs of the island and pursued his way along them looking for a safe landing place. At times he passed great openings in the cliffs, into which huge waves rolled and sounded back as though dashing against some obstruction far away in the bowels of the island, and the heavy, saline smell of seals and sea lions escaped through the openings. At length he came to a place where he could land without being flung against the rocks. He hauled the torpedoes up on a smooth beach, placed them carefully under a shelf of rock, removed the rubber dress and in his stocking feet began to climb the steep side of the island with the intention of discovering how far the Chilean outposts extended in his direction. It was a tiresome climb. Up over guano beds and broken rock, and as the wind was off shore, scarcely a breath of air came to cool the heated atmosphere and as he toiled on, the perspiration fairly streamed from his pores. When he reached the top, a cool land breeze fanned his perspiring face and with an exclamation of pleasure, he seated himself on a rock to rest and cool off. At the same moment, a dark figure started up, not thirty yards away. There was a flash of fire, a report and a bullet passed close to Paul's head. He drew his revolver with the intention of shooting at the figure which was retreating; but not knowing how many soldiers there might be around, he refrained. There was a lapse of but a few seconds, when gun after gun was heard cracking in nearly every quarter and that was proof to him that sentries were stationed all over the island. Knowing that a general alarm had been given, he began a rapid descent of the cliffs, well aware of the fatal consequences if the Chileans captured him. Every moment he expected a company of soldiers to pounce upon him, or that their torpedo boats would capture him at the foot of the cliff. Shot after shot followed him as he made for the place at which he had concealed his dress, with all the speed with which he was possessed. Being less cautious in the descent than he had been in going up, he loosened great masses of guano and rock that rolled down ahead of him. When he reached the breakers again, an avalanche of guano had covered his dress. He hurriedly searched up and down the beach until he discovered one foot of the rubber pantaloons sticking out from under the guano. He pulled it out and was soon paddling across the gut again. As he ran under the cliff where the sloop had been anchored, he could not see her; but as he rose on the waves he discovered her nearly out of sight, standing away for the mainland, with all canvas spread. The crew had heard the firing, had weighed anchor and sailed for the protection of their own guns, under the impression that their Captain had been killed; in fact, such was the report they made on their arrival at Lima.
Appreciating the fact that he would surely be discovered by the enemy if he attempted to paddle to the mainland in the dress; if not during the night, certainly in the morning, for he could not hope to reach safely before daylight revealed him. What should he do? He now knew that San Lorenzo was heavily guarded and there was no hope of shelter on Frouton. It were better to challenge the mercy of the monsters of the deep than that of his human foes, so he quickly made up his mind to return and conceal himself under the crags of San Lorenzo in one of the caverns which he had passed. He paddled back through the heavily rolling waves and got under the cliffs of the island, looking every moment to be run down by a torpedo boat; but fortunately his pursuers missed him and he felt a wave of hot air, impregnated with that saline smell which betokened the entrance to a cave. Then he could see a blacker spot than the darkness that surrounded him, which he knew was the entrance. He unhesitatingly struck for it, the mountain seeming to close over and swallow him as he entered the mysterious chamber of the sea. Cautiously he made his way back, not knowing what creatures he might encounter. Slowly and with straining eyes he advanced through the thick blackness, until he could hear the breathing and stirring of what he rightly conjectured to be seals. He sounded with his paddle and found it to be of insufficient length to show him the depth of water. Reaching a ledge of rock which had been rendered slippery by the constant sliding of slimy seals over it, he drew himself up, having to use great care not to cut the dress on the sharp edges of numberless shells which he found everywhere wedged in the interstices of the rock. When he reached a place against the back wall where he thought he could keep himself from sliding into the water, there was an ominous growl, one or two splashes below, then for a moment all was quiet again except the mournful washing of the waves far back in the mysterious depths and the heavy breathing of the sea animals about him; but what they were he was not sure, whether they would attack him or not, he could not tell, and could only trust in Providence to keep him safe. The noise of snapping, snarling and growling was kept up and through the watches of that dreadful night, he never closed an eye.
As the rays of the tropical morning sun began to penetrate the gloom, Paul looked around him. Everywhere along the sides of the cavern were ledges and shelves of rock; covering these was an army of seals and sea lions waking from their night's rest. They would raise their bodies half upright from their stony beds, stretch their flippers and yawn, much after the manner of a human being, then drop into the water and make off toward the open sea in search of their breakfast. Stretched on his ledge, in the black rubber dress, Paul was probably taken for one of their own species, for hundreds of them passed without noticing him. Some of them, however, did discover him to be a strange intruder in their lodging house. These would turn their great, round eyes on him, circle off from the ledge, then with a quick flip of their flukes dart toward the opening, gracefully cutting the water as they steered for their fishing grounds. Some returned with a fish in their mouths, shining like silver, and all day he had a chance to watch their movements.
He was greatly interested in the peculiar manner in which they climbed upon the ledges. They would raise their bodies almost out of the water, place their flippers on the edge of the rock and with a quick flirt of their flukes, project themselves to the shelf in the most graceful manner. Later in the morning, Paul noticed one enormous brute on a ledge opposite him and about fifty feet below. It appeared to be heavy and sleepy. Around it were clustered several smaller ones, seeming to be its immediate retainers or most intimate friends. The big fellow was uneasy. Several times he lifted his head, looked about with his blood shot eyes and then dropped back again as though to finish a nap. Paul expected an attack and braced himself for it. The monster finally edged slowly over and plunged into the water. He did not appear again until he had passed Boyton's ledge, then he came to the surface, gave a loud snort, either of defiance, fear or astonishment, sank again and went out to join his comrades.
Paul dare not venture out of the cave in the daylight. He sat there in his dress and dozens of baby seals crawled up on the ledge beside him, playing all over and around him, some of them sucking the fingers of his gloves with mouths like red coral. Sometimes the anxious mothers swam in and bellowed at their young; but as they grew accustomed to the stranger and saw no injury came to the little fellows, they became quiet.