At sundown, the seals began pouring in again and climbed to their respective couches, uttering the most weird cries, snarling and bellowing as though quarreling about their beds. Paul had had nothing to eat or drink all day; but owing to the dampness of the cavern, he felt no thirst. Twilights are short in that latitude and nightfall followed fast in the wake of sundown; so he quietly unlimbered himself, slipped off the rock so as not to disturb the seals and dipping his paddle gently in the phosphorescent water, slid out of the gloomy jaws of the cave into the starlit night. He made a wide sweep against the tide around Frouton and by steady, cautious pulling all night, was close under the fortifications of Callao by morning.
Not wishing to land until daylight for fear of being shot by some of the sentinels, he laid off and then came very near getting what he had waited to escape, for in the grey light of the morning, he discovered a sentinel with a gun aimed at him. He shouted "Peru, Peru," several times before the guard would understand and lower the rifle.
Landing safely at last, he immediately proceeded to Lima to report to the Dictator, and hurried back to take command of the sloop again.
The reconnoiter of San Lorenzo had convinced Paul that the island was watched from end to end in the closest manner and it was useless to attempt to work from there with the means at hand. He determined to lead out in a different direction to accomplish his designs, and his next move was a cruise due southward to the island off Pachacamac and generally called by that name. The little sloop wound her way in and out among the numerous rocky islets off the coast. Under their close shelter she picked her way hidden from the Chilean cruisers that turned their guns on everything not of their own kind, on the sea. The coast is extremely wild and utterly deserted, formed of lofty ledges of rock, hollowed into caverns underneath, by the insidious beating of the trade wind waves. The chiseled doorways to those caves are rare specimens of Nature's mysterious work; some large, some small and of queer, fantastic shapes; that black-mouthed gape at chance passers, while towering high above, a roof of table land—arid, scorching pampas, is just as uninviting as the water way below. So desolate is that part of the coast that it is but little known. Don Nicholas and a group of Peruvian officers to whom Paul described the caves, expressed the utmost astonishment, though born and bred within twenty five miles of their mysterious recesses. The desert above is traversed only by a narrow trail and is seldom used, while even the fishermen give the caverns below a wide berth, being superstitious and fearful of the strange cries that are heard echoing from their depths. That is why they are so little known and never explored.
During the day, when a Chilean cruiser nosed around uncomfortably close, the little sloop would be hugged under the lee of one of the islands, sail lowered and anchor dropped. Paul was thus given an opportunity of exploring the caves. Sometimes he paddled into them encased in his rubber dress; but generally he used a little gig, carrying an ax, knife, carbine and a few biscuits, spending whole days in those lonely places whenever the sea permitted. Once while exploring along the coast, he observed a great table rock that had been washed down until it rested upon two natural pillars, forming the capstone of the entrance to a great cave. The sea was rolling heavily at the time, but by cautiously backing the gig, he succeeded in entering. A scene of marvelous beauty met his wondering eyes. High above, the rays of the tropical sun pierced the numerous cracks and crevices in the arched roof of the cavern, illuminating with gorgeous coloring the submarine vegetation which hung like long snakes from roof and walls. Here the curling vines and tendrils glowed a deep purple; there, owing to changing light, a dark green; everywhere, light greens, dark reds, pinks, crimsons, yellows, greys, bright reds and every conceivable color. Sea fans and, sea plumes there were in endless variety, while outside, in the scorching heat, no sign of vegetation relieved the eye, inside was cool and beautiful with the luxuriance of the flora of the sea. The sides of the cavern were filled with molusca—radiantly colored shells, sea urchins and innumerable specimens of marine life. Along the pale green surfaces of shelving rocks, sea foxes, a fur bearing animal on that coast; bright, wicked little fellows, darted about, uttering shrill cries at the intrusion of the stranger as he drifted slowly back into their fairylike abode. Paul felt as though he would like to have one of the little fellows and raised his carbine to shoot; but it seemed profanation to disturb the grand serenity and beauty of the scene. The weapon was lowered and the animals allowed to play undisturbed.
The gig was backed slowly through the brilliant arches until the light became dim and the darkening recesses wore a gruesome look. Thinking it unsafe to penetrate further the vast, unknown aisles, Paul rowed out of the yawning mouth after picking up many shells of every hue.
Next evening anchor was weighed and the sloop headed for Pachacamac. It was beautiful moonlight. About midnight, sailing close in shore, they were passing a white, sandy beach when one of the crew asked Boyton if he would like some turtles, as the place they were then passing, swarmed with them. An affirmative answer being given, the sloop was hove to, while Paul and the sailor entered the gig and pulled ashore. Under the strong rays of the moon, the turtles on the white sand appeared to be as thick as ants. Selecting two or three of the smaller size for their game, hundreds of them being too large to be turned over by their united efforts, they quickly threw them on their backs while the others ran into the sea with astonishing celerity considering their very poor reputation for speed. Paul and the sailor transferred their capture to the boat and in a short time the ugly animals were turned over to the scientific ministrations of the cook. About ten o'clock next morning they put into a little bay, bound in by rocks and well hidden, on the shore side of the island of Pachacamac. There they passed several days, and many fruitless attempts were made with floating torpedoes to destroy the steamer Pilcamo. They worked only at night time and laid under the friendly shelter of the rocks during the day.
It was their custom during the daytime to explore the ruins of the ancient Inca buildings, the island having been the site of their temple and used also as a place of burial; for their strange tombs are numerous there. One of the crew was an expert in locating those Inca tombs. By sinking a pointed rod in the sand he could easily tell when a grave was below and after some laborious digging, the oven shaped top of the tomb was exposed. With a heavy pick an opening would be made through the sun burnt brick, and instantly a rush of foul air assailed the nostrils, though the bodies had been buried there for perhaps thousands of years.
When a hole large enough was made, Paul and the expert sailor would drop through it into the oval space below. There they invariably found several mummies seated in a circle, with their heads on the knees around which their arms were clasped. Some of them were encased in wicker work, others in cloth made of alpaca wool in brilliant colors and gorgeous with curious designs. The bodies were wonderfully preserved. In the center of these weird circles were found earthenware vessels containing petrified corn. As the sun streamed in lighting up the awe inspiring groups, whose history runs beyond all knowledge of the present day, one could but think of the deep and wonderful secrets which the grave conceals.
Paul gathered many curious things of prehistoric workmanship and only regretted that the limited quarters of the sloop prevented his taking all he desired. He was so deeply interested in excavating the tombs, however, that regardless of his inability to carry more relics, he prosecuted the search in the hope that he might discover something that would throw mote light on the habits, customs and peculiarities of the strange race. It struck him, however, that laborious digging through the hot sand was not the best method of reaching the mummies, and he overcame the difficulty by dropping a charge of dynamite which blew an opening with sufficient force to have given the dried up Incas a headache had they been sensible of feeling. He found many stone idols, specimens of pottery, bracelets, anklets, chains and other ornaments fashioned out of gold and silver and of strange designs.