It was still broad daylight, particularly on the open sea, and on the heights of the cliff. The shores below were becoming dark.
The coast-guardman, still engaged in his duty, and carefully scanning the offing, had not thought of observing the rocks at his side and at his feet. He turned his back towards the difficult sort of causeway which formed the communication between his resting-place and the shore. He did not, therefore, remark that something was moving in that direction. Behind a fragment of rock, among the steps of that causeway, something like the figure of a man had been concealed, according to all appearances, since the arrival of the coast-guardman. From time to time a head issued from the shadow behind the rock; looked up and watched the watcher. The head, surmounted by a wide-brimmed American hat, was that of the Quaker-looking man, who, ten days before, was talking among the stones of the Petit-Bey to Captain Zuela.
Suddenly, the curiosity of the coast-guardman seemed to be still more strongly awakened. He polished the glass of his telescope quickly with his sleeve, and brought it to bear closely upon the three-master.
A little black spot seemed to detach itself from her side.
The black spot, looking like a small insect upon the water, was a boat.
The boat seemed to be making for the shore. It was manned by several sailors, who were pulling vigorously.
She pulled crosswise by little and little, and appeared to be approaching the Pointe du Décollé.
The gaze of the coast-guardman seemed to have reached its most intense point. No movement of the boat escaped it. He had approached nearer still to the verge of the rock.
At that instant a man of large stature appeared on one of the rocks behind him. It was the Quaker. The officer did not see him.
The man paused an instant, his arms at his sides, but with his fists doubled; and with the eye of a hunter, watching for his prey, he observed the back of the officer.