We decided to go round the island beach for signs of any recent landing parties. We found the boat, used by the black of the cabin, in its usual place. Then we took to the beach, and with the occasional use of our battery lamps, we examined the sand floor as we went. We completed the circuit, seeing nothing to our interest. And then Norris was for at once going into that thicket where Robert and Carlos had witnessed the going in and out of Duran and that mysterious, naked black.
Robert led the way, which took us into the clearing to the north of the cabin. In a little, we had found a winding way, cut into the thicket. In the center of that jungle we came into a space having the dimensions of a small room. The floor was level—of sand. We threw our light around.
"Not a sign of anything here," declared Norris.
But Robert had another word to say. "Here it is!" he cried. And we joined him, where he was stamping with his foot. There was a sound—or feel—as we came down with our heels, of something hollow beneath.
We scraped the sand away with our hands, making a hole less than a foot in depth; and came upon something made of boards.
"So far, so good," said Norris. "The stuff is there without much doubt. We have nothing more to do, now, but wait till the Pearl gets here, tomorrow."
When we settled down beside our boat, close to the south beach, the night breeze was rustling the dry palm fans above our heads; the ripples broke on the beach with a soft playful sound.
"I guess Captain Marat will be getting sail on the schooner, now," I observed.
"I wish this same wind would get him here tonight," complained Norris.
"We ought to be glad we can depend on another wind to get him in tomorrow," I reproved the impatient one.