The next morning we got a view of the land. It was just after the Orion had gone about on the starboard tack. The mountains loomed up but four or five miles away. And while the vessel slowly came up into the wind, I eagerly scanned the horizon for a sail that should seem to be the Pearl. But there was no ship of any kind in view. My heart sank. Could it be that after all they had not ferreted out our secret message?
The day following, sometime before noon, we heard sounds of excitement on the vessel. And we heard Duran's voice; "cussing in French," Ray said he was doing.
We got to the porthole.
"They must have got sight of the Pearl," I said. Our hopes were high. Even on the starboard tack, we saw nothing but the sea, now fallen almost calm.
A half hour passed; we were again at the porthole.
"There she is!" cried Ray and I together. The Pearl was in view.
Soon the wind was on us, as we could hear; and it grew dark. There was much scurrying on the deck overhead. Spray began to come in through our porthole, and we must close it. We could see birds rushing by. Our course was changed; no longer could we see the Pearl. The roar of the storm increased every moment.
"It must be a hurricane," said Ray.
At last we saw land close by our porthole. Directly, we were in lee of it, and we heard the anchor go overboard.
"Well, we're in some kind of a harbor," I told Ray.