For awhile the voyagers sat around on the deck listening to the professor’s stories of his experiences in the South Seas, but it had been a long and arduous day and they soon began to grow weary.
“I think,” began Tom, in a pause in the talk, suppressing a yawn. “I think I shall turn in until time for my watch.” It had been arranged that some one of the four should always be on deck.
“A very sensible idea,” agreed the professor; “I think we will all be better for a good night’s rest.”
Without incident of note, all through the night the Storm King sped on her way south.
The party were all on deck early the next morning. It seemed on looking around that they were alone on the wide sweep of water. Way off to the west the sails of a vessel showed white like the wings of a bird on the horizon, and far away to the north was a blur from the smoke of a steamer.
It was well along in the morning when the bold headline of the cliff that marked the entrance to San Matteo Bay came into view, and it was middle afternoon when the yacht glided into the bay and sought an anchorage.
“Broome,” said the captain, “knows this harbor as he knows his cabin, but I am not familiar with any part except that near the entrance. It’s full of rocks farther in, and I will anchor under the lea of these northern cliffs where I know there is sufficient depth of water.”
The harbor covered an area of several square miles, and there was to be seen only one other vessel, a small lugger which lay close to the lower end of the bay.
“Well,” remarked Berwick, looking about the harbor. “Our piratical friend Broome doesn’t seem to have kept the appointment you made for him, Jim.”
“Not yet,” replied Jim, “but there is still time enough.”