house people were accustomed to these visits of
mysterious craft, which, for that matter, came to this solitary
archipelago just because they did not want to be noticed. The sailors
could see the lights in the buildings on shore and hear voices even, but
they paid no more attention to them than to the gulls that darted
rapidly by overhead on the blasts of the gale, wailing like infants in
agony. Outside, and on the windward shore of the island, the sea was
snarling angrily. As the waves rolled by the promontory they sent great
smooth undulations back into the calm of the bay.

As soon as it was light, Pascualo went ashore, and up over a winding
trail he found, he climbed the cliffs, to study the looks of things
between the islet and the mainland, which still lay invisible in the
storm. Not a sail in sight! But that did not reassure the Rector. The
Columbretas were notorious as a refuge for smugglers in bad weather. He
was sure his pursuers would follow him there. At the same time he was
afraid to put to sea again in that leaky boat. Not afraid to die, but
how about that load of tobacco, and the money he had put into it! Yes,
but stay there, and have the government get it? Not much! To sea, then,
even if the whole thing went to the bottom for the sharks to smoke! No
coast guard was ever going to brag about getting rich on him!

After the meal at noon time, the _Garbosa_ spread her sail, and left the
sheltered anchorage as mysteriously as she had come. She said not even
good-by to the lighthouse people who came out on the platform in front
of the beacon to see her off. _Dios_, what a wind! First a slap here and
then a slap there! The _Garbosa_ almost stood on her stern end as she
was lifted by the first wave, outside; but she staggered free and shoved
her nose into the green of the trough that followed, as though she were
headed for the depths through one of those gigantic eddies that blinked
like treacherous eyes of the abyss. Then, crash! The next comber came
full aboard, the water churning into a white roar or atomized in spray,
and sweeping aft in cascades over the bales of tobacco, while the crew,
soaked to the skin, held on for dear life. Tonet grew pale, and clenched
his teeth. He didn't mind bad weather in the right boat; but it was fool
business leaving shelter in that God-forsaken punt. But the Rector,
pot-bellied numskull that he was, would not listen to reason! The
driveling idiot seemed to grow fat on getting