Sam's eyesight was particularly
good, and he was one of the first to detect the white gleam of a
lighthouse. Soon the coast-line was distinct, and it was learned that
they would arrive on the next day. By daybreak Sam was on deck,
studying as well as he could this new land of heroism and adventure.
Cleary joined him later, and the two friends watched the strange
tropical shore with its palm-groves and occasional villages, and a
range of mountains beyond. A bay opened before them, and the ship
turned in, passing near an old fortification.
"This is just where our fleet went in," said Cleary, examining a
folding map which he held in his hand. "They passed along there single
file," and he pointed out the passage.
"Wasn't it glorious! Just think of sailing straight on, no matter how
many torpedoes there were!" exclaimed Sam.
"They knew blamed well there weren't any torpedoes," answered Cleary.
"How could they have known? They hadn't ever been here before? There
might perfectly well have been a lot of them directly under them."
"Yes," said Cleary, "they might have grown up from the bottom of the
sea. All sorts of queer things grow here. There might have been a sort
of coral torpedoes."
"Cleary, you're getting more and more cynical every day. I wish you'd
be more reasonable. What's the matter with you?"
"It must be the newspaper business.
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