“And what we have to do now is to find a way into the interior.”

Pitch shook his head sadly. “I’d give five years of my life to do it, Steve,” he said, “but I don’t see how. I really don’t. Certainly we can’t get up from here.”

“No,” Steve agreed. “But there’s the sea, Pitch,” he added eagerly. “We can take the launch and look for a place where it might be possible to climb up.”

“I doubt that we could even get close enough to look, Steve. The waves would crash us against those stone walls. You’ve seen them. You know.”

“But we could try, Pitch,” Steve insisted. “There’s no other way.” He paused, then added slowly, “Unless you just want to stay here in the canyon.”

“No,” Pitch denied quickly, “I never could be content to stay here now! You’re right, Steve. We must do everything we can to get into the interior. This is probably the most important thing that’s ever happened to either of us. Come on, we’ll get the boat and see what we can find.”

A short while later they were in the launch and running alongside the island. The launch rolled on the giant swells that crashed heavily against the walled barrier of Azul Island.

They had gone a good distance when Pitch said, “I’m afraid I was right, Steve. We can’t get close enough to the island without crashing, much less try to find a possible way up the sides. It’s no use.”

But Steve’s eyes were turned shoreward toward a bursting spray of white foam, where a wave had struck something just before reaching the walls of Azul Island. In the few seconds before the next long line of waves rolled shoreward, Steve saw a dark greenish rock that rose from the sea only twenty feet or less from the mountainous shore. “Pitch,” he said, “I see something. Bring her in closer here.”

Cautiously Pitch brought the launch around, his eyes never leaving the waters in front of the prow. “We really shouldn’t, Steve,” he said gravely. “There are far too many submerged rocks along here.”

Momentarily Steve glanced into the clear waters about them, and he too saw the black shadows of the rocks below, some rising higher than others and easily capable of putting a hole into the hull of the launch. He heard Pitch mumbling something about being a greenhorn at a time like this. But the launch kept its slow, steady course toward shore as Pitch skillfully avoided the rocks.

“Tell me what you see, Steve,” Pitch said, without taking his eyes from the swirling waters.

They were but thirty or forty yards away from the large moss-covered rock, and coming in just to the right of it. Steve watched a giant swell descend upon the rock, and waited for the white, foaming waters to pour from its sides. Then he saw a long narrow rock behind the larger one. “Pitch!” he shouted. “There’s another rock behind the big one that’s just ahead of us. It goes right up to the wall!”

Another swell struck the large rock, and this time Steve watched the waters as they cascaded off its sides and swept past both rocks until they rolled up against the yellow walls of Azul Island. He noticed that the waters struck the walls with little force and then would roll seaward again until they were stopped by the incoming waters that swept around the big rock. The result was a small channel alongside the two rocks, of swirling but navigable waters.

“What is it, Steve?” Pitch asked impatiently, as he turned the launch away from the shore.