“That fort commands the harbor, if we can call this a harbor when it has no shelter from any storm from the east or south, where most of the tempests of this region come from,” continued the vice-principal, who had been at these islands before. “The rock is seventy feet high; and the Portuguese have made it impossible to climb up its steep sides, except by the steps opposite the island. The top of it is three hundred feet long by a hundred wide; and this space is covered by a fort, mounting fourteen guns, which is always kept garrisoned, as a sort of regulator of the vessels in the roadstead. If they don’t obey orders, and follow the rules of the port, a gun from that fort will remind them of the neglect; and any attempt to evade them will bring a shot.” “There is a mole, or something of that kind,” added Scott, who was off duty, and was privileged to observe the wonders of the shore. “That is the Pontinha. It is a sort of breakwater, though it affords no great protection to vessels, which are sometimes obliged to get up their anchors, and work out to sea, to avoid being cast upon the rocks. It is an embankment built out to a small island on which is the fort of San José. You see that the vessels behind the Loo Rock are moored in a line. They are made fast to heavy cables, secured by iron bolts to the rock at the bow, while a stern line is carried to the shore of the main island. The bottom is very rocky, and the holding ground is not good.” All hands were called to be ready to moor ship; but even this was not allowable until the health officers had visited the schooners, and a government boat had been alongside. When these formalities were all completed, the two vessels hauled in beside the American Prince, and were moored like the other craft. As soon as the rules of the port would permit it,--for no vessel can communicate with the shore, or with another vessel, until the proper permits are obtained,--the vice-principals went on board of the Prince to report to the principal, who of course had no intimation of the stirring events which had transpired on the passage from Gibraltar. The boat’s crew that pulled them to the steamer boarded the Prince; and the students told the story of the Ville d’Angers, though the Princes had nothing of interest to relate in return, for the ship had not sailed till the violence of the storm had abated, and had made a tolerably comfortable voyage. The Princes thought the fellows in the picked-up steamer were having a jolly time of it; and most of them were willing to believe they had taken it into their heads to go off on a cruise by themselves, and would return when they got ready. Scott defended O’Hara from the implied charges against him, and was confident the Ville d’Angers would soon arrive. “It will be a big lark for those fellows,” insisted McLane, the fourth lieutenant of the Prince. “It’s no lark at all, Mack,” replied Scott. “O’Hara is a countryman of yours, and you judge him by yourself.”