There
were coasting steamers, launches, sail-boats, skiffs, and canoes.
Along the shore above the tide-line were rows of schooners
fashioned from gigantic tree-trunks and capable of carrying many
tons, all squatting upon the mud, their white sails raised to dry
like the outstretched wings of resting sea-gulls.
The landing was thronged, and, at sight of the newcomers,
loiterers gathered from all sides--a pirate throng, shouting a
dozen dialects and forcing Kirk to battle lustily for his luggage.
Stepping into a skiff, they were rowed to a launch, and a few
moments later were gliding swiftly around the long rock-rib that
guards the harbor, a copper-hued bandit at the wheel, a Nubian
giant at the engine, and an evil, yellow-faced desperado sprawling
upon the forward deck.
Looking back, they saw the city spread out in brilliant panorama,
clear and beautiful in the morning radiance. Packed and dense it
lay, buttressed by the weather-stained ramparts which legend says
were built by the women while their husbands were at war, and
backed by the green heights of Ancon, against which the foreign
houses nestled. Set in the foreground, like an ivory carving, was
the Government Theatre, while away beyond it loomed the Tivoli.
Noting armed sentinels pacing the sea wall at a certain spot, Kirk
called his companion's attention to them.
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