The sun was a hand's breadth above the horizon when the hull of La Flecha hissed onto the short sandy beach next to the southern tip of Angel Island.
It was Morales himself who ordered the landing. At that point, he and everyone else had spent over ten hours in the boat. Everybody was glad to stretch their legs, and several crewmen also had other pressing needs. They disappeared into the bushes beyond the beach while the rest of the crew made the boat secure.
"We could rest a little, and then sail up the coast a little before it gets dark," the captain told Morales. "When we were getting close, I spotted the ideal spot to spend the night."
"Oh? What makes it better than this spot here?" asked Morales. He didn't really want to board the boat again, at least not until the next morning.
"A stream," said the captain. "Fresh water."
Morales nodded.
