It's so much flatter.

Why, you can't hardly find a place to land here, without getting your boat stove in." "If all's true, the smugglers know how to land things," said Archibald, as he gazed thoughtfully at the cliffs.
"Oh, them! O' course, sir, they can go up the cliffs, and over 'em like flies in sugar basins.

They get a spar over the edge, with a reg'lar pulley, and lets down over the boats, and then up the kegs and bales comes." "Ah, well, we must catch them at it some day, Dick, and then there'll be lots o' prize-money for you all." "And for you too, sir; officers comes first.

But we arn't got the prize yet, and it's my belief as we shan't get it." "Why ?" "Because it seems to me as there's something not all right about these here craft." "Of course there is, they are smugglers." "Yes, sir, and worse too.

If they was all right, we shouldn't ha' been cruising 'bout here seven weeks, and never got a sight o' one of 'em, when we know they've been here all the time." "I don't understand you, Dick," said the middy, as he watched the going and coming of the rock pigeons which flew straight for the cliff, seemed to pass right in, and then dashed out.
"Well, sir, I can't explain it.