“No, not one,” said Smith. “I once heard some one may as it would take a long time to cut through Primrose Hill with a mustard spoon, and I can’t help thinking as it would take as long to make our canal.”
“Now, my lads, what are you doing?” cried the mate.
“Only just taking a sniff at the hole here, sir,” replied Smith, rising from his knees.
“Well, and what can you smell—sulphur?”
“No, sir, it’s more of a brimstone smell, just as if somebody had been burning matches down below in the back kitchen, sir. Now, my lads, forrard,” he whispered, for the mate had turned and gone on after the others.
In a very short time the mountain was forgotten in the many objects of interest encountered at the edge of the forest, each naturalist finding, as he afterwards owned, ample specimens connected with his own especial branch to last him for weeks of earnest study. But at the suggestion of the mate they pressed on, and, choosing the easiest line of route they could find, they at last reached the shore where the boat lay upon the coral and shell-sand high up out of reach of the tide.
She was soon launched, the party half lifting, half pushing, as they ran on either side, and then as she floated, springing in and gliding off over a lovely forest of coral and weed only a foot or two beneath the boat’s keel. Every spray was clearly seen, for the water was perfectly still and limpid in the lagoon, while a mile out the sea curled over in great billows and broke with a dull, thunderous roar upon the barrier reef which stretched north and south as far as eye could reach, but with a quiet space here and there which told of openings in the coral rock, gateways so to speak leading out into the open sea.
The sun beat down with tropical force, but the gentle breeze from the ocean rendered the heat bearable, and a feeling of combined restfulness and pleasure came over Oliver Lane as he watched the wondrous transparent tints of the billows as their arches glistened in the sunshine before striking the coral reef, and breaking into foam which flashed and sparkled like freshly-cut gems.
Turning from this he could feast his eyes upon the brilliantly scaled fish which glided in and out amongst the branching coral and bushy weed which formed a miniature submarine forest of pink, blue, amber, scarlet, and golden brown. Gorgeous creatures were some of these fish when they turned over a little on one side, displaying their armour of silver, gold, and orange, often in vivid bands across steely blue or brilliant green. Twice over, long, lithe sharks were seen hurrying out of their course, each of a dingy grey, with what Wriggs called a “shovel nose,” and curious tail with the top of the fork continued far out beyond the lower portion.
But there was the shore to take his attention, too, and to this he turned eagerly as the shrieking and whistling of a flock of birds met his ear, and he saw them flying along over the far-stretching grove of cocoa-nut palms which curved up in a curious way from the very sand where at certain times the sea must have nearly washed their roots.