“No,” answered Billy; “it’s not just jagged, seaweed-covered rocks, but all white, almost like marble, a little bit rough and uneven, but not like the rocks we get at home. This reef seems to be all in a piece, like a great, tremendously thick wall—”
“Yes,” I interrupted; “I think I understand. It is probably a coral reef. How far does it extend?”
“How far?” reiterated Billy. “Why,”—pointing—“it comes from away over there, as far as you can see, and stretches right across to as far as you can see on the other side.”
“Ay,” I agreed; “a coral reef, without a doubt. And how much water is there alongside?”
“Not more than two or three feet, at most,” answered Billy. “We’re standin’ a lot higher out of the water than we were when afloat. When I first noticed it I thought it was because it happened to be low water when I looked; but it isn’t that, because it’s always pretty nearly the same. I don’t think there’s a difference of more than just a few inches between high and low water.”
“In that case,” I commented, as much to myself as to my companion, “the explanation probably is that when we hit the reef the sea was heaped up by the gale considerably above its usual level, and that it has now subsided again, leaving us nearly high and dry. Now, Billy, is there any land in sight? If so, what does it look like?”
Billy considered for a moment or two, evidently conjuring up a mental picture. Then he answered:
“First, about two miles off, there’s a beach of very white sand. Then there’s a lot of trees—palm trees, I think they must be—growing all along the inner edge of the beach, and, behind them, bushes and more trees—thousands—millions of ’em, of all sorts of colours—white, yellow, green, red, purple—but I don’t remember seein’ any that were really black.”
“Is there a mountain on the island?” I asked.
“Well—no; not exactly what you’d call a mountain, I think; but there are plenty of fairly high hills,” answered Billy.