So the crew of the Sea Eagle passed in review this coast of Hawaii, with black precipices, that rose in a continuous line of palisades from out the sea, with no white beach shelving down. The great green surges, with the force of the Pacific behind them, rolled against the perpendicular walls, the dark surfaces of which were veined at frequent intervals by the silvery lines of the waterfalls, or graced by the vines which fell in straight lines, or were looped in varied shapes.
Beyond these cliffs there rose the splendid slopes, with here and there groves of royal palms and slender cocoa trees, fit temples for the gods of ancient Hawaii who were supposed to dwell in streams and groves and mountains. Still higher up the mountain side grew the forests of creamy koa, inlaid among the dark-leaved kukui.
At times the skirts of the clouds, heavy with moisture, dragged along the lower slopes, and a soft gloom would diffuse itself over the landscape. Then the sun would roll the mists aside for the moment, and the light would fall upon tropical vales, hills and mountain slopes, with all the vividness of the early spring and yet with the full, rich splendor of summer.
No wonder the Frontier Boys were silent as they gazed upon this scene of varied and unusual beauty, so different from the wild and barren grandeur of the mountain ranges in their own country, and the arid deserts they had traveled over.
“I’d hate to fall overboard here,” exclaimed Tom, “it looks all-fired deep.”
“The captain says that along these island coasts,” remarked Juarez, “is some of the deepest seas in the world.”
“Say, Jeems,” cried Juarez to the invalid, “wade out here and see how deep it is.”
“If you really want to know I’ll tell you,” responded Jeems, the philosopher. “Off this coast it’s between five and seven thousand feet.”
“Whew!” whistled Jim, “over a mile, how is that for down?”
“It makes me shiver to think of it,” exclaimed Tom.