One
low hill, rose-colored from base to summit, with scarce a hint of
the green world below that canopy of giant bloom, a little silver
beach with wonderful shells upon it, the sound of a waterfall and a
lazy surf, - we smelt the fruits and the flowers, and a longing for
the land came upon us. Six men were left on the ship, and all
besides went ashore. Some rolled the water casks toward the sound
of the cascade; others plunged into the forest, to return laden with
strange and luscious fruits, birds, guanas, conies, - whatever
eatable thing they could lay hands upon; others scattered along the
beach to find turtle eggs, or, if fortune favored them, the turtle
itself. They laughed, they sang, they swore, until the isle rang to
their merriment. Like wanton children, they called to each other, to
the screaming birds, to the echoing bloom-draped hill.
I spread a square of cloth upon the sand, in the shadow of a mighty
tree that stood at the edge of the forest, and the King's ward took
her seat upon it, and looked, in the golden light of the sinking sun,
the very spirit of the isle. By this we two were alone on the beach.
The hunters for eggs, led by Diccon, were out upon the farthest
gleaming horn; from the wood came the loud laughter of the fruit
gatherers, and a most rollicking song issuing from the mighty chest
of Master Jeremy Sparrow.
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