The island had a strange, wild beauty that seemed to throttle speech.
The underlying coral reefs were of colours that ran from pure white to
gorgeous crimson, and the effect upon the water above them was wonderful
to behold. _The Waif_ seemed to make her way over a floor of beautiful
parquetry which Mother Nature had been constructing for centuries.
Chameleon-tinted seaweeds stretched upward, waving backward and forward
like the hair of sea nymphs hidden in the crevices of the multi-coloured
rocks.
The vegetation on the shore was weird and wondrous. The trees
immediately near the edge of the bay were covered with riotous lianas
that looped themselves like pythons from limb to limb, and from whose
green masses blazing red flowers appeared at intervals like watchful
eyes. Scarlet hibiscus and perfumed frangipanni were everywhere, while
climbing jasmine tried to cover up the black basalt rocks in the
foreground as if to hide everything that was ugly from the eyes of the
visitor. The sweet, intoxicating odours came out to us in greeting, yet
the place seemed to inspire us with a feeling of awe and mystery that
became more oppressive as the yacht moved lazily across the bay.
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