AN ISLAND OF WATER 327 



remained locked, lying on their sides, squawking 

 full steam through half -closed beaks until I went 

 out and hurled them both over the rail. After 

 the voluntary leave-taking of the white tern I had 

 no fear for the safety of these great birds, provided 

 the plunge cooled their frenzy of hate. 



The rain ceased just before dawn and gave place 

 to a strange, hard sunrise — a scarlet slit in the ash 

 grey of the east, and an unreal, pallid, greenish 

 expanse in the north. In this eerie light, at five- 

 thirty, we made the first sounding which I have 

 described. 



In the ten days during which I floated over my 

 island, I had rather remarkable luck in recording 

 birds. I observed seventy-four altogether, com- 

 prising thirteen species. Six of these were sea- 

 birds from Cocos, which had come this great dis- 

 tance to some favorite feeding ground, or in a 

 few instances had perhaps been blown farther 

 than they had intended to fly. Of those which 

 came on board in nights of stress and storm, some 

 were obviously exhausted but most were appar- 

 ently strong on the wing, and only confused and 

 distracted from their true course by the sudden 

 vision of the ship's lights. 



Five other species, three petrels and two shear- 

 waters, were true pelagic birds, feeding as they 

 flew and paying no attention to the vessel. Then 

 there were two strays, probably storm driven, a 

 gull and a warbler. 



To be more specific, one day a frigatebird flew 

 past with its marvellously slow wing beats, headed 



