CHAPTER VII 



The Making of an Island 



It is almost an accepted routine for shipwrecked sailors on 

 tropical islands to make a circuit of their respective domains, 

 if for no other reason than to satisfy themselves of what they 

 already know or suspect— that they are on an island. This cus- 

 tom was originated by no less a person than that doughty and 

 personable character Robinson Crusoe himself. As a full-fledged 

 castaway I felt bound to follow the established tradition al- 

 though I had as an excuse the more logical purpose of deter- 

 mining the essential topographical and ecological character- 

 istics of Inagua in order to proceed intelligently with a study 

 of the island's inhabitants. The brief glimpse of the wild bush 

 as Coleman and I saw it from the deck of Daxon's boat was 

 enough to convince me of a considerable diversity of environ- 

 ment and the coast was sufliciently beautiful and intriguing to 

 provide the additional incentive of pure curiosity which, after 

 all, is the driving force behind most scientific endeavor. 



There was, also, another and more personal reason for the 

 trip. Word had reached me through the medium of a small 

 sailing boat that touched at Mathewtown that the hulk of the 

 Basilisk had been lifted out of its grave and cast over the reef 

 by the strong gale that came up the evening after Coleman had 

 departed. The surf had thrown it high and dry on the beach. 

 I also heard that the Daxons and other natives were cutting 

 the remaining timbers apart to secure the bronze and galvanized 

 fastenings. These tidings disturbed me considerably. There was 

 no earthly reason, perhaps, why the Inaguans should not be 

 free to despoil the wreck, but the sentiment which I attached 



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