102 ^$lffll<O*&P*TlE SEA; OH, 



CHAPTER VIII. 



Volcanic Desolation. To Black Beach for Terrapins. We reject Green 

 Turtle. Strange new Life. Town ho! First Terrapin. Alive Knap- 

 sack. Grandfather as an Angler. Supper in Camp. Terrapin and 

 Iguana. Jim Sellers's Philosophy, and probationary State for Cap- 

 tains. Watch by the Camp-fires. Breakfast, and proper Stowage of 

 Grub. A Cruise up into the Island. The Voice of the Terrapin is 

 heard in the Land. Brown and the Sculptor. 



THE appearance of these volcanic islands is the extreme 

 opposite of my prior conceptions of tropical scenery, but 

 they fully realize the desolation of an earth born of fire. 

 The jagged peaks shoot into the air almost devoid of vege- 

 tation. In places the sky outline is broken by gigantic cy- 

 lindrical, or flat-stemmed cacti, whose rigid forms and blunt 

 terminations are only suggestive of dead, branchless trees. 

 Along the shores at intervals are stunted growths of brownish 

 foliage, and at the projecting points black, shapeless masses 

 of lava. My dreams of the verdure and bloom of the tropics 

 seem as though they are never to be satisfied. But, as 

 Posey remarks, it was not for scenery we came in, and we 

 will find the best fruits of this paradise running on four 

 feet, and packed away in shells. The old hands long since 

 whetted our appetites by toothsome talk of the land-terra- 

 pin of these islands, and we cheerfully lent a hand in prep- 

 arations for an early start to Black Beach, a few miles from 

 the anchorage, to seek the delicate game. 



Two old boats were selected, stored, and swung alongside. 

 Long before day-dawn, the call of " all hands turn out for 

 shore duty," started the crew into active life. A hurried 



