THE AMERICAN WHALEMAN. 115 



as we could lay in these calm latitudes. We sighted the 

 cloud-capped heights of Cocos, but were three days in work- 

 ing up to an anchorage in the beautiful bay. 



This solitary island is touched by the southern skirt of the 

 south-east trade-winds. Its mountains serve to condense the 

 vapors borne by the hot winds, which here meet the upward 

 currents of the equatorial belt, and consequently the island 

 is enveloped in clouds, its climate bearing the character of 

 constant rain. The whalers run from great distances for 

 water supplies from the pure stream which flows into the 

 head of the bay. We towed our water-casks ashore in long 

 snake-like rafts, and filled them directly on the beach, lead- 

 ing the water by a spout from the ravine to the edge of the 

 sea. In this manner four hundred barrels of water were ob- 

 tained in a very short time. After this duty was done, we 

 had liberty on shore. On the beach at the head of the bay 

 are many detached rocks, of such softness that they may be 

 easily cut with a carpenter's chisel, and on their surface are 

 carved the names of many ships, and persons who have vis- 

 ited the spot. We soon became in a degree inured to the 

 rain ; and notwithstanding the thoroughly soaked condition 

 of every thing, we plodded through the marvelous ferns and 

 mosses, over hill and valley, to feast our sea-tired eyes with 

 the beauty of a miraculous vegetation. Now, for the first 

 time, my anticipation of tropical growths was exceeded, and 

 I wandered from beauty to beauty with a pleasure alloyed 

 only by the enveloping clouds and pouring rain. 



A deep, fertile soil, held in place by the fibrous roots and 

 mosses, covers the steep hill-sides, and everywhere we see an 

 endless variety of strange plants, urged into the wildest lux- 

 uriance of growth by the extremes of heat and moisture. It 

 seemed a vast conservatory, in which every growth was per- 

 fected and uninterrupted, decay being instantly covered by 

 new accumulations of beautiful life. My poor language is 



