CHAPTER II 

 BEACHCOMBING 



" For the Beachcomber, when not a mere ruffian, is the poor 

 relation of the artist." 



IN justification of the assumption of the title of "Beach- 

 comber," it must be said that, having made good and suffi- 

 cient provision against the advent of the wet season (which 

 begins, as a rule, during the Christmas holidays), the major 

 portion of each week was spent in first formal and official 

 calls, and then friendly and familiar visits to the neigh- 

 bouring islands and the mainland. 



Duty and inclination constrained me to find out what 

 were the states and moods of all the bays and coves of all 

 the isles ; the location and form of rocks and reefs ; the 

 character of shrubs and trees ; the nature of the jungle- 

 covered hilltops ; the features of bluffs and precipices ; to 

 understand the style and manner and the conversation of 

 unfamiliar birds ; to discover where the turtle most do con- 

 gregate ; the favourite haunts of fishes. I was in a hurry 

 to partake freely of the novel, and yearned for pleasure of 

 the absolute freedom of isles uninhabited, shores untrodden ; 

 eager to know how Nature, not under the microscope, 

 behaved ; what were her maiden fancies, what the art with 

 which she allures. 



But there was an excuse, rather an imperious com- 

 mand, for all the apparent waste of time. Before the rains 

 came thundering on the iron roof of our little hut, the 

 washed-out and enfeebled town-dweller who gave way to 

 bitter reflections on the first evening of his new career, 

 could hardly have been recognised, thanks to the robustious, 

 wholesome effects of the free and vitalising life. Fourteen, 



53 



