THE REMOUS 89 
now and then, big grouper, at the mouths of the Nariva and 
Ortoire, but only when the river water gets salt, that is, to- 
wards the middle of the dry season, which, in that district, 
is rather an unknown quantity. If the visitor enjoys surf 
bathing he can get of the very best along the Eastern beach, 
and he can get pleasant interludes of riding, driving, and an 
occasional shot at game-birds or beasts, all pleasures un- 
known at the Bocas Islands. Each place has its own charac- 
teristics, and in the event of arrangements being made for the 
proper entertainment of guests (at present there is but the 
Government Rest-house at Mayaro, with only limited accom- 
modation), the East coast will prove a formidable rival to 
the Bocas. Personally, through old association and a keen 
love of fishing, I have an indubitable preference for the 
latter district, more particularly, as I do not care for surf 
bathing; I infinitely prefer the deep sea-baths of Monos, 
Gasparee, and Chacachacare. One of the things worth 
living for, to a denizen of the tropics who can swim, is to 
stand on a rock or jetty stripped to the buff, at the first flush 
of dawn, hands over head, and with the Hindu invocation, 
“Mother of all, I come,’’ or the Creole equivalent, ‘“O gros- 
la-mer, gros-la-mer,”’ dive into the pellucid depths 10, 20, aye, 
30 feet, then strike out vigorously for a swim just as short or 
as long as you please, for the water is of such a pleasant 
temperature in these seas, that you can remain in, especially 
at early dawn or evening, just as long as you like, without 
sustaining any bodily harm. Then a good substantial coffee, 
for the sea air gives a healthy individual a prodigious appe- 
tite, the first and best pipe of the day, that of the early dawn, 
and if you are a fisherman, see your boat is all right and 
ship-shape Bristol fashion, looking carefully into all the 
details of tackle, bait, harpoons, knives, and “bootoo”’ (a 
small heavy club for killing sharks and other sea terrors). 
See to all this yourself, as your boatman, plucky and good, 
in all that pertains to his native seas, is naturally careless and 
imsouciant, has no memory or thinking power whatever, and 
is sure if left to himself to forget some important part of the 
equipment, and then away to whatever fishing ground the 
tide then suits. Remember the sea is one vast lucky bag, 
