IN THE LAND OF THE BORA. 109 



The strip of coast underlying the Biokovo is 

 not unpicturesque, and we had a beautiful morn- 

 ing on which to enjoy it. We noticed with some 

 regret the monastery of Zostrog, close to which 

 fascinating and peaceful spot we had proposed to 

 pitch a camp had not the weather disarranged our 

 plans ; and then we bore away from the mainland 

 again. All we saw of Lesina was San Giorgio at 

 the extreme east of the island, and thence our 

 course was a direct one for the mountainous 

 peninsula of Sabioncello. This north-eastern coast 

 of it is bare and uninteresting, but the southern 

 slopes of the hills are said to form an earthly 

 paradise, and are dotted with the villas of Dalma- 

 tian skippers, retired from work, to walk solemnly 

 about, I suppose, much as they do in England, 

 with a glass under their arms, and express a 

 strongly qualified opinion that seamanship is a lost 

 art, etc. 



Trappano, our port of call on this occasion, is 

 an almost naturally rock-locked harbour, and the 

 peaked rocks have been ingeniously joined by 

 masonry until only an opening little wider than 

 the Trieste is left. Here again we had no little 

 difficulty in getting made fast to the tiny pier 

 some twenty-five feet below our hurricane deck. 

 But this time there was a reason for it, and for a 

 good hour and a half we continued to discharge 

 sacks of flour until we all got heartily sick of the 



