474 MYSTIC ISLES 



and bits of jetsam I selected fuel, which I placed be- 

 tween a group of coral rocks on which were several iron 

 bars. I ht the fire, and put into a pot three tablespoon- 

 fuls of finely ground coffee and two cups of fresh water. 

 The pot was a percolator, and beside it I placed a frying- 

 pan, and in it shced bananas and a lump of tinned but- 

 ter from New Zealand. Leaving these inanimate things 

 to react under the dissolving effect of the blaze, I ran 

 to the beach, where I watched the sunrise. There re- 

 curred to me the mornings and evenings in the Orient 

 when I had seen the Parsees, the fire-worshippers of 

 India, offer their devotions, standing or kneeling on 

 their rugs on the seashore. I, too, raised my hands in 

 silent admiration of the mother of all life. Then I ob- 

 served about me the hurry and scurry of the dwellers 

 on the sands and in the water. Small hermit-crabs in 

 shells many sizes too big for them toddled about, land- 

 crabs rushed frantically and awkwardly for their holes, 

 and Portuguese men-of-war sailed by the coast, luffing 

 to avoid casting up on the beach. A brief period of 

 observation, and I dashed back to the fare umu, and 

 trimmed the fire. When cooked, I brought my food 

 to my house, where I had a low table like a Japanese 

 zen, and with rolls from the Chinese store I made my 

 first meal, adding oranges, papayas and pineapple. 



From the doorway, for all I encompassed in my view, 

 I might have been the sole human on this island. I 

 could look to the reef and far across the lagoon to 

 Hitiaa or down the beach, but from that spot no other 

 house was in sight. If I went around the house, I was 

 almost on the Broadway of Tautira, the home of Ori-a- 

 Ori before me, and a coral church close to it, with other 



