292 THE STORY OF A BIRD LOVER 



a delight. The cold November weather gave 

 way as we sailed southward. The gray sky, the 

 grayer sea with its cross waves and huge rollers, 

 were soon left behind ; we entered the region of 

 enchantment, — deep blue sky above, deep blue 

 ocean below; flying fishes, tropic birds, petrels, 

 and boobies, adding life to the scene. 



On November 12 we sighted San Salvador, 

 the landfall of Columbus. On the 14th the 

 mountains of Hayti were plainly visible. As 

 darkness came on we saw the Southern Cross for 

 the first time, and on the morning of the 15th 

 entered the harbor of Kingston. The previous 

 night had been one of sleeplessness and discomfort, 

 spent in vainly attempting to adjust the wind-sail 

 in our port to the shifting courses of the ship, as 

 we cruised about just outside the harbor, it being 

 too late to enter, because of the dangerous reefs. 



Waking from a brief nap at the gray of dawn, 

 the outlines of the mountains loomed up boldly 

 through the dim light. Blue Mountain Peak lift- 

 ing its superb height seven thousand feet and 

 more above us. The first rays of the sun lighted 

 peaks and canons, throwing them into boldest 

 relief. The mountains in contour and coloring 

 called to mind at once those of the familiar Santa 

 Catalina's. The beautiful bay stretched away to 

 the city six miles distant, the long low line of Port 

 Royal fringed with cocoanut palms forming its 



