The Land of the Hibiscus Blossom

A dark night, as nights are in the tropics before the moon rises, in
spite of those dense clusters of stars which stain, like milk-
splashes, the intense blue-black of that vault above, or the more
isolated worlds which hang, as if they were electric globes let down
by invisible wires, from that vast ceiling, whose extremity the eye
cannot reach!

Very bright those irregularly hung lamps; very close-set, and
sparkling, those clusters of gems beyond, very filmy the milk-stains
upon that blue--black roof; but the space is too mighty to be
illuminated even by those myriad lights, their effulgence is sucked up
by the miles of atmosphere, and so on the shores, and in the jungle,
darkness grapples with form and wins the battle; the eye looking up
becomes dazed with that studded diamond vault and blinded to all
beneath.

It is an island within that great barrier reef, which extends from
above Keppel Bay to Cape York, and along the Torres Straits to the
Papuan Gulf, making eternal summer and calm seas--one of those islands
raised by the insect creators of continents, who are for ever working,
regardless of time; one of the many formed, or in process of
formation, which greet the anxious glance of the mariner every few
miles of his dangerous navigation through those uncertain waters upon
which the sun warmly smiles, and shows in the varied shades of
delicious green, the spots to be avoided; and, in the threads of
amethyst, the narrow passages to trust for safety. There are no charts
to guide the mariner as yet, only the sharp eyes and the steady head;
for woe to the unlucky master who pins his faith to a chart, when his
vessel sails within these reefs.

This island has been long established as a place of call for vessels
going pearl-fishing, bêche-de-mer, or copra collecting, and is
inhabited by a tribe of blacks who give hospitality and work to the
traders who have settled amongst them, and who feed them and teach
them the refinements of civilization, in return for hospitality and
assistance in their business.

The island is well protected from rough seas by the great coral wall
which lies about two miles to westward, and is guarded from the near
approach of uninvited visitors by hummocks and sharp-edged fringes
which are covered at low-tide and surround the smooth sand-shore,
layer within layer, with fathomless depths of ocean between, until the
innermost fringe is passed. Then a long spread of shallow water has to
be waded over, before dry land is reached, so that the trader, as he
sits in his bungalow with his friendly servant-hosts behind him, need
only wait and finish his pipe, if the visitor chances to be one of
those interfering personages, until the unwary vessel safely runs and
sticks against the protecting reef-walls, when he sallies forth to
rescue the wrecked crew and claim the wreckage according to the very
just and proper law of flotsam.

On this dark night there were several small stranger vessels lying
about alongside Carolina Joe's own craft. (Carolina Joe was the title
this protector of these friendly natives bore amongst his friends and
admirers.) As these vessels were all safely at anchor-age, we must
conclude that they had been here before, and did not come for hostile
purpose.

Neat little craft, rocking under the starlight, and breaking the
reflection of the sparkles below with their hulls and hull-shadows,
but with nothing definite as regards outline or proportion.

On shore--along the dark strips of sand discernible only because of
the more intense shadow of the palm and croton groves behind and the
jet-like reflecting blackness of the water lapping softly against dead
shells and broken fragments of coral--a heavy breath breaking upon the
silence along with a faint cocoa-nut odour, apprises one of a native
gliding past. The sand is smooth, and hard, and pleasant to the bare
feet where it is not covered with those spider-spiked shells; and from
the shallow parts you step upon a smooth warm plain, for the night is
still too young for the heavy dews to cool the ground; thence into the
copse, guided by the faint red glow from the drying-house. This gleam
comes through the crevices of the corrugated iron sides of the shed,
or further on from the hut, where the king and his family wait awake
for the orders of their friend and master, the trader, and where they
silently squat and smoke. The red fire from their pipes, and the
sombre glow from their neglected log alone break upon the blackness of
the night.