THE BEACH OF FALESA.
CHAPTER I. A SOUTH SEA BRIDAL.
I SAW that island first when it was neither night nor morning. The
moon was to the west, setting, but still broad and bright. To the east,
and right amidships of the dawn, which was all pink, the daystar
sparkled like a diamond. The land breeze blew in our faces, and smelt
strong of wild lime and vanilla: other things besides, but these were the
most plain; and the chill of it set me sneezing. I should say I had been
for years on a low island near the line, living for the most part solitary
among natives. Here was a fresh experience: even the tongue would be
quite strange to me; and the look of these woods and mountains, and the
rare smell of them, renewed my blood.
The captain blew out the binnacle lamp.
"There!" said he, "there goes a bit of smoke, Mr. Wiltshire, behind
the break of the reef. That\'s Falesa, where your station is, the last
village to the east; nobody lives to windward - I don\'t know why. Take
my glass, and you can make the houses out."
I took the glass; and the shores leaped nearer, and I saw the tangle of
the woods and the breach of the surf, and the brown roofs and the black
insides of houses peeped among the trees.
"Do you catch a bit of white there to the east\'ard?" the captain
continued. "That\'s your house. Coral built, stands high, verandah you
could walk on three abreast; best station in the South Pacific. When old
Adams saw it, he took and shook me by the hand. \'I\'ve dropped into a
soft thing here,\' says he. - \'So you have,\' says I, \'and time too!\' Poor
Johnny! I never saw him again but the once, and then he had changed
his tune - couldn\'t get on with the natives, or the whites, or something;