At daybreak next morning, when I went on deck, it was a dead calm. The
sea-breeze had not yet come in, and there was not a ripple on the
surface of the harbour. Outside, two little white trading schooners
lay becalmed; inside, the harbour-tug was getting up steam. On shore,
a few gaily dressed natives were hurrying home with their early market
produce, and others were stretched lazily on the grass at the water's
edge or on the benches under the trees. Our stores for the day, a
picturesque-looking heap of fish, fruit, vegetables, and flowers, were
on the steps, waiting to be brought off, and guarded in the meantime
by natives in costumes of pink, blue, orange, and a delicate pale
green they specially affect. The light mists rolled gradually away
from the mountain tops, and there was every prospect of a fine day for
a projected excursion.
I went ashore to fetch some of the fresh gathered fruit, and soon we
had a feast of luscious pineapples, juicy mangoes, bananas, and
oranges, with the dew still upon them. The mango is certainly the king
of fruit. Its flavour is a combination of apricot and pineapple, with
the slightest possible suspicion of turpentine thrown in, to give a
piquancy to the whole. I dare say it sounds a strange mixture, but I
can only say that the result is delicious.
Pages:
295
296
297
298
299
300
301
302
303
304
305
306
307
308
309
310
311
312
313
314
315
316
317
318
319