[Note: this transcription was produced by an automatic OCR engine]

22 WITH NATIVES IN THE WESTERN PACIFIC

iron-wood trees, and now the water was bordered by
high coral plateaux, from which a luxuriant forest
fell down in heavy cascades, in a thickness almost
alarming, like the eruption of a volcano, when one
cloud pushes the other before it and new ones are
ever behind. It seemed as if each tree were trying to
strangle the others in a fight for life, while the
weakest, deprived of their ground, clung frantically to
the shore and would soon be pushed far out over the
smooth, shining sea. There the last dense crowns
formed the beautiful fringe of the green carpet
stretched soft and thick over the earth.

Only here and there the shore was free, showing
the coral strand as a line of White that separated the
blue of the sea from the green of the forest and
intensified every colour in the landscape. It was a
vision of the most magnificent luxuriance, so different
from the view which the barren shores of eastern
New Caledonia offer.

The bay became narrower and we approached the
port proper. Small islands appeared, between which
we had glimpses of cool bays across glassy, deep—
green water, and before us lay a broken line of light-
coloured houses along the beach, while on the plateau
behind we could see the big court-house and some villas.

A little distance off-shore we dropped anchor, and
were soon surrounded by boats, from which the inhabit-
ants came on board. A kind planter brought me and
my belongings ashore, and I took up my quarters in the
only hotel in Port Vila, the so-called “blood-house,”
thus named because of its history.