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

THE SANTA CRUZ ISLANDS 287

as if the boat had been a meteor. The oars, too,
dripped light, as though they were bringing up fine
silver dust from below. The naked boy in front of
me shone like a marble statue on a dark background
as his beautiful body worked in rhythmic movements,
the light playing to and fro on his back. And ever
the sparks danced along the boat in hypnotizing
confusion, and mighty harmonies seemed to echo
through the night air. The feeling of time was lost,
until the opposite shore rose to a black wall, then,
through the silence, we heard the cold rush of the
surf beating moodily on the reef. We slackened
speed, the fairy light died and the dream ended.
We kept along the shore, looking for the entrance,
which the boys found by feeling for a well-known
rock with their oars. A wave lifted us, the boys bent
to their oars with all their might, we shot across the
reef and ran into the soft sand of the beach.

But as the rain fell now in torrents, there was no

dance that night.

Mr. M. and I attempted a few excursions, but
bad weather interfered with our plans, and a rainy
period of three weeks followed. One squall chased
the other, rattling on the roof, forming swamps every-
where, and penetrating everything with moisture. I
was glad when the Soutéern C7055 came back for
me, especially as this was to be the beginning of my

homeward journey.
This time we touched at a small island called

Tucopia, where a primitive Polynesian population
still exists, probably the only island where this is the