How We Came to Black Bartlemy's Island

"Martin, Martin--look!"

I started up, and rubbing sleep from my eyes, turned to gaze whither she pointed; and there, faint and far, above the rolling blue of the seas rose a blue shape. "'Tis the island, Martin! Our voyaging is nigh ended."

"Aye, 'tis the island!" says I.

"'Tis like an island of dream, Martin."

"Nay, 'tis real enough!" quoth I, "And solitary!"

"There is a perspective glass in the locker, yonder, Martin."

"Master Adam was vastly thoughtful!" quoth I, bitterly. And reaching the glass I gave it to her.

"Will you not look at the island?" she questioned wonderingly.

"Nay, I shall see more than enough of it ere long! Do you give me the tiller and view it as you will."

"I see rocks!" says she, after some while.

"Ha, a barren place, as I thought."

"Nay, there are trees--many trees! O 'tis wonderful!" And so she sat viewing it all untiring, every moment discovering some new marvel; but I fell to my old, black humour, since to me this island was no better than a prison.

By mid-day we were come so close that I might see the place very well; a smallish island with sheer cliffs very jagged and grim where the seas broke in foam and crowned with many and divers trees, beyond which rose greeny slopes with more trees that mounted up and up to a lofty summit of rocks and brush. Being within some two miles of these forbidding cliffs I steered to fetch a compass about the island, and so presently opened a bay of white sand with tree-clad cliffs beyond, and before a sheet of placid water or lagoon shut off from the sea by a semicircular barrier-reef, such as Adam had described in his story.