here and there on the coast to seek for water and shell-fish, harried
and chased by cannibal savages, suffering all the agonies that could be
suffered on such a wild venture, until they reached Timor, only by a
strange and unhappy fate to fall into the hands of the brutal and
infamous Edwards of the _Pandora_ frigate, who with his wrecked ship's
company, and the surviving and manacled mutineers of the _Bounty_, who
had surrendered to him, soon afterwards appeared at the Dutch port.
Bryant, the daring leader, was so fortunate as to die of fever, and so
escaped the fate in store for his comrades. 'Tis a strange story indeed.

* * * * *

At the end of the point of brown, rugged rocks which form a natural
breakwater to this tiny boat harbour, the water is deep, showing a pale
transparent green at their base, and deep inpenetrable blue ten fathoms
beyond. To-day, because it is mid-winter, and the wind blows from the
west, the sea is clearer than ever, and far down below will be discerned
lazily swimming to and fro great reddish-brown or bright blue groper,
watching the dripping sides of the rock in hope that some of the active,
gaily-hued crabs which scurry downwards as you approach may fall in--for
the blue groper is a _gourmet_, disdaining to eat of his own tribe, and
caring only for crabs or the larger and more luscious crayfish. Stand
here when the tide is high and the surf is sweeping in creamy sheets
over the lower ledges of rocks; and as the water pours off torrent-like
from the surface and leaves them bare, you may oft behold a huge
fish--aye, or two or three--lying kicking on its side with a young
crayfish in its thick, fleshy jaws, calmly waiting for the next sea to
set him afloat again. Brave fellows are these gropers--forty, fifty, up
to seventy pounds sometimes, and dangerous fish to hook in such a place
as this, where a false step may send a man headlong into the surf below