acht drew closer a strange silence seemed to fall upon the
vessel. The Professor's gurgles of joy died away slowly, and none of the
others seemed inclined to break the stillness. The crew and the half
dozen islanders that Leith had brought to carry provisions and specimens
were also silent. They were grouped for'ard, but not a murmur came from
them as _The Waif_ crept slowly ahead, feeling her way cautiously into
the little bay on the north side of the island which Leith had suggested
to Newmarch as a good anchorage.

The peculiar stories that had gone abroad concerning the Isle of Tears
were responsible for most of the wide-eyed looks of wonder which the
imaginative Polynesians directed upon the shore; the strange predicament
in which they were placed tied the tongues of the two girls; the
Professor was thinking of the archaeological treasures, while thoughts
that one could only guess at prevented Leith and Holman from speaking.

The island had a strange, wild beauty that seemed to throttle speech.
The underlying coral reefs were of colours that ran from pure white to
gorgeous crimson, and the effect upon the water above them was wonderful
to behold. _The Waif_ seemed to make her way over a floor of beautiful
parquetry which Mother Nature had been constructing for centuries.
Chameleon-tinted seaweeds stretched upward, waving backward and forward
like the hair of sea nymphs hidden in the crevices of the multi-coloured
rocks.

The vegetation on the shore was weird and wondrous. The trees
immediately near the edge of the bay were covered with riotous lianas
that looped themselves like pythons from limb to limb, and from whose
green masses blazing red flowers appeared at intervals like watchful
eyes. Scarlet hibiscus and perfumed frangipanni were everywhere, while
climbing jasmine tried to cover up the black basalt rocks in the
foreground as if to hide everything that was ugly from the eyes of the
visitor. The sweet, intoxicating odours came out to us in greeting, yet
the place seemed to inspire us with a feeling of awe and mystery that
became more oppressive as the yacht moved lazily across the bay.

I glanced at Edith Herndon at the moment the anchor plunged down into
the bed of coral, and the look of perplexed wonder upon her face
startled me.

"It looks a nice place, yet it feels an awful spot," she murmured. "All
those snaky creepers with their coloured flowers seem to be hiding
something."

I understood her fe