owing to its natural
advantages, would be difficult to attack. The present Nawab is of
ancient descent, and one of his ancestors was an Admiral in the
service of the Grand Mogul. At the time of the disruption of the
Kingdom of Delhi the Nawab's State became independent, and has
remained so ever since. He has about 70,000 subjects, in whose welfare
he appears to take great interest. He has a shrewd face, is very
English in appearance, and seems quite capable of looking after his
own interests.[1]

[Footnote 1: The Nawab of Jinjeera is of Abyssinian descent, and is
popularly called the Seedee or Hubshee, generic terms applied by
natives of India to Africans. One of the Nawab's ancestors laid siege
to Bombay Castle in 1688-9, and the English, being unable to dislodge
him, were compelled to seek the intervention of the Emperor Aurungzebe
to secure the withdrawal of his forces.]

[Illustration: Jinjeera Fort]

It was delightfully refreshing to be able to rest in a spacious
bungalow after our tour of the fort was over; and still more delicious
was a curious sort of punkah, peculiar to the district, which fanned
us pleasantly. The Nawab accompanied us on our return to the yacht,
and afterwards sent us a most acceptable _Nazir_, or present, of two
huge bunches of bananas, as well as other fruits and vegetables,
besides milk and ghee.

The Nawab's second wife, whose mother we had met at Bombay, is a
pretty little girl of about thirteen. She came on board to see us, but
many precautions to preserve the _purdah_ had to be taken. It was
necessary to observe this custom in deference to the prejudices of her
people rather than to those of her husband. She had never been on
board a yacht before, and was naturally much interested in all she
saw.

Soon after twelve we resumed our voyage to the southward before a
deliciously cool breeze, which lasted for a considerable time. Further
on, the coast seems to consist of a series of plateaux, varying in
height from 200 to 600 feet, occasionally interrupted by a peak or a
narrow strip of white beach, with here and there a small straggling
town. At sunset we were off Ratnagiri, an ancient Mahratta fort
connected with the mainland only by a narrow sandy neck. Its southern
extremity is nearly 300 feet above the sea level, thus forming a
headland, surmounted by a line of fortifications and bastions of great
strength. The complete isolation of its position has doubtless caused
it to be chos