is," he said. "You are mos' wise, Dan. But,
Dan! Dan!"

"Yes. What?"

"If it had been true, Dan dat beautiful town an' all my dream! If it
had been true!"

"Shove along wi' that broom," advised Dan. "The mate's lookin'."

They came abreast of their port about midday, and Dan, at the wheel,
heard the captain swear as they stood in through a maze of broken
water, where coral reefs sprouted like weeds in a neglected garden,
towards the hills that stood low above the horizon. He had been
furnished, it seemed, with a chart concerning whose trustworthiness
he entertained the bitterest doubts. There was some discussion with
the mate about anchoring and sending in a boat to bring off a pilot,
but presently they picked up a line of poles sticking up above the
water like a ruined fence, and these seemed to comfort the captain.
Bits of trees swam alongside; a flight of small birds, with flashes
of green and red in their plumage, swung about them; the water, as
they went, changed color. Little by little the hills lifted from the
level of the water and took on color and variety, till from the deck
one could make out the swell of their contours and distinguish the
hues of the wild vegetation that clothed them. The yellow of a beach
and a snowy gleam of surf showed at their feet, and then, dead ahead
and still far away, they opened, and in the gap there was visible the
still shining blue of water that ran inland and lay quiet under their
shelter.

"Stand by your to'gallant halyards!" came the order. "Lower away
there!"

It was evening already when the old Anna Maria, floating slowly under
a couple of jibs and a foretopsail, rounded the point and opened the
town. The bay, with its fringe of palms, lay clear before her; beyond
its farthest edge, the sun had just set, leaving his glories to burn
out behind him, and astern of them in the east the swift tropic night
was racing up the sky. The little town a church-tower and a cluster
of painted, flat-roofed houses, lay behind the point at the water's
edge. There was a music of bells in the still air; all the scene
breathed that joyous languor, that easy beauty which only the sun can
ripen, which the windy north never knows. With the night at her
heels, the old Anna Maria moved almost imperceptibly towards the
town.

"Stand by to anchor!" came the order from aft, and the mate, calling
three men with him, went up the ladder to the fo'c'sle head.

Dan was one of the three. He was a