I I . E n R o u t e
The launch, with loud heart-beating, drives a pathway
through the narrow strait. Turning our backs-
upon Mergui, now hidden behind Patit, we reach a
space of green, sun-touched water, with low mangrove-
swamps upon our larboard bows. Upon our right
the mountains of King’s Island, cloven to a third o f
their height by dark lines of swamp forest, reach with
their apices up to the heart of the swooning clouds.
We are steering south by west for the island country,
and thè most notable object in view is the pyramid o f
Merghi Island, sixteen hundred feet above the sea.
Nearer, several islands lie in our way, outlined in solid
forms against the misty blue of their lofty companion.
Away under the opal sky there is a narrow mirror-like
calm, which makes thè islands in its compass seem
unreal ; mere phantoms of the vision suspended between
earth and heaven. In striking contrast, the sailing-
boats of the coast-fishers are cut in black patterns
against the clouds.
But no two consecutive moments present the same
spectacle. The clouds melt from one ecstasy of beauty
into another ; the sea, played upon by the wind, is
one instant billowy and placid as oil, another crimped
with laughter, a third a meadow O ’ of diamonds in the
sudden sun ; and the brave launch, leaping forward,
overcomes space, so that the dreamiest island fast becomes
a reality, and the most palpable one of woods
and precipices a dream. The sailing-junks, with their