I had left home, I seemed to be separated from old England by at least a decade.
These shark-hunts often led us many miles from the reef, and I never failed to come to the surface when we were at the greatest distance from the lagoon, and carefully scan the horizon in hopes of seeing a vessel. Again and again and again I repeated my search, on every side of the archipelago. As often was I disappointed but not discouraged. The dead calm that almost invariably prevailed in this part of the world was much against the chance of a visit from any sailing vessel, but as steamers were so numerous on the ocean, it was not impossible that one might pass this way, though there was not enough of breeze stirring to raise the pendant of a man-of-war. So I expected rather to see a long line of smoke than a sail in the horizon, but neither smoke nor sail appeared.
The fact is Colymbia lies so much out of the track of the lines of steam-packets that ply between the principal seaports of the world, and is so destitute of anything like regular or irregular breezes, that it is a very rare event for a steamer or a sailing vessel to pass sufficiently close to be visible to the inhabitants, who, when they do emerge from the depths of their lagoon, so seldom raise their heads much above the sea-level.
Nor was it likely that a distant sail would be noticed from land, for those that were employed there were forced, on account of the terrible heat and the insects, to carry on their work by artificial light in the recesses of the caverns which abound in this volcanic country, or in artificial constructions from which the sun's rays were carefully excluded.
