"
My nephew pointed out to me that a little cove near the school must be
the identical place we had both read of hundreds of times, and he
justly remarked what an ideal spot it would be in which to be
shipwrecked. All the traditional accessories were there. The coral
reef with the breakers thundering on it; the placid lagoon inshore; a
little cove whose dazzling white coral beach was fringed with
cocoa-nut palms down to the very water's edge; a crystal-clear spring
trickling down the cliff and tumbling into a rocky basin; the hill
behind clothed with a dense jungle of bread-fruit trees and wild
plantains, whose sea of greenery was starred with the golden balls of
innumerable orange trees; the whole place must really have been lifted
bodily out of some boy's book, and put here to prove that writers of
fiction occasionally tell the truth, for it seemed perfectly familiar
to both of us. Certainly, the oranges were of the bitter Seville
variety and were uneatable, and wild plantains are but an indifferent
article of diet; still, they satisfied the eye, and fulfilled their
purpose as indispensable accessories to the castaway's new home. It
would be impossible to conceive of more orthodox surroundings in which
to be shipwrecked, for our vessel would be, of course, piled up on the
reef within convenient distance, and we would presuppose a current
setting into the cove.
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