SHIPWRECKED SAILOR ON SMOKING ROCK 267
My sons could not behold these beautiful little boats, dancing over the surface of the waves, without wishing to capture some; they threw out a net, and we caught half a dozen fine ones.
We soon attained the promontory behind which, Fritz said, was the Bay of Pearls. This promontory was singular and imposing. Arch rose above arch, column above column; in a word, it resembled the front of one of those old Gothic cathedrals, covered with a thousand carvings. The only difference was that, instead of a pavement of marble, we had the blue sea, and the columns were washed by the waves. We rowed into the great cavern and sent the startled birds flying in all directions.
When our eyes became habituated to the darkness, we saw that every niche and corner was filled with their nests. These nests resembled white cups, were as transparent as horn, and filled, like the nests of other birds, with feathers, and dry sticks of some sort of perfumed wood.
I resolved to gather a considerable number of them, only taking care to leave those which contained eggs or young ones. Fritz and Jack climbed like cats along the rocks and detached the nests, which they gave to Ernest and me, who placed