The harbour of Tamatave is protected by a coral reef, which has openings to the sea both north and south, the latter being the principal entrance; it is somewhat difficult of access, and the ribs and framework of wrecked vessels are (or perhaps rather _were_) very frequently seen on the reef. The captain had told me that sometimes many hours and even days were spent in attempting to enter, and that it would probably be noon before we should anchor. I therefore went below to prepare for landing, but in less than an hour was startled to hear by the thunder of the waves on the reef and the shouts of the seamen reducing sail that we were already entering the harbour. The wind had proved unexpectedly favourable, and in a few more minutes the cable was rattling through the hawsehole, the anchor was dropped, and we swung round at our moorings. There were several vessels in the harbour. Close to us was H.M.’s steamer _Gorgon_, and, farther away, two or three French men-of-war, among them the _Hermione_ frigate, bearing the flag of Commodore Dupré, their naval commandant in the Indian Ocean, as well as plenipotentiary for the French Government in the disputes then pending concerning the Lambert Treaty. I was relieved to find that everything seemed peaceful and quiet at Tamatave, and that the long white flag bearing the name of Queen Ràsohèrina, in scarlet letters, still floated from the fort at the southern end of the town. I had been told at Port Louis that things were very unsettled in Madagascar, and that I should probably find Tamatave being bombarded by the French; but it is unnecessary to refer further to what is now ancient history, or to touch upon political matters, which lie quite outside the main purpose of this book. Tamatave, as a village, has not a very inviting appearance from the sea, and man’s handiwork had certainly not added much to the beauty of the landscape. Had it not been for the luxuriant vegetation of the pandanus, palms, and other tropical productions, nothing could have been less interesting than the native town, which possessed at that time few European residences and no buildings erected for religious worship.[3] Canoes, formed out of the trunk of a single tree, soon came off to our ship, but I was glad to dispense with the services of these unsafe-looking craft, and to accept a seat in the captain’s boat. Half-an-hour after anchoring we were rowing towards the beach, and in a few minutes I leaped upon the sand, with a thankful heart that I had been permitted to tread the shores of Madagascar.