The crag of Akhtamar lay before us; behind us the sinuous shore at the foot of the parapet of the Kurdish range. Who would expect that these crystal depths should contain such nauseous elements, like a beautiful but poisonous flower? The water of Lake Van is charged with chemical matter, and is briny and putrid to the taste. You remark the absence of fish, and recall the contrast of the teeming inlets of a Lake Geneva or a Lake Lucerne. Nor are the coasts alive with boats and the expanse with white-winged vessels; you rarely find a shallop within the numerous creeks, although at times you may discover quite a fleet of lateen-sailed craft crossing the broad sheet of sea. They are manned almost exclusively by Armenian sailors; and when I asked the eldest among our crew whether there were any of different nationality, he said that with the exception of about five Kurds, only Armenians pursued this calling. They are simple, hardy fellows, easy to get on with; they conduct a small coasting trade. Those who had taken us from Arjish were at Akhavank when we arrived, and were full of joy, kissing our hands, to see us again. I had asked them to convey us to Akhtamar; but they told me it was impossible, as their ship was loading and, besides, it was not their turn. The island is distant about two miles from the nearest shore and more from Akhavank. At its westerly extremity a bold cliff of hard grey limestone rises to a height of about eighty feet above the waters, in face of the monastic buildings on the mainland. From this crag the ground declines towards the east, and affords a level site for the church and cloister. The bight, where the vessels moor, is situated on the southern coast, not far from the bluff on the west (Fig. 140). Within the space of an hour we were nearing the inlet, and, a little later, stepped ashore. Besides the cliff and the tiny bay there is not much of Akhtamar; yet the little church looks small, even among such surroundings, the work of a jeweller rather than of an architect. In our company were two young clerics, deputed by His Holiness to escort us, the one a priest of the peasant type and with the ignorance of a peasant, the other a deacon who had been educated at Constantinople and who affected to despise his colleagues and superiors. In spite of his pale face, this second Khachatur (given to the cross) was not less stupid or less indolent than the rest. Two more priests were in residence upon the island; but neither belonged to a higher social or intellectual grade. None among them knew more about the place and its history than a few stereotyped words, learnt by heart. Press them further, and they would burst into an inane giggle, the vardapet of Akhavank giving the cue.