On the southeast side of the island is the place known as “the Rope,” so called because in former years the steep descent could only be accomplished by means of a rope. A zigzag path, only wide enough to afford a foothold, now leads down from the high precipice to the water’s edge. The steep cliffs, rising almost perpendicularly from the shore, are grandly beautiful. The variegated colors of the soil, the rocks, and the foliage of trees, all blended together, or contrasted in shades of black and gray, yellow and brown, red and green, make the scenery altogether pleasing; and not less beautiful is the view of the waters of the little bay, when, calm and smooth, it spreads out like a lake, without a ripple on its surface, or when, with wild and roaring sound, wave after wave breaks and rolls in toward the shore, leaving the surface of the water as if covered with billows of loveliest lace, pure and white. [Illustration: PATH THROUGH COCOANUT GROVE.] In the most sheltered corner of the bay, at the Rope, is a small stretch of sand, on one end of which, at the foot of the rock that towers above it, there were found by the mutineers some stone axes and other implements, which were made and used by the natives that originally inhabited the island. Here, too, are cut in the rocks some of the figures made by the rude artists of those by-gone ages. Most of the characters have been obliterated by more than a century’s exposure to every kind of weather. A few, however, remain quite distinct, as may be seen by the accompanying illustration. [Illustration: FIGURES CUT IN THE ROCKS AT THE ROPE.] The _pandanus_ palm tree, with its clustering branches of drooping leaves, fringes the shores of the bay nearly its whole extent. The innumerable huge stones and rocks that cover the bottom of the bay make it impossible for a boat to land. Its waters teem with myriads of small fish. The bêche de mer drags out its existence in the many sand-bottomed pools, while the cray fish and whelk, both of which are eaten, make their home beneath and among the seaweed-covered rocks that abound in the shallow bay. Looking north from the ridge of the Rope, the eye rests upon a small but lovely valley, named St. Paul’s Valley, it being in the vicinity of St. Paul’s Rock. Grand old trees, with their varied and changing tints of foliage, render the scenery always beautiful, while, as an accompaniment to their gentle, rustling music, comes the booming sound of the surf on the rocks far below. In the valley between Ship-landing Point on the northeast and the Goat House, facing north, lies, nestling among trees, the little village settled by the mutineers a hundred years ago. Groves of cocoanut and orange trees surround it, while the beautiful banyan tree, with its curious growth of long, rope-like roots hanging in thick profusion, and its towering branches covered for ten months of the year with a springlike robe of green, lends a delightful charm to the scenery.