It is not given to me to adequately describe the first smell of the East. It is years since I last experienced it, and the thought arises whether steam and modernity can have made serious inroads into the characteristics of the Garden of the World? It is no use speculating on that point, however. Here we were anchored off Point de Galle, the smell of the land wind almost giving a sense of intoxication, spice-laden as it came, the native catamarans darting about at an astonishing speed, and what was of still greater interest to us, each boat with a bunch of big yellow luscious bananas that we lost no time in making acquaintance with. There again is a new experience, the first taste of an East Indian banana is not a thing to be easily forgotten. Let no one imagine that the forced and imported things we get in London to-day can be compared to the fruit in its native state; as well compare chalk with cheese! We lay at anchor here some days, and I remember well seeing the largest shark in my experience. He was blue with black spots and a square head, and probably between eighteen and twenty feet long; in the clear still blue water he looked an enormous brute. Eventually the skipper came off and we got under way for Colombo, where we were to load coffee for either New York or the Continent, calling off Bahia for orders. This was indeed good news, and the work of the ship went with a snap and a swing that made child’s play of it until the novelty of being homeward bound wore off a bit. It was the fashion when a ship was leaving to send a boat’s crew on board from all the other vessels in harbour to help to work her out of the anchorage. The skipper usually took charge of that job, and it was a kindly and useful assistance which tended towards good fellowship all round. At times a marvellous smartness would be developed, seeing that no proper stations had been prearranged, but to help to get a ship under way for home was always a pleasant experience.