But what of unusual interest did the _Codolo_ have in store to occasion such wholesale manifestation of inquisitiveness among the natives of the town? Even our driver confessed he had never seen such a gathering on the _molo_. The arrival of an official of high rank, probably. But no, there seemed to be an absolute dearth of uniformed soldiery, and no state official could possibly arrive without the attending pomp and circumstance. We drove through the old sea-gate at a gallop and descended pell-mell upon the _molo_, our driver walloping his horses through the crowd with reckless abandon and utter disregard for human life or limb, for _he_ was curious, too. As we came to a jerky halt at the foot of the gangway we saw that on the steamer’s deck stood a great, mud-coloured object, which somewhat resembled in size and contour the broadside of an elephant. This mastodon, whatever it might be, was swathed in tarpaulins. Tackle and planks were being rigged rapidly, and, at last, the puzzling what-was-it was skidded to the _molo_ from the deck of the steamer. The gaping crowd stood breathless with anticipation while the tarpaulins were raised, and behold! a motor-omnibus for use on the road between the steamer piers at Gravosa and the fashionable hotel in Ragusa. Wonder of Wonders! The first automobile to denature with the fumes of gasoline the virgin atmosphere of lower Dalmatia. This marvellous machine was the most cumbersome parcel of freight consigned to Gravosa and soon the reversed twin screws of the steamer were churning the placid waters of the harbour into filmy patches of white froth. We backed away from the _molo_ and its burden of inquisitive onlookers, turned about and headed speedily for the narrow harbour exit, through which we caught glimpses of the blue of the Adriatic beyond. The four hour sea trip from Gravosa to Cattaro is one replete with scenic surprises, and the first of these is a magnificent panorama of Ragusa and her stately fortresses as we round the rocky promontory just to the north of the town. Ragusa is inviting enough from land, but when viewed from the sea it is fascinating beyond description. For a distance after passing Ragusa the coast line is unprotected from the winds and storms of the Adriatic but, except in early spring or late fall, little fear of the sudden rising of a “Bora” or a “Scirocco,” the winds most dreaded along the Dalmatian coast, need be felt. On account of the depth of water the course taken by the steamers is always within easy sight of the shore, and the mountains seem to rise directly from the red-tiled roofs of the village houses.