As we steamed into the anchorage at Calicut, on board the little yacht 'Pleiad,' no appearance of any town was visible, and no building except a tall white lighthouse. Thick groves of cocoanut-trees line the shore, and are divided from the sea by a belt of sand; while undulating green hills rise up behind, and the background of mountains was hidden by banks of clouds. The whole scene bore a close resemblance to one of the Sandwich or Society Islands, down to the canoes which came off to us the moment the anchor was let go. They are hewn out of the trunk of the jack-tree, with an upper bulwark fastened with coir twine; and the canoe-men were naked athletic-looking fellows, with enormous hats made of a frond of the tallipot palm (_Corypha umbraculifera_). When we shoved off from the 'Pleiad' a handsome fish-hawk, with white head and breast, was perched on the fore-topsail yard-arm, and sea-snakes were playing in the water alongside. In-shore there were a few native craft, called _pattamars_, at anchor. Pattamars are the vessels which have carried on the coasting trade on the western side of India from time immemorial. As in the days of Sinbad the sailor, their planks are not nailed, but sewn together with coir-twine, and they have high sterns and bows sheering rapidly aft. The deepest part is at the stem, whence the bottom curves inwards to the stern. A pattamar has two masts raking forward, with long picturesque lateen yards slung with one-third part before the mast, and two-thirds abaft. They never attempt to tack, but always ware, and if taken aback there is no alternative but either to wait until she comes round, or to capsize.