The individual crab is small and has no shell. The spread of the legs would probably be 1½ inches, and the body is of a dark fawn colour, exactly resembling the wet sand of the beach, so that the creature’s hue is without doubt yet another of Nature’s adaptations for protection. It is remarkable also that it imitates only the wet sand, for the dry sand is of a dazzling silky whiteness. [Illustration: A SEA-COAST SCENE IN NEW GUINEA. Some of the houses of Elevada, one of the pottery towns, may be seen by the sea. ] At Issu we stayed for the night, and did our best to sleep, although the sand-flies were a great torment. From Issu we went on to Manu-Manu, a stretch of eighteen miles, and as we went we saw many sharks, who followed us close inshore and kept pace with us for a considerable distance, hoping in vain that we would be unwise enough to bathe. Some natives, who had followed us from Giabada, tried to kill them by throwing sticks. Manu-Manu was our last halt before taking a canoe for Port Moresby. At the former place we found some men to assist us, and after spending the night there, and the best part of the following day in preparation, we embarked. At the mouth of the Manu-Manu River the crocodiles swarmed in the brackish water. This is the point where there occurred the fight between the natives and the crocodiles which I described in one of my earlier chapters. The canoe voyage that we made at this time was one that was only possible in fine weather, for there were many nasty headlands to round. The bays were very deep, and at the middle of the crossing from point to point we would often be ten miles off the land. Often, too, there were treacherous reefs to avoid, but fortunately we had moonlight after 2 A.M.; and so, sometimes sailing and sometimes paddling, we passed the villages of Boira and Borepada and reached Port Moresby at five on the evening of the day after we had left Manu-Manu. We arrived at the Government station just about the same time as the ketch which was bearing the bulk of our baggage. We entered Port Moresby by the western entrance, which is not deep enough for large ships, and can only be made by canoes. At Port Moresby we had intended to put up as formerly at Sam’s house, but we found news of deep affliction awaiting our faithful head-man. His wife Heli was in terrible distress, for she had lost two children while her husband was with us in the interior. Both were boys, one of seventeen known as George, and the other a bright little fellow of ten called Foralis, who had been a great favourite of ours on our former visit, and who used to make himself very useful to us.