Palo is a weather-maker. When we prepared to go home, he promised to smooth the sea, which was running too high for comfort, and to prevent a head-wind. We were duly grateful, and, indeed, all his promises were fulfilled: we had a perfectly smooth sea, and such a dead calm that between the blue sky and the white sea we nearly fainted, and had to row wearily along instead of sailing. Just as we were leaving, Palo came to the bank, making signs for us to come back, a pretty custom, although it is not always meant sincerely. Late at night we arrived at home once more. CHAPTER X CLIMBING SANTO PEAK Some days later I left Talamacco for Wora, near Cape Cumberland, a small station of Mr. D.'s, Mr. F.'s neighbour. What struck me most there were the wide taro fields, artificially irrigated. The system of irrigation must date from some earlier time, for it is difficult to believe that the population of the present day, devoid as they are of enterprise, should have laid it out, although they are glad enough to use it. The method employed is this: Across one of the many streams a dam of great boulders is laid, so that about the same amount of water is constantly kept running into a channel. These channels are often very long, they skirt steep slopes and are generally cut into the earth, sometimes into the rock; sometimes a little aqueduct is built of planks, mud and earth, supported by bamboo and other poles that stand in the valley. In the fields the channel usually divides into several streams, and runs through all the flat beds, laid out in steps, in which the taro has only to be lightly stuck to bring forth fruit in about ten months. Taro only grows in very swampy ground, some varieties only under water, so that it cannot be grown in the coral region, where there is plenty of rain, but no running water. In these districts yam is the principal food, while we find taro in the mountains of primary rock. Both are similar in taste to the potato. My next journey led me across the peninsula to the west coast of Santo. As usual, it was a very rainy day when we started, but once across the divide the air became much drier. The clouds, driven by the south-east trade-wind, strike the islands on the east side, and this is the reason why the east coast is so much damper than the west, and why the vegetation is so immoderately thick on the one side, and much less luxuriant on the other. On the west side the bush is thinner and there are wide stretches of reed-grass, but there is plenty of water, bright creeks fed by the rainfall on the mountains. Here, on the coast, it was much warmer than where we had come from, but the air was most agreeable, dry and invigorating, quite different from the damp, heavy air on the other side.